“You did. Kit, too, you said your friends call you. But I happen to like Christoph much better. It sounds more lyrical to my ears. Consider it an endearment.”

“Must I?”

She chuckled and rolled to the side of the bed, then headed for her clothes. “I think we must feed you immediately. Empty bellies lead to grouchiness.”

He blinked, then grinned to himself. She was right, of course. There was nothing wrong with her having a pet name for him. And besides, when she sashayed about the room naked like that, he simply couldn’t find anything really worth complaining about.

He got up to dress as well. When he finished and glanced at her again, it was to find that she was wearing that flashy dancing costume from last night, which would draw more attention to her than he would like.

“Have you nothing else to wear?” he asked.

“You didn’t exactly give me the opportunity to pack last night, Christoph. All I have is my satchel, which my grandmother tossed up to me just before you sent that mad stallion of yours galloping out of the camp.”

He grimaced with the reminder that he’d been less than gentlemanly last night. “I’ll take you back today to collect your things—and perhaps to town to buy something more . . . normal looking.”

She raised a brow at his choice of words. “You think my clothes are not normal?”

“Well, certainly they are.” His tone turned conciliatory. “It is just, they are . . . well . . .”

He couldn’t come up with an appropriate word that wouldn’t insult her. She supplied some for him, and it wasn’t difficult to see that she was insulted.

“Common perhaps? Peasantlike? Suitable only for Gypsy vagabonds?”

“There is no need for you to take offense, Anastasia. Your clothes were perfectly fine for the life you were living on the road. But you’ll be living differently from now on. It’s as simple as that.”

She was frowning now, not at all placated. “Are you going to have trouble, Christoph, dealing with what I am?”

“What you are?”

“That I’m a Gypsy?”

“Half Gypsy, or so you’ve claimed.”

She waved that aside. “I was raised as a Gypsy, not as a Russian. I may not think or do exactly as most Gypsies, but I am still one of them.”

He came over to her and put his arms around her. “We are not having our first fight.”

“We aren’t?”

“No, we aren’t. I forbid it.”

She leaned back to stare into his eyes. “I will make some allowances to accommodate you. You must do the same for me. In such a way we can come to agree on everything in the end. Fair enough?”

“You have a unique way of looking at things that I think I can get quite used to. For right now, shall we agree to raid the kitchen?”

“If that is what it takes to obtain some breakfast, certainly.” She waved her arm toward the door with a flourish and a bow. “After you—Lord Englishman.”