The Judge and the Gypsy by Sandra Chastain

himself in her welcoming sheath brought her new life, new rapture.
    She wanted him, Rasch thought crazily, as much as he wanted her. They were irrevocably connected now, soaring with the gods. Olympus was reached and surpassed when their release flung them into a corner of the heavens before sending them floating back to earth in a dreamy state of tranquillity.
    He lay suspended in the wonder of the moment before he felt the brisk air slap his bare backside. With a groan of regret he rolled to his side, drawing Savannah into his arms, bringing the sleeping bag over them as an intimate cocoon.
    Making love with this Gypsy woman was so incredible that he couldn’t begin to believe what he’d experienced. This was some waking dream, some erotic fantasy he’d conjured up. He closed his eyes, determined not to think or question. He just wanted to feel.
    Rasch cared about her, really cared. The idea broke over Savannah like the icy wind from which Rasch had tried to protect her. She was lying in his arms, still caught up in the ecstatic satiety of their lovemaking, still tingling from the wonder of the feelings he’d evoked. She never expected to experience such rapture, such fulfillment. Even now she could barely believe what had happened.
    For weeks she’d plotted her revenge. She’d make the judge fall in love with her, make him want her beyond reason, then she’d disappear, leaving him hurting just as she and her father had hurt when Tifton had died. At one point she’d actually considered killing the man who’d just risked his life to save her.
    But the conflicting emotions raging through her were being overwhelmed by a stream of euphoria, delightful feelings of being cherished and exalted. She couldn’t close them off. Rasch cared about her. Her plan seemed to be working, she decided as she felt the renewed movement of his fingertips on her breast. Or was it only that she was caught up in a web of her own spinning?
    At the moment she couldn’t seem to think clearly. All she could focus on was the knowledge that she’d have to leave soon. But, she rationalized, the miracle of their single joining was enough for her. She couldn’t be sure about Rasch, though. She wouldn’t leave yet—not until she was certain of the outcome. Making love to Rasch had been the undefined part of her plan; enjoying it was simply an unexpected benefit, she told herself as she slid her leg across his thighs and pressed against him.
    “You risked your life for me,” she whispered. “How did you know the bear was there?”
    “I didn’t. It was the chipmunk,” he answered, burying one hand in her hair while the other encircled her breast.
    “The chipmunk?” He was suffering from aftershock, or maybe it was her. She was again falling under the spell of his lips and the tantalizing sensations aroused by his caresses.
    “I went into the woods to take a—to, well, anyway, while I was there, a chipmunk jumped up on a log. I thought he was just laughing until I realized that he was trying to tell me something, something urgent.”
    “A chipmunk told you that I was in danger?”
    “Yes. I don’t know how, but I knew.”
    Savannah was stunned. Outside of a few people inthe circus, she’d never known of anyone besides herself to have that kind of link with animals. She never expected Rasch to acquire it. “It isn’t hard to communicate,” she said softly.
    “Yesterday I wouldn’t have believed any of this, Gypsy, but you seem to have some strange power over my mind as well as my body.”
    “Your body?”
    “Yes. It’s communicating its needs quite distinctly. Can you feel it?”
    “Oh, yes,” she said.
    This time their ascent to the heavens was slow and delicious. And he was right. There was a power in their lovemaking. Power and release. Gentleness and warmth. Savannah fell asleep in her lover’s arms. It wasn’t until later, when she waked happy and content, that she faced the truth. Her plan had been altered.
    Outside