Through Gypsy Eyes (27 page)

Delilah contemplated the woman perched on the edge of her bed, wishing she could see her. Did her mother still look as she remembered as a child? Was her former nursemaid still a great beauty, or did age strip her of all her youthful luster? The light scent of cinnamon surrounding her mother made Delilah think of cozy fall nights and apple pie. There were so many questions she needed to ask. Would Kata be forthcoming with the answers?

“You are wondering how to ask me all you wish to know.”

“How did you know? Do you have special powers, too?”

Kata laughed. “No, my daughter, I do not. It seems safe to believe you would want to know everything we denied you since your birth.”

Taking a deep breath, Delilah asked the question she both dreaded and needed to know most. “Why did you leave me when my mother … my father’s wife died?”

A sorrowful sigh filled the room. “Ah, I am not surprised it is your first question of me, Delilah. I left because I had no other choice. Your father and I continued to share our passion after his wife adopted you. I suppose she knew about it yet was so complete with her joy in you she turned a blind eye to it. Everyone was happy for a time, and then the fever came. It was strange, but the fever attacked only you and her. You were strong and I used every herb and spell I knew to keep the sickness from claiming you. Instead it claimed your eyesight. We took you back to Deagan in hopes he could cure you, but nothing could be done.”

“Then your father’s wife took ill. He begged me to save her. He said it was God’s punishment for our sins. I gave him the same herbs I used for you, but I refused to leave your side to administer them to her. She died within hours. Your father never forgave me, for he still loved her, you see. Once you were well enough he sent me away. He said the way to atone for his sins was to never lay eyes on me or any other gypsy witch again.”

“Are you a witch?”

Kata gave a hollow laugh. “No, my child. I am a simple caregiver.”

“Why did you not take me, too?”

“I could not, for as you know English law gives the sire all rights to a child.”

Doubt fueled Delilah’s mind. “You could have stolen me away. He would have never found me hidden among the gypsies.”

“Yes, but the squire could give you so much more than a vagabond life. He looked after you well and gave you everything you desired, did he not?”

“Yes,” Delilah was forced to admit. “Except I did not have my mother.”

“For that I am sorry. Deagan did the one thing he could to make up for it by gifting you with Jester.”

“Uncle Deagan says Jester was my mate in another life. Do you believe such things?”

“It matters not what I think, child. What do you think?”

Delilah replayed all the times in her mind Jester came to her rescue, seemed to know what she was thinking, protected her, and somehow knew when she was heartsore. Did she believe he was her mate reincarnated? No, she supposed she was too practical for such nonsense, but she couldn’t deny their unusual connection. “No. He and I are tied with a special bond though, one I cannot explain or understand.”

“Then that is all you need to believe in.” A soft hand covered hers where it rested atop the bedcovers.

Delilah sighed. “Am I a squire’s daughter or a gypsy?”

“You are both those things. You cannot deny your heritage or your upbringing. To find your perfect balance you must combine the two and listen to your heart.”

Listen to her heart? Her heart was too sad and wounded to speak to her. She hurt Tyrone to the core with her betrayal. He would never forgive her. She could never forgive herself. Why did love hurt so much? He was going back to London to find himself a suitable bride after the king rewarded him for rescuing her. The king would appoint someone else to see to her estate until a suitable husband could be found, she was sure. How could she combine her two lives when one was now no more than an empty house? “I am a gypsy. I will sell the estate and travel as you do, telling people of their futures, in the crystal ball.”

“Mine is a hard life, Delilah. You are better to stay here where you are warm and protected.”

A tear slipped down Delilah’s cheek and she brushed it away. “Here I am all alone. If you will not approve my coming, then stay here with me.”

Kata patted her hand. “You are not alone, you have Jester. I would not be happy here living as a poor relation. I am a free spirit, a wanderer who calls nowhere and everywhere home. I cannot stay more than a few days. It will be winter soon and I must join up with another gypsy clan before the snow flies.” She wiped a second tear from Delilah’s cheek. “Rest now, my child. If you still want to be a gypsy when I return from London, then I will take you with me.”

The bed shifted and Kata was gone, the door closing with the softest whisper behind her.

Alone. Again.
What was she to do? If Tyrone returned after speaking to the king, would he believe her if she professed her feelings for him? She lied to him once, would he think her deceitful now?

Delilah placed her fingers on the keyboard. Her scared hands changed the feel of the ivory. The cool keys were smoother now somehow. Would she still be able to coax the sweet melodies from the instrument?
There is no time like the present to find out
. She was alone so no one would hear the notes if they were sour. Taking a deep breath she pressed down. The first notes were stilted yet in tune. With bated breath she entered into the first few bars of one of her favorite, simpler pieces. Her fingers fumbled, though she suspected it was more from not having played in a while than the thin layer of scar tissue. The more she played the looser and more sure of the notes her fingers became. A smile of genuine happiness spread across her face as she relaxed and swayed to the music.

She sensed Tyrone’s presence as the last notes died away. “You came back.”

His footsteps crossed the plush carpet with a whisper of sound. “Of course I did.”

Turning from the pianoforte, she tried to glean something of his encounter with the king from his tone but failed. “Has the king seen fit to annul my marriage to Augustus?”

“Yes.” He stopped in front of her, his breath brushing the top of her hair.

Why was he back? Would it not have been easier for him to send a missive advising her of the change in her marital status? She frowned. “Have you come back to finish the task the king assigned you?”

“Yes, I have been sent back to see you wed.”

Anger at his nonchalance made her slide from the bench and face him arms akimbo. “I relieve you of the duty, my lord, for I have decided to go with my mother and learn the gypsy ways.”

“You cannot be serious. Why?”

Did she detect a hint of hurt in his question? “There is nothing for me here. I do not wish to be married off. I am a gypsy and choose to live wild and free like the rest of my clan.”

“Kata has agreed to this?”

She raised her chin with stubborn resolve. “Yes, before you went to see the king.”

His voice was soft. “The king will not be pleased. Is there nothing I can say or do to change your mind?”

There was, but she was not about to lead him into an admission he didn’t make of his own accord. She wouldn’t force him to lie just to soothe both their offended honors. “No.” Saying the word was like slamming a door that could never be opened again.

• • •

Tyrone shoved back his chair and got up to pace the squire’s study for the umpteenth time. The beads of sweat formed along his hairline, trickling down his face and under his limp cravat. Would this infernal heat ever cease? He tugged the limp material from around his neck and tossed it to the desk top.
Unusual weather for this time of year.
By now a morning frost was the norm with temperatures comfortable in wool clothes. Except for a day or two of cooler temperatures, the weather seemed to have reverted to summer conditions. After wiping his brow with his sleeve, he strolled to the window and looked out over the garden.

What would the king say when he informed him Delilah declined marriage to join the gypsies? He still didn’t understand her reasoning. Was marriage so bad she would give up her comfortable life just to avoid it? Perhaps it was him she detested.

A movement in the garden below caught his eye. Was it Jester out for a midnight stroll among the gardener’s prize hollyhocks? A shape formed out of the shadows in a light colored billow of fabric. The material floated around the wearer, lending a supernatural feel to the apparition. He shook his head.
Not again.
Why could the blasted woman not stay put in her room where she was safe? Though there was less danger with the baron and his servant locked in Newgate, the fact remained that wandering the countryside at night was risky whether the wanderer were blind or sighted.

The woods were cooler than the house and he welcomed the slight breeze cooling the sweat on his brow. It was easy to understand why Delilah slipped from the house on such nights and took refuge in the woods. Leaves crunched beneath his feet and he grimaced. Would she detect his pursuit? He paused to listen. The pony’s steady thuds over the dry vegetation was louder than his own tread, and he felt sure enough to continue. Taking a heady breath of damp ground, dry leaves, and overripe apples he smiled. It was easy to experience the world as Delilah did in the darkness surrounding him. Lost in his newfound sensory perception, he was startled to find himself at the narrow thicket bordering the pool. After stepping through it he waited for his eyes to adjust to the moonlight reflecting off the shimmering water. He scanned the pool for her and then swung his inspection to the bank. Delilah crouched there, splashing water over her face and neck.

She froze, head cocked to one side, and then turned to face him. “Why do you insist on following me?”

He grinned, not surprised she heard him. “I would not want anything to happen to the lovely wood nymph who visits this pool.”

Her little snort broadened his grin. “I am no wood nymph, as I have told you before. Why can you not leave me in peace to enjoy my last night of the pool?”

The smile slipped from his lips. “I fail to see why this must be your last night, Delilah.”

“For one so well sighted you fail to see a great many things, Tyrone.”

She turned back to sit cross-legged on the bank, and he was taken by the sight of the moon’s glow on her dark hair. Oh yes, she was indeed a magical creature who wove a spell over him the first night he spied her here. “For one so well tuned to the world around them, I think it is you who fail to see.”

“A coup, my lord, for pointing out the obvious.”

The bitterness in her reply made him bite his lip. She missed his meaning. He sat down beside her, close enough to catch her familiar scent of honey and oranges. “Why are you leaving?”

“You should know the answer,” she snipped.

He grunted. “The king will be most upset, I suspect.”

“I shall send a note to him explaining I ran off to spare you his wrath.”

Was she angry at him or the king? “I am not worried about the king. I am worried about you.”

“You should not be. I have my mother and Jester. Besides, I can look after myself. I did so before you barged into my music room.” She tossed a pebble into the pool. It landed with a plop, the moonlight accenting the ripples melting into the churning spray of the waterfall.

He wanted to shake her, make her see what she was giving up by running away. “Damn your ridiculous pride! Why will you not stay and permit me to see things made right?”

Anger sizzled in her voice. “And let you marry me off to soothe your masculine sense of duty? I suppose I cannot blame you for doing the king’s work when he is dangling a political appointment above your head as an incentive. ”

“No! Delilah, I no longer care about the king’s agenda. I want to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you.” He looked away, afraid he would regret laying his heart out there for her to stomp on and throw back in his face.

She gasped. Silence lingered, broken only by the sound of the falls and the rhythmic slosh of water against the bank.

What was she thinking?

“You want to marry me? After I returned to Augustus and … hurt you?”

He almost laughed at her shocked tone. “Yes, is it so hard for you to fathom?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I love you, Delilah.”

Her response was harsh. “Nay, a match between us would not further your political aspirations. People see me as a pitiful excuse for a woman. You need someone with connections, whom people will respect and admire, someone who enjoys being in the public eye and attending balls and such. I hate crowds. I have nothing to offer.”

Tyrone drew her stiff form into his arms. “You have many things to offer, wood nymph. Every day with you is an adventure, from reading and seeing with your fingertips to the astounding melodies that flow every time you sit at your pianoforte. I have begun to see the world as you do, and I am a better person for it. I love you, Delilah, and I want to explore your world every day for the rest of my life. I do not need a political career to be happy, I see that now. No well-connected milk and water miss could ever make me as happy as you will.”

Her posture softened and she exhaled a deep breath. He reached up with a hand to cradle her jaw and bring her lips to his. The dampness of her tears met his fingertips. His lips covered hers as her arms wound around his neck. Their simple kiss, gentle, caressing, and sweet, brought him so much joy he thought his heart would burst. She pulled back, the act filling him with dread. Was she going to refute his love?

Her fingers traced the plains and peaks of his face.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to see the face of the man who loves me.”

He frowned. “Why? You have seen me before with your fingertips and I have not changed in so short a time.”

A grin formed on her lips that puzzled him. “Ah, but I would like to be able to picture his reaction when I tell him I love him, too.”

She laughed as he hugged her to him. “Will you consent to be my wife?”