Once he was sure he was presentable, the Marquis stepped out of the carriage to see what the problem was. A moment later he was seized by two large, rugged men armed to the teeth with knives and guns, pulled to the side as two more dragged Satine out.

"Gypsies," Harun grumbled, secured by two of the largest men of the pack. "Filthy bandits…"

"Now, now," came a voice to their right. Approaching was a man who looked to be the leader of the mob. He was a man of average height, just a tad shorter than the Marquis, with a trim goatee on his chin and long, dulling amber hair that gained an almost violet hue in the shade. He had weaved all sorts of interesting trinkets in his hair and several earrings along the entire shell of his ears. His freckled skin denoted a life of experience wandering the roads, exposed to the unforgiving sun, though his emerald eyes were as sharp as ever. Smoking a long, narrow pipe, he casually strolled to the captive trio and cast them a charming smile, though it lost its charm as he snatched Satine's coin-purse from her trembling hand. "We're merely taking donations from generous passer-bys to feed our starving families."

De Sade scoffed. "Did it ever occur to you that the people you rob might be starving as well?"

"You know, it didn't," the man replied with a smirk. "Ah well—you can't save them all! You can only be responsible for yourself, eh?"

"Indeed," he grumbled.

Satine began struggling again as the gypsies began to search their belongings, rifling through her painting supplies. "No, please! They're just paintings!"

He quickly nudged her before she could give away their value and further incite the bandits. However, when they began going through his paper and quills, he snapped. "Get your filthy hands off those! Those are my life!"

"We got a writer on our 'ands!" one gypsy exclaimed, holding the papers above his head as he rushed them to the leader. "Wha's it say, Lief? Wha's it say?"

The man read it over, puffing offhandedly at his pipe. Slowly his expression changed from impassive to one of shock. He almost dropped the pages as his head snapped up. "You're the Marquis de Sade?!"

Slowly Donatien found himself smiling, tilting his head up with pride.

Satine was less pleased, however, and nudged him anxiously. "Donatien, for god's sake, put your head down!" she whispered harshly.

"I thought you up and died in a mental institution!" Lief continued, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can't believe my luck!" Just as they were beginning to fear that they would be sent back to France for the reward money, the gypsy pulled a copy of Justine from his inner coat pocket. "I'm a devoted reader of yours!"

The trio sighed in relief as they were released, the Marquis unable to hide his smile. "Always a pleasure to meet a fan," he chuckled, shaking the gypsy's offered hand.

"What brings you to merry old England?" the man asked curiously before ordering his men to return all the travelers' belongings.

"This little minx here," he answered, wrapping his arm around the woman's shoulders. "Secreted me out of the madhouse and away from the grasping hands of Napoleon's police. Now all that's left is to find a home where we can practice our art in peace, without censure."

"I know just the place," Lief said with an eager grin. "But first, join us! Allow us to show you the real England!"

He exchanged glances with Satine, making sure she was alright with it before he gave in to his ego and agreed. "We would be honored!" he announced, causing a cheer to erupt from the crowd.

The gypsies escorted them on foot to a glen miles down the path, sharing stores with the "Frenchies", as they fondly referred to them, along the way. By the time they arrived at the gypsies' camp, it was nearing evening—not that they noticed; the scenery was so beautiful, they could've walked for hours more! The wagons were neatly nestled within a small clearing amidst the forest, fires already crackling as the women set about cooking a feast for the entire clan, the children playing with the dogs as their grandparents shouted at them from the tents. They ate, drank, sang folksongs, and shared stories—including the Marquis's newest book—all well into the night. Soon few were awake but de Sade, Satine, and Lief.

"My clan has wandered these forests for years," the gypsy explained, gazing up at the stars from his spot seated on the ground in front of the fire, his back against a log, as he exhaled a puff of smoke. "We know every tree, every hill, every star. But now…" he sighed, "it simply isn't enough. I really don't enjoy pick-pocketing hapless travelers, you know," he chuckled. Slowly his laugh faded, however, replaced by a heavy sigh. "I'm thinking of settling down, building the tribe a farm, giving them a more stable income… Be a more responsible clan leader, right?"

Donatien nodded, honestly sympathetic for the gypsy leader. He sat similarly on the ground, back against a cushion the nomads had been kind enough to supply the weary aristo, his arm around Satine, who was resting her head on his chest. "Times are hard…" he sighed, "but then, that is my inspiration. The very nature of art is to present the great truths in life, good and bad."

"How true," Lief replied with a wry smirk. "After all, the best folksongs are often about tragedy and misery."

He caught Satine rolling her eyes and scoffed. "What? Can't handle a little existential discussion?"

"No," she sighed in reply, swatting his chest. "I just never pictured you two as the philosophical type."

"You can never judge a book by its cover, my cherub," he smirked, placing a kiss on her forehead. "You of all people should know that."

She giggled, cheeks flushing as memories from the first book of his she had ever read no doubt flooded her mind.

"Rest up, you two," Lief said finally, standing and yawning. "Tomorrow we'll show you to the house." He then turned and departed for his tent.

De Sade helped the weary painter to their own tent, which was a spare the gypsies had been kind enough to set up for them. Harun had already nestled himself in a corner and was fast asleep. He was nearly done helping Satine out of her corseted dress when suddenly a bold hand found his crotch, nearly knocking the wind out of him as a chill ran up his spine.

"Satine, my peach," he gasped, "what are you—?"

"Teach me," she interrupted him, whispering sweetly in his ear, "Like the women in your books; teach me how to bring a man to his knees!"

She tightened her grip around him then, causing him to shudder and gasp out loud.

Harun stirred, making them both jump slightly, but luckily he did not wake.

"Perhaps we should take this somewhere else, yes?" he murmured. He had a feeling Harun would not be pleased if they disturbed the Egyptian's sleep with his grunting and groaning—he was not a quiet man when making love, and never would be.

Taking her hand from his awakening lust, he pulled her from the tent and out into the woods. Satine giggled quietly behind him as they scampered from the gypsy camp like a pair of love-struck teenagers, not stopping until they were far enough away that they would not be heard, but could still see the firelight.

"Lesson one:" he grinned, pulling her against him as he leaned back against a tree, "—worship his body."

Satine returned his smile, sending a thrill through him—to think that he had been the one to have corrupted this innocent beauty so! Every day she exceeded his expectations, finding new ways to surprise him, to make his blood boil and his body ache for hers.

She leaned forward, sealing their lips together as her hands grazed across his body, finding each hollow, memorizing each sensitive spot. Opening his shirt, she trailed kisses down his chest, causing his hands to fly to the sides of her head with a gasp as she fastened her lips around one of his nipples.

Ah, experimentation—how sweet it could be! She was trying out things he had done to her. Smart girl.

She moved to the other one, making sure it was not neglected, and then trekked down further, dipping her tongue into his navel while her fingers played with the dark trail of hair that disappeared down his pants. He gave a loud noise of relief when the fastenings of his britches were undone and his manhood freed.

"Lesson two:" he said between gasps, "—remember what you've learned in your reading."

She looked up at him, flashing him a smirk—all she had read since she had returned to France were his writings. With a small laugh she returned to her explorations, taking him in her hand and getting a feel for him; its weight, size, texture…

At least, that's what he thought she was doing. He could barely think straight as her hot breath washed over him as she drew closer, placing a kiss at the juncture of his left leg and hip, in that sensitive hollow just to the right of his enflamed organ. If he hadn't the willpower, he would've thrown her down right there and taken her hard in punishment for teasing him so. But he was rather enjoying her maiden voyage on the mysterious new frontier that was his body, enjoying the chaste kisses she showered along his entire length, the tiniest lick of her tongue upon the head of his staff.

"And… lesson… five:" he gasped, tangling his fingers in her hair.

"Three, dear," she corrected, looking up at him with a cocky smirk, thrilled that she could bring him to such a state.

"Three:" he acquiesced with a breathy chuckle, managing to look down at her finally, "—let him guide you," he drawled, each word bringing her closer and closer to his most prized appendage.

The moment her lips enveloped him, he let loose a gasping moan so loud he was glad they had fled somewhere more private—by now Harun would no doubt be awake and beating him senseless for his indecency. His head fell back against the tree as he pulled her down his length, his legs trembling. He didn't have to direct her much, however—she had quite a good teacher. Soon he was bucking helplessly into her mouth as she quickly learned exactly what he liked with little encouragement from him and brought him to the edge of bliss, arching his back against the tree with a ragged groan as he erupted within her moist cavity.

Satine nursed him back from the brink, sliding back up his body to nibble at his jaw, positively beaming with pride. He pulled her lips to his, chuckling between kisses at her new-found confidence. "Not bad for a novice," he teased, delighting in her playful, outraged gasp. "Shall I reward you?"

He did not wait for her answer. Instead he spun her about, pinning her against the tree as he dropped to his knees. Pushing up her skirts and slinging her left leg over his shoulder, he leapt head-first into reciprocating, bringing her to orgasm in a few mere minutes. Granted, he had it a bit easier—she had grown excited while pleasuring him. Still, he couldn't help but take some pride in bringing her to completion so quickly.

Rising to brush his lips against hers, their grins met in what even he had to admit was quite the romantic display. They stood there for what seemed like hours, in the middle of the woods woods, forehead to forehead, before they finally tiptoed back to the camp.

As they reentered the camp, he noticed a man out of the corner of his eye. He was standing right on the outskirts of camp, watching them intently. "Mine," he mouthed silently, shooting the man a warning glare as he wrapped his arm around Satine's shoulders and guided her to the tent.

They slept soundly that night, spooned against each other, never once waking Harun.