For Love of a Gypsy Lass Read Online Free Page B
Author: Juliet Chastain
asked.
“I—I don’t know what to do,” she stuttered, suddenly agitated.
“If you go to him, everyone will see you and think the worse of you. They would shun you if you let him touch you. But I can see that you think only of him—and he has found us and come all this way for you. Perhaps there is some way…”
They stood silent, Talaitha’s heart pounding in her ears as the footman, in blue livery, climbed down from his place beside the coachman, opened the door, and pulled down the steps. Then he nodded, perhaps agreeing to an instruction. He replaced the step, closed the door, and climbed back up. The coachman shouted to the horses and the carriage rumbled away.
“Wait… He is leaving! But why, if he followed us all the way to this town, why would he go now?” Delilah cried.
Talaitha shrugged, refusing to show how much this hurt her, and turned away. The fire that had started in her belly with the sight of his carriage turned to ice. Head held high, she walked across the field away from the others, aware that their eyes were following her, aware that they had seen the carriage come and go. She knew they were all wondering why and watching her reaction.
She stumbled over one of the little hills that surrounded the field and down to a stream that ran on the other side of it. No one could see her here. She crouched in the darkness beside the water. From her bodice she pulled one of the lace-edged handkerchiefs and proceeded to soak it with her tears.
***
Harry had had a devil of a time finding out where the Gypsies had gone and then had driven out to Hadley in the dark and much faster than prudence would allow.
As he approached, he saw the campfires and the guitar player on the makeshift stage. Then he made out two figures in the middle of the field—the flirtatious woman, and her, the singer. His heart beat faster at the sight of her, and he felt the heat rise ferociously within him.
Was he moonstruck? He didn’t even know her name, and yet he’d been unable to sleep for wanting to see her again. He’d risked his own life as well as those of his coachman and footman to get here, hurrying over the poor roads, urging the driver to go ever faster even after nightfall, even when the moon hid her dim light behind clouds. They stopped only to change horses. But now he hesitated to get out and join the group of men and women who stood watching the guitar player. And it would be unseemly to go directly to where she stood—and besides, his courage was failing him. He felt like a fool.
Her disinterest—no, her repugnance—had been perfectly clear. He had insulted her, assuming his money and his prestige would make her willing to allow him to seduce her. How could he have behaved so badly to her? How bitterly he regretted it.
She found him repulsive. His friend John had told him that over and over, and he had not listened; he had wanted her, lusted for her too much to be sensible. But it was more than mere lust. He had never felt like this about any woman. It was a kind of madness.
The fire of the passion that had tormented him since he had first heard her sing was starting to become dampened by the cold water of reason. But though the flames were lower now, they still licked at him. There must be something he could do, some way he could show her that he valued her, that he wanted her in every way a man could want a woman, that his life was barren without her. That he would do anything for her.
No, John, was right. He had insulted her past enduring. There was no way she could forgive him.
So he remained in the carriage, and in a low voice he told the footman to tell the coachman to return to Beresford Hall.
Chapter Five
It was midday and Talaitha sat on a blanket by her sister Naomi’s vardo helping feed the children when the carriage with the perfectly matched horses approached. It stopped about hundred yards from the encampment and the Gadjo lord stepped down and walked
“I—I don’t know what to do,” she stuttered, suddenly agitated.
“If you go to him, everyone will see you and think the worse of you. They would shun you if you let him touch you. But I can see that you think only of him—and he has found us and come all this way for you. Perhaps there is some way…”
They stood silent, Talaitha’s heart pounding in her ears as the footman, in blue livery, climbed down from his place beside the coachman, opened the door, and pulled down the steps. Then he nodded, perhaps agreeing to an instruction. He replaced the step, closed the door, and climbed back up. The coachman shouted to the horses and the carriage rumbled away.
“Wait… He is leaving! But why, if he followed us all the way to this town, why would he go now?” Delilah cried.
Talaitha shrugged, refusing to show how much this hurt her, and turned away. The fire that had started in her belly with the sight of his carriage turned to ice. Head held high, she walked across the field away from the others, aware that their eyes were following her, aware that they had seen the carriage come and go. She knew they were all wondering why and watching her reaction.
She stumbled over one of the little hills that surrounded the field and down to a stream that ran on the other side of it. No one could see her here. She crouched in the darkness beside the water. From her bodice she pulled one of the lace-edged handkerchiefs and proceeded to soak it with her tears.
***
Harry had had a devil of a time finding out where the Gypsies had gone and then had driven out to Hadley in the dark and much faster than prudence would allow.
As he approached, he saw the campfires and the guitar player on the makeshift stage. Then he made out two figures in the middle of the field—the flirtatious woman, and her, the singer. His heart beat faster at the sight of her, and he felt the heat rise ferociously within him.
Was he moonstruck? He didn’t even know her name, and yet he’d been unable to sleep for wanting to see her again. He’d risked his own life as well as those of his coachman and footman to get here, hurrying over the poor roads, urging the driver to go ever faster even after nightfall, even when the moon hid her dim light behind clouds. They stopped only to change horses. But now he hesitated to get out and join the group of men and women who stood watching the guitar player. And it would be unseemly to go directly to where she stood—and besides, his courage was failing him. He felt like a fool.
Her disinterest—no, her repugnance—had been perfectly clear. He had insulted her, assuming his money and his prestige would make her willing to allow him to seduce her. How could he have behaved so badly to her? How bitterly he regretted it.
She found him repulsive. His friend John had told him that over and over, and he had not listened; he had wanted her, lusted for her too much to be sensible. But it was more than mere lust. He had never felt like this about any woman. It was a kind of madness.
The fire of the passion that had tormented him since he had first heard her sing was starting to become dampened by the cold water of reason. But though the flames were lower now, they still licked at him. There must be something he could do, some way he could show her that he valued her, that he wanted her in every way a man could want a woman, that his life was barren without her. That he would do anything for her.
No, John, was right. He had insulted her past enduring. There was no way she could forgive him.
So he remained in the carriage, and in a low voice he told the footman to tell the coachman to return to Beresford Hall.
Chapter Five
It was midday and Talaitha sat on a blanket by her sister Naomi’s vardo helping feed the children when the carriage with the perfectly matched horses approached. It stopped about hundred yards from the encampment and the Gadjo lord stepped down and walked
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