Free For the Love of a Gypsy by Madelyn Hill

putting up with her attachment to the love of her life. He’d pick up her hand and kiss her soft skin. ‘Twas my pleasure , was his constant reply. And he meant it, because it was true. If he had any choice, he’d have picked Abigail. She was smart, lively, and could tell a ribald joke better than a sailor.
    Friends? she’d asked just a few days before her death.
    Aye, he’d returned. Forever .
    She waved a hand at him and laughed before a somber look stole over her face. When you find her, I want you to forget about me. You’ve suffered too much. You deserve the love I cannot give you.
    Tears smarted his eyes. He tipped his head up and grinned. Thank you , he said in silent prayer. Thank you for your kindness and understanding .
    She’d approve of Martine, Declan was certain of it. The Gypsy had captivated him from the moment he woke in her caravan, no matter how he tried not to be enticed. His body now thrummed with energy and desire.
    He strode with purpose and a need to be near her.
    “Good morn,” he greeted. His voice sounded rusty, rough from the memories and his determination.
    Her gaze darkened and she quickly glanced toward the camp. After a moment, she said, “You’re exploring.”
    He relaxed and grinned at her. “Aye, as lovely as your wagon is, I was going mad.”
    Declan’s gaze roamed over her hungrily. Every soft curve beckoned exploration.
    She nodded toward him, her watchful gaze distrusting, obviously unnerved by his regard. He immediately masked his desire, not wanting her to flee when he finally had the strength to walk about the land—and, bollocks, the strength to admit his attraction to the beautiful woman before him.
    He nodded toward the dogs, obediently flanking her as if waiting for a command. “Grand animals, your dogs.”
    “Aye,” she said so softly that he almost couldn’t hear her.
    He grinned. “You’re right, you do have a way with them.”
    A grin softened her mouth. “Aye.”
    He watched her pace the dogs a bit longer, his body pleased he was moving about, but fatigue was setting in.
    Martine touched his arm, concern furrowing her brow. “We’ll head back.”
    Och, his legs trembled, he was such a weak man. This wee woman was going to help him return to the wagon. “Only if you are done training.” He drew up, straightened his shoulders. He wasn’t going to allow her to see how weak he truly was.
    “Pah, the dogs would train all day if I allowed it.” With a quick grin, she whistled to the animals and they flanked her side in an instant.
    She tipped her chin up at him, the line of her jaw softening as she held out her hand to him. “I know you’re trying to be strong, but I can see the pain in your eyes.”
    He reached up and touched the side of her cheek. ‘Twas silky and warmed by the sun and her exercise with the dogs. Her eyes widened to those of a doe beneath the accurate bow of a hunter. Fear, uncertainty. She stepped back. He stepped forward.
    “You are lovely.”
    A flush rushed up her neck and reddened her cheeks. And all he wanted to do was touch her again.
    An unbearable moment passed before he lifted her chin with his forefinger. Declan leaned down, kissed her bowed mouth softly. Lovely. He pulled back, looked into her ardent gaze and descended into heaven once again. She shifted into him, fit her body against his as if she were made for him. Curve for curve, dip for dip. Her lips—soft, succulent. He continued to enjoy her as a soft moan eased from her.
    He tangled his fingers through the rich strands of her hair, cradled her head as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. His blood rushed. He couldn’t get enough of her.
    Hot, spicy. God, heaven.
    He left her mouth and kissed along her jaw, the silky skin along her neck. Her pulse ratcheted against his lips as a sigh escaped her mouth.
    Her dogs barked. She ripped from him, and her hand flew to her mouth. Panic widened her eyes. “What have I done?” she cried.
    Martine looked to him, then