Dazedly she thought back to that day when she’d been led, giggling and blindfolded, to his great-uncle’s trailer. Laszlo had been waiting for her. She felt a shiver run down her spine at the memory, for he’d looked heartbreakingly handsome and so serious she had wanted to cry. They’d sworn their love and commitment to one another, and his great-uncle had spoken some words in Romany, and then they had eaten some bread and some salt.
Coming out of her reverie, she stared hard at him wordlessly. There had been no actual marriage. It had been no more real than his love for her. But it had been part of the fantasy of their love. And now he was destroying that fantasy. Taking the memory of something beautiful, innocent and spontaneous and turning it into a means of hurting her.
Her vision blurred and she felt suddenly giddy, as though she were teetering on the edge of a cliff-face. ‘You’re despicable! Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to ruin that day?’
‘Ruin it?’ His features contorted with fury. ‘You’re the one who did that. By walking out on our marriage.’
Her pulse was fluttering and despite her best efforts her voice sounded high and jerky. ‘We’re not married,’ she said tightly. ‘Marriages are more than just words and kisses. This is just another of your lies—’
Her voice trailed off at the expression of derision on his face.
‘No. This is just the ultimate proof of how little you understood or respected my way of life. For you, my being Romany was just some whimsical lifestyle choice.’ He watched the blood suffuse her face and felt a spasm of pain. ‘You liked it that I was different—an outsider. But you didn’t expect or want me to stay like that. You thought I’d just throw it off, like a fancy dress costume, and become “normal” when it came to the rest of our lives.’ His eyes hardened. ‘That’s when you started whining about the mess and the moving around. But that’s what we do. It’s what I do.’
‘Except when you’re living in a castle,’ she said shakily.
His gaze held hers. ‘You’re going off topic, pireni. It doesn’t matter where I lived then or where I live now. We’re still married. I’m still your husband. And you’re my wife.’
She felt a stab of shock—both at the vehemence in his voice and at the sudden spread of treacherous heat at his possessive words.
Turning her head, she swallowed. ‘What happened in that trailer wasn’t a wedding, Laszlo. There were no guests. No vicar. No witnesses. We didn’t give each other rings. We didn’t even sign anything. It wasn’t a wedding at all and I’m not your wife.’
Laszlo forced himself to stay calm. He had too much pride to let her see that her horrified denial had reopened a wound that had never fully healed—a wound that had left him hollowed out with misery and humiliation.
Shaking his head, he gave a humourless laugh. ‘Oh, believe me, pireni, I wish you weren’t—but you are.’ His fingers curled into the palms of his hands. ‘In my culture a wedding is a private affair between a man and wife. We don’t register the marriage, and the only authority that’s needed for it to be recognised is the consent of the bride and groom.’
Prudence felt a vertigo-like flash of fear. She shook her head. ‘We’re not married,’ she croaked. ‘Not in the eyes of the law.’
The change in him was almost imperceptible. She might even have missed the slight rigidity about his jawline had the contempt in his eyes not seared her skin.
‘Not your law, maybe.’ He felt a hot, overpowering rage. ‘But in mine. Yes, we were married—and we still are.’
Closing her eyes, she felt a sudden, inexplicable sense of panic. Laszlo clearly believed what he was saying. Whilst she might have viewed the ceremony as a curious but charming dress rehearsal for the vintage-style white wedding she’d been planning, the marriage had been real to him. Nausea gripped her stomach. What did it really matter if there was no certificate? It didn’t mean that the vows they’d made were any less valid or binding.
Heat scorched her skin. What had she done? She looked up and his gaze held hers, and she saw that he was furious, fighting for control.
‘Laszlo, I didn’t—’
His voice was barely audible but it scythed through her words and on through her skin and bone, slicing into her heart.
‘This conversation is over. I’m sorry you had a wasted trip but your services are no longer required.’
Prudence looked at him in confusion, her face bleached of colour. ‘I—I don’t understand...’ she stammered. ‘What do you mean?’
Laszlo rounded on her coldly. ‘What do I mean?’ he echoed. ‘I mean that you’re fired—dismissed, sacked. Your contract is terminated and this meeting is over. As of this moment I never want to see your face again.’ He turned back towards the fire. ‘So why don’t you take your bags, turn around and get out of my house? Now.’
CHAPTER THREE
PRUDENCE FELT THE floor tilt towards her. She reached out and steadied herself against the back of an armchair. ‘You can’t do that,’ she said slowly. ‘You can’t just fire me.’
‘Oh, but I can.’
Laszlo turned and looked at her, full in the face, and a shudder raced through her as she saw to her horror that he meant it.
‘But that’s so unfair!’ Her voice seemed to echo around the room and she gazed at him helplessly.
‘I don’t care.’
He spoke flatly, his jaw tightening, and with a spasm of pain she knew that he didn’t. Knew too that it wouldn’t matter what she said or did and that it had probably never mattered. She had lost the job the moment Laszlo walked into the room. She just hadn’t realised that fact until now.