The Dark Knight (13 page)

T
onia awoke with a start. Daylight illuminated the hallway beyond the open door. Sandor, fully dressed in his clothes, shook the snow from his hair and shoulders before he knelt to kiss her.

“I
find you with God,” he said with a beaming smile.

A little embarrassed to be discovered still naked in the morning’s weak light, Tonia sat up on the fleece, drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her cloak more tightly around her. “Good morrow,” she replied with a little catch in her throat, remembering how shameless she had been in her lovemaking last night. What did Sandor think of her now?

Chuckling, he stroked the tips of her bare toes that protruded from under the heavy wool blanket. “I have just been to Baxtalo and told him of our new happiness.” Sandor threw several logs on the sleeping fire. “He is very pleased for us.” He rolled his
r
s in the way Tonia had grown to love. “He sends you his love. He would have come himself but he is too large to fit through the outer doorway.”

She blinked
at him. “Your
horse
understands what you say to him?”

Sandor added some brush to the firewood and prodded the pile with the old poker. “Baxtalo is a very intelligent animal. I trained him myself.”

Tonia couldn’t tell if he was jesting with her or if he was serious. Sandor’s relationship with his horse was a very special one. “You make it sound as if you asked for his blessing,” she remarked lightly.

Sandor looked at her. “I did. He is the closest thing to my family that I have at the moment. ’Tis a great regret that I cannot speak to your father as well.” He tickled her foot. “Though methinks your father would not be in a listening mood if he saw us just now.”

Tonia covered her toes. “I fear you speak the truth.”

Sandor sat down beside her. “Is your father a patient man?”

Tonia thought of the great giant that was Guy Cavendish and smiled. She couldn’t wait to see him and her mother again. “He is a thinking man,” she replied. “He rarely acts in haste. That is what my Uncle Brandon does.”

Sandor raised his brows. “You too have an uncle?
Jaj!
The world is filled with uncles, methinks. My Uncle Gheorghe—bah!” He waved away the disapproving image of his relative. “’Tis good for us that he too is not here.”

Tonia dragged her fingers through her tangled hair and wished that she had been arrested with a comb in her hand. Until Sandor’s arrival at Hawksnest, she had not bothered to worry over the state of her tresses. Now everything was different—everything.

“Why is my father’s patience so important?”

Sandor
gaped at her. “You do not know?” He puffed out his chest and thumped it. “I am an honorable man, my Lady Gastonia. I do not ravish virgins in the middle of the night then ride away.” Pausing, he gave her a mischievous grin. “And you were well and truly a virgin.”

Tonia’s cheeks grew very warm. She did not dare to investigate the state of the sheepskin beneath her, at least not while Sandor was watching. She cleared her throat. “I am glad to hear that you are honorable. I would not have…ah…given myself to you if I had thought you were just a thief in the night.”

His dark eyes sparkled. “Oh, I have been just such a thief in my past life, but that was for food. ’Tis unlucky to steal such a fortune as you, yet very lucky if one is given it as a gift.”

Tonia cocked her head. “More of your grandmother’s wisdom?”

He nodded. “I hope someday to introduce you to her. Methinks she, at least, would approve of what I have done.” He shook his head a little then continued. “But you have not answered my question. Will your father listen to me before he tries to impale me on his sword?”

Tonia considered her answer. She did not have the slightest doubt that her father would probably try exactly that. Lord Cavendish would not consider a Gypsy fit company for his daughter, let alone her lover. Aloud, she asked, “What will you say to him?”

“We must discuss the bride-price, of course,” he replied.

Tonia suddenly felt cold all over. What a fool she had been to allow herself to finally fall in love only to discover that Sandor was really a fortune hunter! She straightened her bare shoulders under the blanket. “I should have known you to be a double-tongued snake from the very beginning!”

He reared
back as if she had physically slapped his face. “How now? What caused this sudden tempest? You did not think that I would offer your father a goodly price for you?”

Tonia paused in her anger. “You want to
pay
my father for me? You are mistaken. ’Tis the woman’s father who pays the man.”

Sandor shook his head. “Not among the Rom. We have no such dishonorable custom as a dowry. ’Twould offend a girl to her very marrow if her family had to
sell
her in order to find her a husband. She would die of shame.”

Intrigued by this most novel idea, Tonia relaxed. With a gleam in her eyes, she asked, “How much would you give my father for me?”

He whistled. “
Jai!
My Lord Cavendish could ask a kingdom for you.”

Tonia couldn’t help being flattered. “In truth? Well, he owns a fair portion of land now. Methinks he would not require so much as that.”

Sandor appraised her with a serious look. “Do not laugh at me, my best beloved. You do not know your worth. Your weight in gold or a long rope of pearls would not be too much.” He sighed. “I have none of these treasures to offer. But I am willing to work all my life in payment if we could strike such a bargain. ’Tis why I asked if your father was patient.”

Tonia could hardly believe what Sandor proposed. She tried to imagine how many bags of gold angels would equal her weight. Far more than the dowry that she knew Sir Guy had set aside for her. The thought made her feel vaguely uncomfortable. She rubbed the side of her nose. “’Tis no matter.”

Sandor
caught her hand and kissed it. “But it is, sweet Tonia. I wish to
marry
you. Didn’t you understand that last night?” He gave her an anguished look.

Tonia’s head swam. She gripped his hand tighter, afraid that she would swoon. Marriage—the one word that she had never expected to hear. “You want me to be your wife?”

He dropped to his knees before her. “Aye, ’tis what I had in mind from the first. Methought you did, too.” A muscle in his jaw throbbed. “Is it the custom of bored noble ladies to toy with Gypsy hearts until they break? Or am I not good enough even to wash your foot with my bitter tears?”

Sorrow mixed with simmering anger in his expression was more than Tonia could bear. She took both his hands in hers, letting the blanket slip down to her lap. “I am truly honored to become your wife, Sandor Whatever-your-last-name. And I care not a fig for uncles, or dowries or bride-prices. I only wish there was a priest here and now to join us.”

With a whoop, he swept her into his arms, and the blanket fell from her legs. Tonia did not notice the cold on her skin. Nor did she care that she was naked in this wonderful man’s embrace. Sandor laughed, filling the tiny chamber with his joy.

“
Sukar luludi!
My heart is close to bursting!” He swung her around in a wide arc. “As for joining us, we have already done so! And will do so soon again. But we have no need of a priest to be married. God is already here with us. All we have to do is tell Him our vows.” He saw that she was about to object. “And when the snow stops falling and we are safe from the King’s long arm, I will flush out a priest from his bolt-hole to marry us like the good Catholics we are. What say you?”

Tonia
kissed him hard on his mouth. “I say aye, but can we eat something first? I am giddy with hunger—and with my love for you.”

They kissed again, then while Tonia dressed and washed her face in the icy water that Sandor had brought from the courtyard well, he prepared their simple meal. They feasted on slices of bread slathered with butter and honey and drank loving toasts in two languages with chipped cupfuls of pure water. They seasoned their breakfast with more kisses.

When they had licked the last crumbs of honey-soaked bread from each other’s lips, Sandor asked, “Are you now ready to tell the Lord God that you will be my wife and the mother of my sons?”

Tonia cocked her head. “And what if we have daughters?”

He returned her smile. “All the better, for they will be as pretty as their mother.”

“Do you truly think I am pretty?”

He raised both eyebrows with surprise. “You jest with me! You are the most beautiful flower in the Lord God’s garden. May I die if I lie.”

Tonia ducked her head so that her grin was hidden behind the dark curtain of her hair. “Then I will be your wife, Sandor,” she said.

Sandor watched Tonia as she washed the last trace of honey from her mouth and finger-combed her glorious hair. Her words drummed in his ears. This rare creature had just accepted his offer of marriage. He felt light-headed and flushed with pride. Yet, at the same time, he became fully aware of the harsh reality of his situation. The instant that he and Tonia were joined as man and wife, he would commit the most serious offense against the Rom’s prohibition laws of
marime.
By marrying a
gadji,
he would become so defiled in the eyes of his people, he would be forever exiled from their company.

Banishment
from his clan was the worst punishment that could befall a Gypsy. Abandoned by those who were sworn to protect him, Sandor would be a solitary man caught between two opposing cultures—despised and mistrusted by the smug Christians of Tonia’s people, while shunned and hated by the Rom. In his mind’s eye, he saw his uncle spit at his feet before turning away. He saw his aunt heave fistfuls of mud at him. He heard his cousins snarl insults at him and Tonia. And what would his grandmother do?

The mere idea of his family’s alienation made Sandor’s mouth go dry. Yet when he looked at Tonia, or only thought of her, his heart and soul told him that she was the one for him—his true soul mate. His first wife had been sweet, though he could barely recall the features of her young face. But he had never felt the same sense of completion with her as he did with Tonia.

The decision that old Towla had foretold to her grandson had now arrived. The Fool leaped from the cliff’s edge, the Lovers entwined themselves against the world and the great risk of the Death card loomed before Sandor, appearing far more dangerous than a dozen knives in the hands of an enemy.

Tonia said something to him that broke through his thoughts.

When
he looked at her, he knew she was worth every hazard. “Your pardon, sweet flower? I was woolgathering.”

She slipped her hand in his. Her touch warmed him. “I asked where should we plight our troth?” She wrinkled her nose as she glanced around the cell. “I would rather stand outside in the snowstorm than be married inside a prison.”

Sandor cupped her cheek with his free hand. “Would a chapel suit you?” he asked with a smile. How could he not smile when he looked at her?

Intense astonishment touched her face. “This hell-hole has a chapel?”

He shrugged. “’Tis in ruins on the far side of the courtyard. The roof is gone and so is the colored glass that its arched window once held. The altar table is mere rubble.” Sandor saw the light leave her eyes. “But the baptismal font is still there in a small alcove to one side. Will that do?”

A smile of joy parted her lips. “Aye!” she breathed. She swung her cloak over her shoulders. “What should I bring? Alas, I have no flowers to deck my hair and a nun’s habit makes a poor bridal gown.”

Her perfection bathed his eyes. “
You
are the only flower needed.” He inserted a fresh candle in the lantern, then lit it with a twig from the fire. “’Twill keep away the evil spirits while we speak with God. Come.”

Taking her hand, he led her past the guardroom and up the stairs to the open courtyard. Tonia huddled deeper in her cloak and hood when the full force of the wind-driven snow hit them.

She surveyed the deep drifts that had piled up in the corners. “I had no idea how fierce the storm was,” she said, raising her voice so that Sandor could hear her over the cry of the gale.

He bent
down his head and said in her ear, “’Tis a godsend since it has given us the time we need and a respite from the King’s long arm.”

Sandor passed the lantern to Tonia, then he lifted her in his arms and carried her across the white expanse to a low archway on the far side. Shielding the flickering lantern’s flame, she hid her face against his chest. He felt her warm breath even through his padded jerkin.

Once inside the old chapel, Sandor hugged the wall until he came to the baptismal alcove that he had described to Tonia. Fortunately the wind blew away from this direction so that the paving stones at the rear of the small vaulted chamber were relatively dry and free from the snowdrifts. After sweeping away dead leaves and other nameless refuse from the floor, he set Tonia on her feet. The chamber was chill as a gravestone and the lantern’s brave light did little to encourage warmth.

When Sandor leaned down to apologize for the mean surroundings, Tonia stopped his speech with a fluttering kiss on his lips.

“’Tis a goodly place,” she whispered. “I am content.” She dropped her hood to her shoulders and shook the stray snowflakes from her midnight hair. “Now what do we do?”

He grinned at her. How exquisite she looked in the glow of their little candle! He knew deep within his soul that their marriage had been foreordained in heaven. He took her cold hands within his.

“I, Sandor Matskella, do promise from this moment on to love, to protect and to honor you, Gastonia, as your own true husband for as long as there is breath in my body. This I vow before God.”

Tonia kissed
his fingertips then replied, “I, Gastonia Alicia Cavendish, do promise to love, to obey and to be faithful to you, Sandor, as your own, true loving wife as long as there is breath in my body. This I vow before God.” She sealed her pledge with another kiss on his hand.

Sandor gave her fingers a little squeeze. He knew she would hesitate over the next part. “In a Rom ceremony, the bride and groom give each other gifts of bread and salt,” he began.