[Balancing Act] & [Portellan- A Love Story]
an excerpt

Portellan- A Love Story:

Once upon a time there was a girl they called Gypsy. A girl who would one day have the world at her feet. A girl who had dreams. Once upon a time the grass was greener on the other side, and I was climbing over the hedge. I was different from them, and I knew it; I had a future.

I was born in the wagon of a travelling show, a show that had once been the best renowned in the world- we had been stars, we had been as rich as kings and queens with barrels of gold to cart around with us- and that show was now the biggest flop in the country. We were broke. The only money we could now acquire, with our limited company, was the money my mother got thrown at her as she danced. My father would do whatever he could, sometimes he traded in horses, buying them and training them to sell for an unfair price to the rich parents who came to buy them for their spoilt little children.

I always knew that I was different. I wasn’t born a star, but I knew that one day I would be one. My family had become Gypsies long before I was born, doomed to the travelling life with only as much as we could carry, but I knew that one day I would change that. I was only a young girl, but by the time I had decided what I wanted to be in life, I was a smart young girl. I knew I wanted a better life, but now the question was how.

How to begin my story? When? I think that my life began before I was born, and I should like to tell the story of my birth on a cold night in the middle of August, when the tapestries fell from the walls and the candles fluttered in an invisble breeze. I should like to tell you how I got my name, Gypsy, and why they call me Veronica, but I think that would not be wise. That was my past, and the moment when my future began was a night in the middle of winter. I think I shall begin my story there.

****
Excerpt from Chapter Three:

The next morning we moved on. Papa had Angel and I sort out the horses, take down the awning and get rid of all the hay which we had used before we ate breakfast. The snow was still falling outside, but it wasn’t as cold now, and the snow on the floor had started to melt and turn to mush. Every time I looked at Nicholas, I felt something stir deep within me again, and I wanted to be alone with him. There was no chance, so I had to settle for a touch of the hand now and then, and an accidental kiss on the hand when he was brushing his hair.

Once we moved on, the moors running behind us like a flowing river of white, I felt reassured. Once we were in the city we would have accommodation, not just a wagon, and then I could be alone with Nicholas for much longer. I wanted him to teach me more about his life, about where he had come from, and I couldn’t fail to remember the fact that Papa had told us he did horse tricks; something that I had always aspired to learn.

The journey to the nearest town actually took less time that we had imagined, probably since Papa had failed to plan for the fact that we were heading in the wrong direction for Portellan after all. It didn’t matter though, since we needed to stop for supplies, and we wouldn’t get far without hitting a town anyway.

The city we eventually arrived in two days later was a small one, more of a town really, since most of the people living there commuted to work every day in the next city along the track. We were glad just to find somewhere that wasn’t boggy and wet, and some place where the snow wouldn’t be a potential hazard to our horses. We found that place at a tavern called The Three Moons. We had seen thousands of places like this on our yearly journeys, but by this point we weren’t too bothered what the place looked like from the outside, or how cliché the name was. It was warm, they offered rooms with single beds and they provided us with breakfast and dinner. What more could we want? For Nicholas and me the food wasn’t an issue, and the warmth of the rooms was just a bonus, but the privacy? That was key.

“Papa,” I said the evening we arrived. “Do you mind if I go and sit with Nicholas in his room? He said that he’d like to talk to me about the tricks he wants us to learn.” Papa thought about this for a minute before he replied, and even then there were frown lines that creased his forehead.

“Yes, okay,” he agreed reluctantly. “No funny business though, d’you hear me? You behave yourself, he’s a very impressionable young man.” For a moment I thought he suspected our secret and my heart flew up into my throat. I thought I was going to choke until I realised he was actually talking about my attitude towards the trick-learning, and I swallowed hard.

“Of course, Papa. I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Good girl,” he ruffled my hair affectionately and left me to my own devices. With my heart still thumping in my chest I rushed down the hallway of the inn and to the room I knew Nicholas was staying in. I didn’t bother knocking on the door, deciding that if he didn’t know I was coming then he wasn’t very good at seeing the future. I flew in with my hair pushed out from underneath my little cap, and my dress swinging around my legs in a frantic attempt to slow me down.

Nicholas was sat by the fire with a book in his hands that he was only pretending to read. He looked up as though he was surprised, but I could tell from the little lines either side of his lips that he was trying to not laugh. I closed the door behind me and he put the book down, the sounds of leather against wood cutting through the air followed closely by the clicking sound of the lock as I drew it in place.

“Why Miss Veronica,” he purred. “That’s not very ladylike now, is it?”

“Screw ladylike,” I pouted. “Why do you care if I’m a lady or not so long as you can get your hand up my skirt?” Nicholas laughed and came to pull me towards him. In a soothing gesture he trailed his hands down my spine, making me stand up straighter and lift my head back so my neck was exposed.

“It’s not only your skirts I want,” he murmured, lowering his head so his lips were pressed against the throbbing pulse in my neck. I shivered on contact and closed my eyes.

“I missed you,” I whispered, careless that it had only been a day since we had been alone like this. I wanted to feel him pressed against me, our bodies entwined, his fingers in my hair and his lips on my own.

“I want you,” moaned Nicholas quietly, purring against my neck as his pressed feverish kisses along the bare skin of my throat. I nodded, and cupped his chin in my hands, lifting his face so it was level with mine. Silently I led him to the bed, pressed my arms around his waist and began to kiss him again, my lips moving easily over the skin around his jaw and down to his neck. I felt his heartbeat quicken beneath my palm when I lifted it to his chest, and then, he pushed against me and we tumbled into a heap onto the cheap mattress. His kisses grew more urgent, frantic as they brushed my skin, and soon he was lying on top of me, his hand reaching up and up underneath my dress. He had seduced me, and I had let him.

As he stroked and caressed my body I felt myself falling into a white light; it was bright and it opened up before me as his kisses spread across my skin. I wanted to love him, I wanted to do things I had never even considered before, and he- he was gentle with me. Slowly he withdrew his hand from my dress, and stared deep into my eyes. We connected, a spark of electric emotion flying between us, and I smiled.

“Are you sure-”

“Yes,” I said with hesitation. “God yes, I’m sure. Don’t ask me again.” He smiled, grinning like a Cheshire Cat, and then set about removing my underwear. It was a messy affair, with clothes all about the room before we were done, but we were happy like that. The warmth of the fire made it possible to make love without shivers, and as I felt him inside me, that burning passion in my chest broke. It flowed throughout the entirety of my body, and I would have screamed out in pleasure if we had not been in a room next door to my sister. I had never felt more alive, more comfortable with anything in my life. I remembered what Nicholas had said, about not having done anything in his life worth anything before, and then I wondered if this would count. Would loving me be worth it?

“I love you.”