embarrassment, feeling the initial flush suffuse every inch of her skin. That the circus owner didn't disavow any of the comments didn't help matters.
Chuckling at some of the observations, Ros held up her hand to gain their attention once more. "Again - be that as it may…" she trailed off at the laughter. "We now have two more mouths to feed. And a potential danger." Her face became solemn. "As far as anyone need know, these women have been with us since we stopped at Aimsbury near a month ago. Understood?"
There was a general rumble of agreement.
"Good." The owner's hazel eyes scanned her people with practiced ease, making contact with each individual, calculating. "We're in this together - have been for many a year. I trust you all with my life, as you trust me with yours. Trust me in this."
"Aye, Ros!" a woman called. "We're better together than apart. You've said so yourself. We'll stand by your decision."
Again, the sound of several voicing their approval.
With a slight bow, Ros said, "Thank you, Sati." A smile returned to her face. "Rehearsal after lunch. Eat light and until then, enjoy the morning."
The performers dispersed, chattering at their good fortune. Katerin attempted to join them, but the hand on her shoulder tightened.
"Stay," Ros ordered.
Swallowing the bile in her throat, the brunette fought with anger and fear as she nodded hesitantly. She watched as Ilia was urged to follow the rest, giving a false smile of encouragement. When they were alone, Katerin was relieved when the hand fell away.
"I'll not lie to you, either," Ros said. She walked away, turning to straddle the first log she came to. "May I speak frankly, lady?"
The brunette blinked, surprised at the clear gaze directed at her. "Of course," she answered softly.
"I may be a sapphist, but I do not condone rape." Seeing the small woman blush, she looked away. "You'll be as safe in my bed as you would in your mother's arms."
Flustered, it took a few moments for Katerin to respond. "I… Thank you."
"The Invader's not someone to play lightly, however," Ros continued, still not looking at the brunette. "I'll get you away from his clutches and you can stay as long as you wish, but you must make the decision when to leave my troupe." With that she rose, dusting woodchips from her breeches. "Lunch is promptly at midday. As I said, eat light. We work hard at rehearsals."
Katerin watched her stride from the tent, puzzled yet intrigued.
Chapter 3
Ros certainly didn't speak in jest , Katerin thought, wiping a sweaty brow on the sleeve of her blouse. She watched as half a dozen of the troupe performed feats on what they called Chinese Poles. Two tall poles were in the center of the 'stage', a series of ropes holding them upright in their bases. On each were three of the clowns, leaping and bouncing from one to another, passing each other by mere breaths. At one point, the brunette could only gasp as the performers levered their bodies parallel to the ground below using only their arms.
Ros clapped. "No, no!"
Pausing, all eyes and ears were focused on the owner. Those on the poles shifted their stances, locking their feet and arms about the wood and giving her their attention.
Stepping into the ring, the blonde continued, "Minkhat, your timing is off. Is your shoulder still paining you?"
"Some, I'll admit, Ros," the swarthy man who had asked Ilia about the Russian Swing said. He rolled one shoulder with a wince. "I can still have a go."
Ros shook her head, her tone and face brooking no argument. "No. Pain means it's not healed. Hop down - we don't want you to do further damage."
Slightly disgruntled, Minkhat did as ordered, pushing away from the pole, flipping into a backwards somersault and landing on his feet below.
"Katerin, do you know any of the healing arts?"
Startled at being called upon, the brunette blinked in response. At the irritated look she received, she quickly spoke up. "Aye, a bit."
"Good. Have Sameer show you
Carol Wallace, Bill Wallance