Samantha James (7 page)

’Twas then that she heard it…the swishing of leaves behind her.

She swung around. “Who’s there?” she called
sharply. Her eyes strained as she sought to see into the deepening gloom.

For long moments there was no answer. An icy fear prickled her spine, and then she heard the sound again. Her heart leaped as a small form approached and took shape…

It was Lucifer.

“Lucifer!” The hound reached her side. Olivia gave a shaky laugh. Bending low she hugged him fiercely around the neck, for until then she hadn’t realized just how frightened she’d been.

Lucifer’s tail bobbed around and around.

She straightened and pointed toward Ravenwood. “Lucifer,” she said sternly, “go home.”

The mongrel wagged his tail and thrust his head beneath her hand. Olivia sighed and tried again.

“Lucifer, go home!”

Four more tries and Olivia was forced to admit the hound had a mind of his own. She renewed her steps and now he trotted along beside her. Curiously, though Lucifer was but a four-legged companion, she felt far less alone. It appeared she’d gained the hound’s approval…but what about his master’s?

Upon arriving at the cottage, she raised a finger toward the hound. “Lucifer, sit!” The hound sat. “Now wait,” she commanded, and hurried inside. When she returned, he was still where she’d left him, his ears pricked forward as he waited. Holding her breath, she offered a small wedge of cheese she held in her palm.

Lucifer wolfed it down, then looked up eagerly. Olivia chuckled. “That’s all, Lucifer. Now you must go home.” She pointed in the direction of Ravenwood. Amazingly, the dog rose and retraced
their steps, loping toward Ravenwood. Not until then did the realization come to her…

He’d sent the hound—Dominic. He’d sent Lucifer to escort her safely home…

An odd feeling knotted her heart. Despite the fact that she’d wounded him anew, Olivia was certain of it—as certain as she was that her heart beat strongly within her breast.

“There are Gypsies camped near the stream
.”

Olivia paused in the midst of setting a steaming kidney pie on the table. She drew a sharp breath, her gaze resting on her sister. “Are you certain?”

Emily nodded. “Someone saw their carts travel through the village this afternoon. And Esther told me as well. They were setting up camp near the bend in the stream, she said.”

Olivia peered closely at her sister. Emily seemed amazingly calm. Could it be that the memory of that horrible day their father had been murdered no longer haunted her?
Please, yes
, she prayed fervently.

Aloud she said, “Perhaps they’re just staying the day and will be gone in the morning.” Though the Gypsy who had murdered their father had not been part of a band, it wasn’t unusual for Gypsies to camp nearby to tell fortunes, mend pots and pans and trade horses. Olivia was not afraid for herself, but the thought that they were near made her generally wary.

“That’s what Esther said.”

“Well,” Olivia said lightly, “let us hope she is right.” She slid a slice of pie onto Emily’s plate.

“Do you think they came because of him?”

There was no question she referred to Dominic. “There are countless bands of Gypsies roaming through England,” Olivia reminded her. “If they’re camped near the stream, that’s a fair distance away from Ravenwood land.” She paused to consider. “I’m only guessing, mind you, but I should think not.”

The sisters lapsed into silence, each seemingly absorbed by their meal. Olivia was about to rise from the table when the window behind her rattled. A shriek rose to a crescendo, then abruptly stilled.

Olivia frowned. “What on earth is that?”

Emily tipped her head to the side. “It’s the wind. There’s a storm on the way. I can smell it.”

For just an instant, Olivia closed her eyes. She listened, her every sense attuned to the sounds around her, as Emily’s were. It came again then, a low moan from without the cottage, a sound that rose and fell, fading to nothingness.

And in the quiet, she thought of him. Dominic. Tonight she’d glimpsed a side of him she’d never expected—oh, it wasn’t that he’d been foxed. He was stern and harsh on the outside, but within was a man who could hurt and bleed the same as any other. As she’d watched him there before the window, she’d been stung by the sensation that here was a man who was lonely…as lonely as the wind outside. Yet Olivia could not lie to herself…there was a part of her that was wary of his Gypsy blood.

The last thing she expected was to be called to his study the next day. Her stomach roiled as she knocked on the door. She’d been too outspoken last
eve—too bold, too brash, and now she was going to lose her position…

He was standing behind the desk when she entered. He was splendidly dressed in a dark gray jacket and pantaloons. Freshly bathed and clean-shaven, his dark hair still wet and sleek, he looked so very handsome he stole the very breath from her lungs.

“You wished to see me, my lord?” Thank heaven, her voice reflected none of her inner turmoil.

“Yes, Miss Sherwood.” He gestured to the chair before the desk. “Please sit down.”

Olivia wet her lips. “I’ll stand, if you don’t mind, sir.” The notion chased through her mind that there was little point in sitting. She’d be on her way in just a few short moments anyway.

Their eyes met; his quickly slid away. Oh, but she’d been right to be nervous!

He cleared his throat. “Please understand, Miss Sherwood, this is a difficult moment for me…for both of us, I suspect.”

Olivia’s heart plummeted.

“But I fear this must be addressed—”

She blinked back the burning rush of tears. She was right. He was going to dismiss her. Dear heaven, how would she and Emily get by? And their rent was due in just a matter of days…

“I must ask you to forgive my behavior last night. While it may appear otherwise to you, I’m usually not so inclined to tip the bottle—”

Olivia stared at him numbly. There was a curious buzzing in her head. This was not what she expected, nay, not at all…

“—and so I offer my apologies.”

She couldn’t say a word. She could only regard him blankly. Had she heard wrong?

“Miss Sherwood?” He frowned. “Did you hear me?”

Stupid, foolish tears stung her eyes. “I heard,” she said at last.

“Miss Sherwood, what the devil is wrong? You look ready to cry.”

Perhaps because she was, she thought shakily. “I’m sorry, my lord—” She sat, because she could no longer stand. “—it’s just that I’m so—so very relieved.”

“Miss Sherwood, your reaction is most perplexing.”

“I know, my lord,” she said quickly. “It’s just that I…I was convinced you intended to send me packing.”

“Why on earth would I do that? Unless you’ve been doing something quite untoward—like stealing the silver.”

She offered a watery smile. “No, no, it’s nothing of the sort. It’s just that I…well, I was quite outspoken when we talked last night…and I thought you might be angry…”

“Thank you, Miss Sherwood.” His expression was grim. “Obviously you think me quite the tyrant. I’m gratified that you continue to hold such an esteemed opinion of my character.”

Olivia was dismayed. She’d offended him again—a feat at which it appeared she was quite accomplished!

“My lord, you mistake my meaning. ’Tis just that I don’t know what I should do if I lost this position. My sister is blind, you see, and I provide our only income.” She prayed she didn’t sound like a hope
less twit. “And about last eve, please rest assured I do not think less of you for…for…” She floundered helplessly. How could she put this delicately? “For being…”

He quirked a brow. “Foxed?” he supplied dryly.

“Precisely,” she said in an embarrassed rush. “We are all of us given to excess now and then.”

“Nonetheless, I hope you’ll keep the contents of our conversation between the two of us.”

She inclined her head, aware of the heat of a blush staining her cheeks. The oddest thing burned through her mind in those seconds.
And just so you know, Miss Sherwood, I
could
be happy with one woman. I simply haven’t found her yet
. He’d been so quietly intent. Why, she could almost swear he meant every word.

“Of course,” she murmured.

He’d taken his chair behind the massive mahogany desk. “There’s another matter I’d like to discuss.” His regard was steady on her face. “You said you’d been well-educated. Are you good with figures?”

“I used to help my father keep the books for the parish.” If she sounded tentative, she couldn’t help it. What was he getting at?

“You’ve knowledge of letter-writing as well, that sort of thing?”

“I also helped my father with such things.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Then I wonder if you might be interested in taking on some additional duties. I need someone to keep track of the household accounts, update my business ledgers and write the occasional letter. I expect it would take several evenings a week.” He named a wage that was more than generous.

Olivia sucked in a breath. The occasional letter. A vague nagging suspicion returned. She was reminded how he’d had her read the letter from his former mistress. Of course she’d heard how he’d run away from school and back to the Gypsies. She did not look down on him, but could it possibly be that he could not read or write? Her mind was off and running. But no matter; certainly she and Emily could use the extra wages.

“’Tis tempting,” she said slowly. “As I mentioned, my sister is blind, and I—I’ve been wanting to take her to London to see a physician there, one who might examine her eyes.”

“Then the additional wage would be helpful.”

“Most certainly,” she admitted. “But frankly, sir, I wouldn’t want Mrs. Templeton to feel that I’m usurping her position, for doesn’t she keep track of the household expenses?” Oddly, Mrs. Templeton’s abrasive nature had lessened somewhat these past few weeks.

He shook his head. A half-smile curled his lips. “You need not worry on that score. Mrs. Templeton has already informed me that the household accounts have never been a part of her duties.”

So. That was why he’d asked her. Olivia was conscious of a vague disappointment, yet why it was so, she couldn’t imagine. Still, a faint smile lifted her lips, for only Mrs. Templeton would have the courage to stand up to him. Olivia was well aware that half the servants were terrified of their new master.

Quickly she made up her mind. “I’d be more than happy to assist you, sir.”

“Good. You may start tomorrow evening if you wish.”

“I shall be here, sir.” Her heart was singing—even if she only worked two evenings a week, her wages would be increased by more than half—and to think she’d been afraid he was going to dismiss her!

She started to rise; his voice stopped her. “One more thing, Miss Sherwood. If it should happen to be dark when you finish, I want you to make use of the carriage.”

“Oh, but I couldn’t do that.” Olivia was adamant.

His eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

“Because ’tis not right that you should show such favoritism toward me. I would feel I’m being accorded a privilege not given to the others.”

Her answer displeased him. She could see it in the tightening of his lips. “I thought we had agreed that your safety was my concern.”

Olivia drew a deep breath and shook her head. “No, sir. You stated it was so, but I did not agree—I do not agree,” she emphasized.

“You walk a very long distance home, Miss Sherwood.”

It appeared he was as stubborn as she. “So does Charlotte, my lord.”

“But not as late as you.”

Her denial was quelled, for it was true. Charlotte usually departed earlier than she.

“Sir, I am well able to take care of myself.”

“You leave me no choice then but to escort you myself. From now on when you finish—”

“Nay!” she cried. “You cannot.”

“Why?” he said baldly.

“You are my employer, sir. ’Twould not be proper.”

“I’m half-Gypsy.” His smile did not quite reach his eyes. “Why would anyone expect me to be proper?” She was startled when he rounded the desk and proceeded to reach for her hand, pulling her up from her chair.

“The matter is not yet settled, Miss Sherwood. But for the moment, let us put it aside.”

There was little point in arguing. “Fine,” she said slowly, “but first I must know…You sent Lucifer after me last evening, didn’t you?”

“He is a hound, Miss Sherwood. He goes where he pleases.”

“And where you tell him.” His mild tone didn’t fool her. But she was startled to discover a faintly teasing gleam in his eyes.

He neither agreed nor disagreed. Instead he retained his grip on her hand. Turning it palm up, he traced the calluses there. Olivia flushed. She strained away slightly, but his grip didn’t lessen. And indeed, his touch was doing strange things to her. Her heart vaulted high into her throat one moment, then fluttered crazily the next. The feeling was strange, something she’d never before felt. She wanted to dislike him, she realized. But she could not…She
did
not. And she could only look on as he raised her fingers to his lips.

“Until tomorrow then, Miss Sherwood.”

Speech was beyond her. Olivia could only nod as at last he released her. She bobbed a quick curtsy and fled as if the devil himself were at her heels.

As for Dominic, he remained where he was long after she’d departed, his gaze on the door through which she’d passed. She was a beauty, though he suspected she knew it not. He had the feeling he’d rattled her, and he suspected she was usually quite
unflappable. But he’d liked seeing her like this—flustered, a bit unsure. Oh, he knew what she thought of him—that he was a rogue. A bounder. His recollection of last night was almost painfully acute. He wondered what she’d have said if she knew that all the while she’d stood here, he admired the way the last embers of light cast golden streamers rippling through her hair. He’d longed to touch it, to feel for himself if it was as soft as it looked. And when she spoke, it was all he could do to tear his gaze from her lips, to not succumb to the masculine urges running rampant through his body. He’d wanted to seize her in his arms, taste her mouth and plumb the depths within with the eager glide of his tongue…

He was abruptly disgusted with himself. Christ, he was acting like a lovesick schoolboy. A fool, that’s what he was, a damned fool. He’d come to Ravenwood for a number of reasons, one of which was to find some peace within himself and with the world.

In truth, he hadn’t known a moment’s peace since the night he’d first laid eyes on her.

His mouth twisted bitterly. She would never want him, never in a thousand years. Despite his trappings of wealth—his title—despite her position in his household, to her he was just a lowly Gypsy.

Oh, yes, he knew. He’d glimpsed it in her eyes a dozen times already. Oh, she’d tried to hide it…

But Dominic knew better, for he’d seen it far too often in his lifetime to know he wasn’t mistaken…It was something she could not forget…

Nor could he.

“Oh, look, we’re near the alehouse!” Esther exclaimed. A hand on Emily’s elbow, she guided the younger woman to a bench. “Just sit tight here in the square for a wee bit, sweetings. I’m just goin’ to dash in the alehouse and share a dram with me ’usband. I’ll be back long before dark.”

Emily stretched out a hand. “But Esther—”

There was no answer. Emily’s hand fell to her lap. Left alone now, she had no choice but to remain where she was.

The minutes dragged. She heard the occasional footsteps of passersby, but no one approached. The sun beat down upon her head, for she’d forgotten her bonnet. Esther hadn’t wanted to return to the cottage for it.

She’d been feeling lonely, with Olivia working so late and all. Olivia had been so excited, filled with plans for visiting London and a physician with the money she’d earn keeping the Gypsy’s books. Emily hadn’t the heart to tell her it would do no good.

She would never regain her sight. Never. She’d resigned herself to a lifetime of blindness months ago.

Still, she felt badly, with Olivia working so hard. She spent her days making lace, hiding it from Olivia before she came home. She’d had it in her mind to try to sell it somehow, to surprise Olivia with the money she could earn. But she knew of no one who would want to buy it—and so, in the end, ’twas just another way to pass the time.