The Judge and the Gypsy by Sandra Chastain Page B

what she’d lose by refusing to continue what they’d shared. She hadn’t planned on the bear. And she was still struggling with her reaction to their lovemaking. She needed some time to think and perhaps reformulate her plan. For now, all she could do was try to conceal from him her true feelings.
    “Do you think our bear left?” she asked brightly.
    “According to the birds, she did.”
    Savannah looked up, startled to find that he’d moved back beside her. “You’re communicating with the birds now too?”
    “Communicating? Yes, I think so. I feel as if my body is in tune with the universe. You did that to me.”
    “I did?”
    He frowned, gave her a quick, hard kiss, and let her go. “Yes. I don’t know why you’re having second thoughts. No matter what you say, you’ve cast a spell over me, my Gypsy queen. You’ve changed my life forever.”
    A cloud passed briefly over the sun and cast a shadow on Rasch’s face. Savannah shivered. “No, no spells, I haven’t put my spell on you, not yet.”
    What he’d said was too close to the truth. She’d intended to fascinate him, mystify him, make him intensely aware of her. She’d never paid much attention to Zeena’s claim that Gypsies had certain powers to seduce and claim a man’s soul. Not until she’d determined to capture the judge. Still, she hadn’t tried any of the incantations she’d learned. The bag of love potions Zeena had pressed into her hand was still unopened in her bag.
    Quickly Savannah added wood and poked at thefire. Her skirt and blouse had been rinsed in the lake and were draped across the grass beside her sleeping bag to dry in the sun. Consciously she averted her eyes away from Rasch as she walked past him to fill the coffeepot from the lake. Using green sticks cut from a willow beside the lake, Rasch threaded them through their fish, fashioning a rotisserie, and set them to roast over the fire.
    The smell of the cooking fish filled the air, and Savannah realized how hungry she was.
    They broke off hot chunks of the fish and blew on them to cool them before filling their mouths. Between the two of them, they ate all four fish Rasch had caught, washing them down with the hot coffee.
    “Tell me about yourself, Gypsy,” Rasch said, licking a sliver of fish from his fingers. “Where do you live when you aren’t dropping from the sky or disappearing in a puff of smoke?”
    “I live everywhere and nowhere,” she said vaguely.
    “Sure, and you charm strangers into buying you food and clothes, and providing you with transportation?”
    “No. Not usually. I travel with friends. You know us Gypsies. We take care of ourselves.”
    Rasch leaned back on his elbows and stared at her. “How?”
    The conversation was becoming too personal. Her best hope at evasion was to continue the Gypsy fantasy he’d latched on to. “Off the land and our skills,” she said playfully, standing. “Right now I’m going to wash these things and pack our supplies.”
    As she leaned over, gathering up the remains of their meal, her breasts pushed against the fabric of her shirt. The jeans, tight and new, hugged her lushcurves. He heard the light tinkle of her bells as she rinsed the dishes in the lake. She might have removed her Gypsy clothing, but the bells were like her fragrance, a subtle reminder of her voluptuous mystery. Leaving the water’s edge, she sat down to braid her hair into a long plait that hung down her back.
    Her hair, uncombed and wildly tousled a moment ago, made Rasch remember his earlier thoughts of how she’d look rolling from a man’s bed. A man’s bed?
His
bed. His pulse began to race. Had it been only twenty-four hours ago?
    “Where will we camp tonight?” she called out.
    The thought of what the night would bring made it hard for Rasch to concentrate on an answer to her question. He was practically in thrall to the woman and the spell she was weaving around him. When Jake had told him to find a woman and try to relax,