Free Through Gypsy Eyes by Killarney Sheffield

along with a flaky croissant and a pat of creamy butter. Then she heard it, a soft sound most wouldn’t have noticed: the scarcely detectable “shush” of material upon material, as if someone crossed their legs. Delilah spun around, dropping the lid with a metallic clang. The light scent of mint reached her.
    “I did not hear you enter, my lord.” She tried to keep her tone light but couldn’t help the slight hint of outrage at his presence.
    “I did not mean to startle you. I was reading the morning paper here all along.” As if to prove his claim, the newspaper crinkled.
    Snatching her plate from the side board she angled toward her chair, counting the steps to the edge of the table. She set the plate down, grimacing when its clink betrayed her mood. “Good manners dictate one would give notice they were here upon my entry.”
    A soft chuckle escaped him. “I thought you would have heard my presence. Besides, I enjoy watching how you take pleasure in the simplest sounds, smells, and textures of the world around you.”
    “I am glad to know my antics amuse you, my lord.” Snubbing him, she sat and speared a piece of ham, popping it into her mouth and chewing with exaggerated attention. It appeared her attempt to avoid the earl was foiled for the time being, a fact that did not please her in the least. She jabbed another piece of ham on her fork and lifted it to her lips.
    “I thought last night’s dinner party went rather well, do you think?”
    She frowned, dropping the fork with a clatter, her tidbit forgotten. “Rather well? I have never been more uncomfortable in my life. I will never forgive you for so callously putting me on display, like a pathetic, lame broodmare paraded about for inspection. Did I not tell you how it would go?”
    “You cannot expect a man to offer for you when you sabotage yourself,” he pointed out with a haughty air.
    She clutched the lace tablecloth in her fist. “I do not
expect
or want any man to offer for me, as I have already told you. Is it so obscene to you?”
    “It is not obscene to expect someone to desire you. You are smart, witty, beautiful, and remarkably self-sufficient. You seem the only one who thinks an offer is impossible. Makes me wonder if you use your blindness as an excuse not to marry.” The harsh edge in his voice softened. “Are you afraid you might find someone who will love you?”
    His words held an element of truth she was reluctant to admit to anyone, least of all him. “Why can you not leave me be?” she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Why must you persist in this? No good can come of it.”
    When his chair scraped across the floor she swiped the tear away, steeling herself for his denials and pleas. Instead his footfalls came around the table, his minty smell filling her nostrils. His warm, calloused hand enclosed hers where it rested, still squeezing the table cloth between her fingers. She jumped when his finger stroked her cheek with gentle intimacy.
    “If only I could show you what I see. You are a woman like no other, proud, strong, and so deserving of a man who will cherish and make you happy.”
    Delilah was woefully tempted to fall into his arms and allow him to kiss her again. Her tongue slipped out to moisten her lower lip of its own accord and his finger followed its path. Struggling to find her voice she whispered, “Show me … ” Tilting her face to him she waited, her heart pounding against her breast. Her eyes closed and for the tiniest moment she almost laughed at the irony of the lashes lying against her cheeks. Why close her eyes when she couldn’t see? Then his breath tickled her lips. Damp and warm, they moved over hers, sensual and light. With a sigh of longing she opened for him, inviting him to play. He took her invitation with the slightest of groans, deepening his kiss. The thrill of the forbidden contact made her toes curl inside her satin slippers. His fingers slipped down to cup her jaw. With a