Chapter Seventeen
Six Years Ago
Chris didn’t have to wait too long until he saw Nobi again.
There was a pleasure fair happening on the weekend that he decided to attend in hopes of seeing her, and he was soon to be amply rewarded.
He didn’t spend any time trying the new foods he saw and smelled in the air.
He didn’t bother stopping in for a pint at one of the new stalls he had never seen before.
And he wasn’t even curious about the trinkets from the Romani tents. Yet.
Not without her at least.
Normally, he would have been lingering at each new place in search of curios or something to treat his palate, but they held no appeal for the moment.
The only thing he wanted to do was find her first. Once he had her company, then they could experience the rest together; as much or as little as she wanted.
He just yearned to be by her side. In a way, he was almost more curious to see her reaction to everything than for himself to see it all.
So the search for her was all-important.
Of course he found her at the shooting gallery, where he had only been lurking—waiting—for roughly five—sixty—minutes.
When she approached the gallery, he sauntered up casually.
“I was hoping to see you here today.”
“You were?” She glanced around the grounds, taking in the food and drink stalls, along with the various tents boasting of wrestlers, wax works, freakshows, a fortune teller and more. “How did you know where to find me?”
“I reasoned that at some point you would make your way over to the shooting gallery, given your impressive skill level.”
“You’ve never seen me shoot.”
“No. It was self-proclaimed.”
“Oh,” she demurred a little and then as if regaining her balance, added, “well, I suppose I probably would have said that. It is true, you know.”
“I think I need to see it for myself now.”
“You will.”
Making the vow, she stepped up toward the fair worker who promptly offered the gun to Chris.
“Here you go, Your Grace.”
With a gentle redirection, Chris said, “The first one should be offered to the lady, wouldn’t you agree?”
A red blush crept into the fair worker’s face. “Of-of course, Your Grace.” He bowed awkwardly and then proffered the gun to Nobi.
“Thank you,” she said, taking the gun.
Armed, the two took their stances in front of the targets.
“Where are your sisters?”
“They didn’t want to shoot again.”
“You’ve already been here?”
“Only all morning,” she smiled at him. “I took the last hour off to do things they wanted to do. It only seemed fair.” When his gaze swept over to the fair worker, she clarified that someone else had been working the earlier shift.
“Well, if you’ve been here all morning, you certainly have the advantage.”
“Chris,” she placed a hand on his forearm, “when it comes to shooting, I can almost guarantee you that I will always have the advantage.”
A soft chuckle rushed out of his mouth. “Then let’s shoot, Sharpshooter.”
The targets were set up about twenty five paces away. Hitting the outer ring won the shooter a small sweetmeat. The middle ring won a toy solider while a bullseye was rewarded with a small wooden horse.
And if anyone was able to hit the tiny pebble sitting on top of the target, they would win the spinning globe.
“If you’ve been here all morning, what have you won?”
With a playful eye and an arched tone, she said, “I’ve been winning for myself. I pick a spot on the target not corresponding to a prize, and then I hit it. I did win a few sweetmeats though.” She grinned as she patted her pocket.
“Right then. Shall we say best of three?”
“Is there another option?”
“Announce your shot and then take it.”
She didn’t answer, but when he glanced over, she was already lining herself up.
“Wooden horse,” she whispered. A beat hung in the air.
The wind swept a few strands of her hair across her face, and she waited for the movement to still.
Then the smallest movement from her finger triggered the gun and a bullet flew.
With a soft whistle, a small wooden horse was placed on the wooden ledge in front of her.
Chris raised his gun and called out the same mark. With a bang, another wooden horse was placed on the ledge.
“Excellent shot, Your Grace.”
She had never referred to him that way before, and something about her submissive yet teasing tone caused a melting sensation to pour over his body.
He cleared his throat.
“You call the next one,” she said.
“Globe.”
It was ambitious, but he had to try. He took a steadying breath and then pulled the trigger. The pebble was much smaller than he expected, and he missed. He took his third shot and missed again.
When Nobi took her position, he saw the glint in her eye, as if she had been saving this shot for him to see.
Click. BANG! Plop.
The pebble slid off the target.
To say he was impressed was an understatement. Clearly the fair worker was equally impressed.
“Haven’t seen that yet,” he said in awe.
Nobi merely lifted one shoulder half an inch and pulled her lips back in a small smirk.
As the globe was placed in front of her, she spun it around, thinking of what to say.
“I’ll carry it for you,” Chris offered as he returned their weapons to the fair worker.
“Does it sound silly to say I won it for you?”
“No, but you won it. It belongs to you.”
“You’re the one who wants to travel the world. Not me. You should have it,” she said on a whisper.
And though the words were said quietly, they were powerful. They forged their way into his heart.
He took a step closer to her, until he could smell her soft rosemary and mint fragrance. “For that reason, you should keep it. That way you’ll always know where I am.”
Her smile lit up her face like the sun appearing from behind the clouds. “Then I shall be selfish and keep it.”
It took a few minutes to sort out, but Chris had one of his footmen take the prize and deliver it to her house.
With free hands, they were able to explore the fair.
Chris convinced Nobi that they needed to try as much food as they could. From meat pies to roasted nuts, and from toffee to a small bowl of pottage.
“I can’t take another bite,” Nobi protested.
“Just one more.” Chris couldn’t hide the excitement from his voice.
And a realization must have dawned on Nobi’s face because her brows furrowed in curiosity as she said, “This is how you imagine traveling, isn’t it?”
She understood him. Without him trying to show her or tell her anything. He was just himself, and she understood.
“Yes,” he sighed contently. “I imagine traveling the world will have so many new experiences, like food, that I will have a hard time keeping in shape.”
He felt her eyes scan his body and his blood heated up while his throat went dry.
“I think you’ll be fine,” she whispered.
“Then let’s go try another one. How about the fruit stall? It looks as though they have some rare fruits.”
“You try it, I’ll come with you.”
“It won’t be the same.”
She only laughed at his argument. “I’ll try one more with you, but you must realize that there will be other fairs, Chris.”
He placed her hand on his forearm to reroute them. “You’re right. I don’t need the fruit. Right now, at least. What should we see next then?”
With what he hoped was a twinkle in his eye, Chris said, “We should visit the fortuneteller.”
Her questioning brow made him laugh, and he asked, “Don’t you want to know your future.”
“In some ways, I suppose…But I didn’t think you would be the kind to want to know that.”
“I’m not. But I thought you might like it. Besides, I’ve always been curious about the Romani culture. Let’s go.”
He wasn’t really giving her a chance to refuse. Already, he had her hand tucked away on his arm, and he was about to drag her there when she blurted out.
“Oh! Let’s visit that metalwork stall first. Then we can visit the fortuneteller.”
They meandered through the light crowd until they stood in front of the table.
It was a known skill that Romani were adept with metalworking.
The tables were lined with exquisite examples of everything from bookends to jewelry.
Chris watched as Nobi eyed a few pieces, but then saw her gaze snag on the far table. Immediately he knew why.
“I didn’t realize Romani fashioned weapons?” he remarked to the craftsman.
“We don’t normally, but we have a few men who studied the craft.”
Nobi’s finger trailed one particular pistol with rose embellishments.
“She’ll take that one,” Chris said.
“No, I couldn’t,” she protested.
“Why not?”
“Well…” Chris read her body language. Her eyes and that one trailing finger were not in agreement with the feeble protestation emerging from her lips.
“Well, if she won’t take it, I will.” Chris stepped toward the pistol.
“Oh, but really, it’s not made for…um…you.”
With a wry look, Chris asked, “It’s not?”
“No.” She picked up the pistol and handed it to the craftsmen for wrapping. “I’ll take it.”
Chris piped up, asking the craftsmen, “How do you say thank you in Romani?”
“There are different languages among the various Romani groups. But we say te danke.”
“Te danke,” Chris echoed the words and the man nodded his approval.
Once the pistol was purchased with ammunition and wrapped up, they left the stall.
“I know what you did back there,” she said softly.
“I didn’t think I was being subtle.”
Her smile was worth it. “Well, thank you. Te danke. Shall we go see about that fortuneteller now?”
“This way, Lady Zenobia,” he gestured with a chivalrous bow.
The tent they approached was made of red velvet and had gold tassels hanging from it.
Once they entered Madame Araminta’s tent, they were greeted by a woman sitting in shadows cast by a few sparse candles.
Nearly cloaked in darkness, it was difficult to make out her features.
Even a scarf covered her head, only revealing a few strands which appeared to be the color of fire.
“Sit. Sit.” She gestured to the chairs. “What brings you to Madame Araminta?”
“Curiosity,” Chris answered at the same time that Nobi pointed a thumb at him.
A smile tugged on the corner of Madame Araminta’s mouth, but she said nothing. After a beat, she yanked the cover off of her crystal ball and swirled her hands over the top of it.
“I see…love—”
“Oh, we’re not in love,” Nobi interjected innocently, or at least he assumed she was just trying to be honest. But the words sliced through him all the same. “We’re friends.” The two words were added with what looked like a hopeful grin.
“Yes. We’re friends,” Chris relayed to the fortuneteller. Though he thought a fortuneteller should be able to pick up on that.
“Don’t interrupt me,” she finally snapped. “I see greatness for you.”
“Which one of us?” Nobi asked.
“Both of you. Now don’t interrupt me again.” Her eyes trained on the ball, seeing (or not seeing) something, Chris waited for her next words.
“I have not seen the likes of this in a long time. This is rare indeed.” She exhaled a rough breath.
“You will be forced to choose, many times in life. Safety and comfort or uncertainty and adventure. It is up to you. You must choose. The two camps seem incompatible. It’s true.
They are impossible to unite—no, next to impossible to unite. It will take—”
“Fire,” Chris called out.
“Yes, fire, and—”
Chris was up on his feet now and hauling Nobi with him to protect her. “No. There’s a fire climbing up your table. One of the candles must have fallen. Do you have some water?”
Madame Araminta was nonplussed by the fire and far too engrossed in the crystal ball, yet she waved her hand behind her head, muttering something about a shelf.
Chris found the vase with flowers in it and doused the small flames.
The fortuneteller’s words were ringing in his head.
He had heard enough. Whether she read the ball, their clothing, or their body language, she was right.
They were two people who wanted entirely different futures.
Maybe he had been fooling himself. Maybe he had allowed himself to hope too much, to feel too much. To think the impossible.
She was his perfect person except for where and how she wanted to live.
He wanted to argue with himself that those were insignificant in the grand scheme of life…
but really, they were in some ways the most significant.
They affected a person’s initial decisions in setting up a home or a family.
And if they disagreed and one person compromised, then every day, resentment would build.
They knew each other so well, and it felt right just being with her…yet, there was no denying—and apparently no uniting—their contrasting worldviews.
Not for the first or last time, Chris thought to himself that he would just take what was available to him. He wouldn’t push her for more. He would never do that. He never wanted her to feel pressured to change herself, and he would never want her to sacrifice her dreams for his.
The news shouldn’t have disturbed him as much as it did, but the message was clear. They could have friendship. Anything else was impossible.