Free Love at First Sight by Sandra Lee Page A

am indeed convinced that such is the case.”
    Though he did his best to appear nonchalant, Golde detected a bitter undercurrent in his tone. He gave his other foot to Roland just as Alory extricated himself from the covers. Shrieking like a crazed hawk, the bug jumped up and down on the bed.
    “I find, however,” the lord fair shouted, “that my children are in great need of guidance. To my thinking, you are just the person for such a task.”
    He groped behind him until he caught the bug’s leg and jerked it out from under him. Alory screamed his delight at the rough treatment, drawing forth Ronces from the tangled mass of quilting. Together the boys threw themselves at their father’s back, grimy hands clutching at his neck in a bid to topple him.
    Golde shook her head. ’Twas several moments before she trusted herself to reply in a tone that would not convey her horror. “I am ill prepared to care for children. My expertise lies in the healing arts.”
    Having removed both the lord’s boots, Roland hustled to rescue the fine clothing from the bed. Gavarnie encircled both boys, one in each arm, and squeezed. Groaning and gasping mightily, they thrashed about until fear squirted through Golde. Could the man not tell he was hurting his children?
    Then she saw their gleeful, wide-mouthed smiles, and her lip curled. Faith, she would be rich indeed had she the talent for fakery that the little mummers possessed.
    “’Tis only until I can locate a nursemaid here on the isle,” the baron continued over their moans. “What with the king’s tourney at Atherbrook, I have not the time to look for anyone at present. If you would agree to stay ’til the tournament is past, I would reward you handsomely.”
    The boys pounded the lord with their small fists and Golde fidgeted, as if the breath were in fact being crushed from her. Was not coin the reason she’d journeyed to Skyenvic? But ... a nursemaid?
    “If you like,” Sir Gavarnie offered, “you may try your hand at curing my blindness.”
    So captured was she with the little demons’ display of agony, ’twas a moment before the import of his words struck her. Even then, she had to rethread both his statement and tone through her memory before she was certain.
    Nay, she could not refute her first impression. The offhand manner in which he’d made the suggestion might have fooled her were it not for the quiet edge of desperation in his voice. The baron yearned to see again.
    ’Twas not difficult to imagine her dismay were she blind and dependent upon the whims of others for . . .
    Nay, and nay. She would
not
feel empathy for the baron. Still, her feet would not obey her command to walk away.
    She studied the squirming children. The little brutes should be locked away until they matured. They were worse than two evil sprites on the prowl for human marrow. And their sister, Nicolette, was no better. A cat would have been more amenable to the fever-cooling bathwater last night.
    Golde’s gaze shifted to Gavarnie’s dark, distant-looking eyes. What had caused him to lose his sight?
    Though the world was full of people blinded by ill humors, the lord could not be included among them. Vision slipped slowly from victims of such maladies, and their eyes dripped thickly and grew callused with a milk- colored film. Delamaure’s eyes were clear as the star- glistened heavens on a moonless night.
    Her brow furrowed. A blow to the head, then?
    Mayhap he had foolishly gazed upon a glomung sun. Though ’twas well known that doing so caused blindness, there were e’re vain glorious coxcombs who challenged the sun’s power during its ecliptic daytime darkening.
    But her bones told her Sir Gavarnie was not such a man.
    “Well?” the baron prodded. “What say you?”
    The boys were eyeing her with speculation. Doubtless, both were fomenting nefarious plots with which to entertain themselves at her expense. She shook her head until she realized the baron could not see her.