My Fair Gypsy.

1842, London

Nadia Lovel had excelled at one thing all her life----taking things that did not belong to her. It was a talent she was not particularly proud of, but under the given circumstances, she could not afford to have a sense of morality. Tonight, she was putting her thieving abilities to use on a staggering drunkard who had fallen in the middle of King street.

"Hand it over gypsy! Or I swear when I get my hands on you, I'm gonna"—

The gypsy cut the man's threat off with a boisterous laugh. "Drunken fool," she mocked. "Perhaps if you were not laying upon the street like a cod fish, you may actually have a chance of catching me." She shook her head slightly, "No, not even then would you succeed."

The man lifted his head from the ground, and shot Nadia a piercing gaze that should have withered her on the spot. She knew she deserved every ounce of his wrath and could feel the guilt spreading within her like a plague. But the sound of her uncle's voice popped into her head, and she imagined what he would do if she came back empty handed again. Keeping those horrible images in mind, Nadia laughed carelessly at his fury and continued playing the role she was born to: a heartless thief.

Swiftly, she held up a golden heart necklace that had been the cause of their encounter. "All this trouble over a measly trinket," she sneered. "Let me guess, for your true love?"

"None of your damn business!" He growled, and hoisted himself up unto his feet. He stumbled at first; his feet crossing over the other. But after a few seconds of reassuring his stance, he managed to balance himself out.

The man was much bigger than Nadia had expected; for he looked smaller on the ground. But now that he was standing upright, she saw that he stood well over six feet, and possessed a solid muscular build. His attire was not made for a commoner on the streets, but for a gentleman in society. A fine black tailored suit clung to his powerful body along with a white untied cravat hanging around his neck. His facial features were hard to distinguish due to the dim lighting of the street lamps; but Nadia could tell that he was very young, perhaps six or seven years older than herself.

Still marveling at the man's gigantic size, Nadia began to reconsider stealing from him.
But as she continued to gaze upon his face shrouded in the covering darkness, she felt a strange magnetic pull between them; like she was a moth being drawn to flame. Confused by what she was feeling, she decided to let the chips fall where they lay. "A gentleman," she scoffed, as she eyed him head to toe. "Tell me, why is a gentleman lying on the ground?"

He disregarded her question entirely. "The necklace. Now," he ordered.

Nadia remained unfazed by the man's blatant hostility. Years of enduring her uncle's violent outbursts including other angry victims she had stole from made her immune to such behavior. "Well my lord, that is what you people call yourselves by is it not?" she said in a mocking grin. "I'm afraid I cannot give you what you seek."

"And why is that?" he barked.

"I quite fancy this piece of jewelry," she said as she twirled the necklace around her index finger, "I think I should like to wear it."

The man lifted his finger with a menacing stare. "If you even dare place it around your neck, you will regret it."

Nadia knew she shouldn't taunt the man, for heavens sake it was bad enough that she had robbed him blind while he was laying unconscious in the the street. Or at least he was unconscious if only for a few seconds. She decided she would end their meeting quickly by using one of her old tricks."Strong words, for a man that cannot walk straight," she mused. "I'll tell you what my lord. I am going to give you the opportunity to throttle me as you so desire."

Nadia did not miss the way his brows quirked up in confusion before returning back to its deadly glower. "Lets play a game," she continued, "if you can catch me before I reach the corner of the street," which was a rough half mile distance, "I will give you this necklace, and you may do whatever it is you see fit to me."

The large man clenched his jaw tightly. Oh, he was definitely annoyed, rightly so, but for some reason that made Nadia want to illicit a smile. However she fought to resist the sudden urge.

"When I catch you, and I will," he replied darkly, "you're going to wish the devil himself caught you instead of me."

"Look around you," Nadia said, as she gestured a hand toward their surroundings of cobbled stone streets, crumbling buildings, and stench filled alleys, "we're already in Hell," and placed the necklace within the pocket of her long blue skirt. "Now enough talking, more running." Nadia dashed off without warning, letting her legs fly as she headed for the corner of the street.

Deftly dodging passing hackneys and dirt faced beggars, Nadia wasn't the least bit worried of losing. Ever since her Gypsy tribe moved to London a month ago, she had spent almost every night pick pocketing, and raiding merchant goods across the desolate streets of West End. She had also played this so called "game" on several occasions and each time she always got away. There was no reason why this time would be any different.

Risking a glance to see where her perpetrator was, she saw that he was nowhere in sight. Probably took another tumble she thought thankfully. Slowing her pace, she began to catch her breath, and smiled in triumphant as the corner laid a couple feet away.

However, her silent victory was abruptly interrupted by a pair of sturdy hands that gripped her upper arms tightly. All too soon, she was dragged into an alley and forcibly pinned against a cold solid wall. There was no way he could have gotten ahead of her that fast! As Nadia's chest heaved wildly, she felt something was very wrong. Staring wide-eyed at her captor, she realized that this was not the same man. It was a different one; and from behind him stood two dark figures.

"Look what I've caught boys," the man holding Nadya exclaimed. "I got a fresh one." The two men emerging from the shadows began to howl like wolves in delight.

"Let me go," Nadia demanded, as she twisted her body out of the man's iron grip.

"So you likes to play rough do you, filthy wench?" asked the man in a velvety voice. He was standing so close that Nadia could smell the bourbon emanating from his mouth. Her nose began to burn from its foul stench. Suddenly without warning, she felt a stinging slap across her face.

"Ready boys?" he called out. "Let's have some fun."

Before Nadia could work up a sufficient scream, she saw a flash of movement slip into the alley. Within minutes, she witnessed one of the men falling to the ground with a loud thud, and the other grasping hold of his stomach. The man holding her turned, and was met with a right hook to his cheek. The impact was so precise, that Nadia flinched as she heard the sound of his jaw crack from the punch. Outraged, the man rushed forward with a left kick, but was instantly flipped to the ground.

Squinting in the dark shadows, Nadia saw that it was the man she had stole from!

"Leave. Now!" he growled with a rippling snarl, "or I'll have all of you swinging in the gallows."

All three beaten men looked at the enraged man and then at each other. It took only ten seconds for each to scurry away; none of them daring to look back.

Nadia remained frozen against the wall, and stared upon her unexpected savior. She swore he could of have been the devil himself with his huge brooding form and piercing dark eyes. She had seen that same look of rage and primal lust before within the men of her camp. The best thing to do, was to wait until the emotion subsided.

"Are you alright?" he asked gruffly, as he approached Nadia with a swiftness that caught her off guard.

"Yes," she answered unsteadily, still in somewhat shock.

"Did they hurt you?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle."

Before she could ask where he had come from, she felt his huge hand grasp her arm and pull her out of the alley. He guided them directly under a street lamp and turned so that they were facing each other. Now that there was light to reveal the man's face, Nadia felt herself catch her breath. He was absolutely the most handsomest gadjo (gypsy term used for non-gypsies) she had ever laid eyes upon:

He had midnight colored curls that drew above the front of his forehead, along with a honey tan complexion that hinted to the fact that he spent most of his time outdoors, which was unusual Nadia thought for a gentleman. Her eyes began to drift down to his lips that were full and plush. She took in the sight of his strong distinctive jawline that gave shape to his angular face, accompanied by dark curved brows and a straight nose. But what immediately caught her attention, was a pair of remarkably blue eyes. The color so intense it looked almost violet.

And Nadia knew exactly what he was seeing in return: A small figured girl with raven colored hair tumbling by her waist and dark shaded brows and lashes.

She knew her appearence resembled nothing of the civilized women in society, with their clean angelic expression, blonde hair, and fancy laced trim dresses. She looked more like a wild pirette with a hint of danger that people sensed to avoid. And unlike the ivory-pale faces that populated the streets of London, she had almond tan skin that enhanced her dark striking features of exotic hazel eyes and pale pink lips.

Time seemed to slow altogether as they surveyed one another. But the sound of cackling laughter echoing from across the street severed their locked gazes. Two old beggars dressed in rags were happily chattering away with each other, and continuing to laugh loudly as if they were enjoying brandy in a drawing room instead of being seated on a dirt paved sidewalk.

"I won," she heard him utter.

"What?" she asked dazed, too preoccupied by those piercing eyes.

"I won the game," he clarified. Nadia could've sworn she saw the edge of his lips quirk into a smile, but the movement was so fast she convinced herself it was nothing. "So I believe you'll be handing over that necklace now," he was saying. "Or are you going back on your word?"

Cursing inwardly, Nadia had no choice but to give it back. She couldn't outrun him now, given their proximity was only a foot apart.

As if he could sense her contemplating an escape, he spoke darkly, "I would catch you."

Although Nadia knew he was right, she couldn't help challenging his arrogant certainty. "Would you now?" she snickered.

He narrowed his eyes. "Careful gypsy. Don't push your luck."

"Or what?"

"As I recall, the terms were I get to do whatever I see fit to you." He tilted his head to the side. "You may not like what I have in mind."

Nadya felt a nervous shiver crawl up her spine. She sought to conceal it with a humorless laugh. "Is this the part where I'm supposed to quiver in fear?"

"Lets make something clear gypsy. If you will not hand me the necklace willingly, I will be forced to take it from you," he paused to give her body an assessment that would make a nun blush, "and I promise to be extra thorough in my search for it."

The vision of his hands roaming her body caused an unusual flutter in Nadia's stomach. She could still feel the imprint of his strength on her arm when he dragged her out of the alley. As she held his gaze, she had the disturbing impression that if she didn't react quickly, this dark haired man would very well carry out his threat. Immediately, she searched through her pocket and raised the necklace toward him. However, instead of him simply taking it, he snatched her wrist in a punishing grip.

Infuriated, she squirmed to free her arm. She tried to punch him with her other hand but he held her wrist tighter and twisted it in an awkward angle. She was completely immobilized."What the hell? Let me go! You have your precious necklace."

"Not yet."

"The devil you say! Some gentleman you are," she growled.

"I never said I was a gentleman," he replied darkly. "You assumed I was. Don't let the fancy suit fool you darling, I'm a scoundrel in disguise."

"So I'm beginning to notice," she shot back, desperately trying to pry her arm away.

"What's your name?" he asked, tightening his hold.

"What makes you think I would tell you anything?"

"Your name," he pursued.

Glancing around the smog covered environment, she saw the darkened sky beginning to fade into a soft shade of grey, and sensed that sunrise would soon be approaching. Her uncle would be awaking any moment, and she had no desire to face his punishment for returning to camp so late.

"Nadia," she answered in a biting tone. "My name is Nadia."

"Nadia," he repeated in wonderment, as if he found her name unique. Then his voice turned serious. "I should take you straight to Newgate."