A Forbidden Love (6 page)

“I ran away,” she continued with the harrowing tale. “Both men have been chasing me ever since.”

“For how long?”

“It’s been two days now. I stopped to wash in the stream, thinking I’d finally outrun them. But I was wrong.”

His attentive green eyes grew thoughtful. Stolen locket indeed! In the end, the supposed crime his gypsy had committed was to deflect the unwanted advances of two pompous jackasses. Anthony had expected as much. With such savage fire in their eyes, the assailants were obsessed with something greatly personal, such as seeking “justice” for their battered prides. And he had no doubt their form of justice would have ended in the gypsy’s ravishment.

His features darkened on that morbid note. “I’ll see you safely home once you’re well enough to travel.”

She eyed him curiously. “Why?”

“Because you are under my protection.”

Anthony rose and headed over to the writing desk to retrieve the matches. The sun had made its way into the underworld, leaving the sky in a limbo of twilight. The dwindling fire did not provide the room with enough light, so he lit the candle on the nightstand, a soft glow enveloping the immediate area.

The locket glinted under the luminescence, capturing his attention as it had earlier that day in the woods. He’d removed the adornment when he’d first brought his gypsy into the chamber, not wanting the chain to get tangled around her neck. He reached for the ornament now, fingering it with his thumb.

It was a simple oval, he observed, well crafted and somewhat larger than a traditional locket, but not overtly unusual. Dangling on a thin gold chain, the locket was plain, with only a small insignia of a lion’s head carved into the center face.

He set the necklace back on the nightstand and looked down to find his gypsy watching him closely.

“Now that you’ve confessed your troubles, will you give me the honor of your name?”

A mist of indecision passed over her eyes, as though she’d already disclosed too much, and this one last detail was exceeding her confessional limits for the night. But, at last, as he’d hoped she would, she relented.

“My name is Sabrina Kallos.”

Chapter 5

S
abrina detected his smile under the faint flicker of candle flame. She didn’t understand why the smile had such an effect on her, why it had the ability to soothe her angst. Considering who Anthony was and where he had brought her, she should be more alert, more cautious as to when she allowed her guard to fall. But right then, with a throbbing headache and a somewhat drowsy temperament, a friendly smile was all it took to quiet her jitters.

Anthony treaded softly to the other side of the room and collected one of the armchairs. He positioned the seat next to the bed and sat down.

“For a gypsy, you have a very interesting name,” he said.

“I was named after the river Sabrina.”

“In Wales?”

“Yes, it’s where I was born.”

He nodded. “I was named after my grandfather.”

“Do you have a large family?”

“It’s steadily growing,” he admitted with another grin. “Ashley and I are twins. She married some years ago and now has two children of her own. We have a younger sister, Cecilia, who is about to embark on the marriage market. That’s what the ‘bustle below’ you heard Ashley mention earlier was all about. The house is gripped in the throes of preparation for a ball, introducing my youngest sister to the rest of society.”

“When?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

Her heart thumped faster. She quickly skimmed through the many catastrophes awaiting her on the day of the celebration, should she still find herself laid up in the viscount’s bedchamber. Foremost on her mind was being discovered by one of the hundreds of guests no doubt scheduled to attend. She was no fool when it came to such grand spectacles, having often heard the tale of her cousin Gulseren’s vicious treatment by the nobility.

It was last spring when her cousin had traveled through the countryside, offering her fortune-telling skills to the ladies of the more prestigious homes. Gulseren had unfortunately happened upon a stately dwelling the morning of a similar festivity, and was promptly run off the estate by the vengeful hostess, who summoned stablehand and footman alike to see the “filthy gypsy” off her land.

Sabrina shuddered at the prospect of a similar fate. “I have to leave before the ball begins.”

His voice was authoritative. “You’ll do no such thing. Don’t fret,” he added in a reassuring tone. “You’re safe in here. The servants won’t trouble you the day of the ball with so many guests to attend. Besides, the door will be locked.”

The way in which he spoke, one would think it was an absolute truth she would be left in peace, but she had far too much experience with the mistreatment of gypsies to blindly accept his claim.

“No harm will come to you,” he said, disturbing her wary thoughts. “Trust me.”

Trust him?
She didn’t even know him. He wasn’t even part of her blood. The man had no real obligation toward her. He would never stand by to protect her from a throng of angry bluebloods—his fellow bluebloods. He’d set a compress over her head and feed her and perhaps even escort her home, but beyond that, he would not side with her against his own kind.

His warm hand clamped down over hers, her heart missing a beat when he gently applied the pressure.

“Trust me,” he said again, gruffly, more forcefully than before. His eyes narrowed intensely, the dance of candlelight reflecting in the deep green pools.

It was like a shock to her system, her response to such a simple gesture, and she didn’t understand why she was reacting so oddly. The flips of her belly, the hammering of her heart? She must be hungry.

The knock on the door diverted Sabrina’s attention, and her muddled gaze immediately sharpened on the entrance.

Anthony unlocked the barrier, allowing Ashley to slip inside.

“It’s almost seven,” she said, handing the server over to her brother. “Will you be joining the family for dinner?”

“I think not.”

Ashley wrung her fingers. “What if Mama suspects you’re ill and comes looking for you?”

Sabrina stiffened at the dreaded possibility.

“Simply assure Mother I’m in perfect health. Tell her I’m…immersed in a matter of business, that’s it. I’ll dine at a later hour—preferably when all have gone to bed.”

Sabrina relaxed her braiding muscles.

“Very well,” sighed Ashley. “I’ll make your excuses. But, please, don’t stalk down the corridors at night. I’ll deliver your meal after dinner.” Then, muttering as she turned to leave the room, “What will Daniel think when he sees me sneaking off with a tray of food?”

“Just don’t let your husband see you,” was her brother’s sage advice.

Another sigh and Ashley was out the door, Anthony drawing the bolt behind her as he balanced the tray on one knee.

At the aromatic whiff of still piping-hot soup, the pains in her belly made Sabrina acutely aware of the fact that she was famished.

Anthony settled back into the armchair, the tray in his lap. “Are you hungry?”

“A little,” she admitted, though her stomach almost reeled up to interject “a lot.”

He took the spoon and dipped it into the bowl, sliding the utensil’s underbelly along the porcelain rim to dispense with any dripping.

She crinkled her brow. “What are you doing?”

“Feeding you. I’m not blind to the look of pain on your face whenever you try to sit up. It’s best this way.”

She protested the feeding, claiming she was no helpless babe, but seeing as the spoon was already hovering near her mouth, and the strong scent of pheasant was ever so scrumptious, she merely surrendered with a sigh of annoyance and pried her lips apart. Her eyes closed, she savored the rich flavor. The soup tasted even better than she’d imagined.

And so the feeding went on for a while, with Anthony occasionally dabbing at her chin with a kerchief when a few drops strayed. And as the bowl’s belly grew empty and hers grew full, he broke the lull in the conversation.

“You know, your English is very good.”

She eyed him briefly before taking in another spoonful. “It was easy to learn. I’ve lived near
gajos
my whole life, trading with them, telling fortunes.”

“I see.” He brought another portion to her lips. “Since you’re being so forthcoming, may I ask why you suggested apple cider in the saline wash? It puzzles me.”

She swallowed. “Apple cider works better in a compress.”

A blond brow arched. “Then you are a healer?”

“It is my destiny.”

“And why do you think that?”

“Because I was marked at birth.” When his brows stitched together in confusion, she elaborated, “I have a mark on my shoulder in the shape of a crescent moon. The council of elders always believed I was intended for some great purpose, and then, five years ago, when I cured my father of sickness, the council agreed it was my talent, that I should be trained as a future healer.”

He nodded. “Then I must ask Ashley to scrounge up some apple cider.” He set the tray aside and rinsed the linen in the saline wash before spreading the moist cloth back over her forehead. “Until tomorrow, though, this compress will have to suffice. Now try and get some sleep.”

“And…ah…where will you be sleeping?”

“Over there.” He indicated with a nod toward the hearth, where the plush, cinnamon-brown sofa was positioned. “Goodnight, Sabrina.”

He rose to his feet, tray in hand.

She hoped it really would be a good night; she certainly longed for it. And on that wishful thought, she promptly gave way to the dreams already looming in her mind.

Chapter 6

A
nthony slumped a shoulder against the bedpost, his eyes tightly fixed on a still sleeping Sabrina. She appeared blissfully content, her slumbering features tranquil, her breathing deep and steady. Quite a contrast from the outbursts that had plagued her the night before.

Over the course of the evening, she’d muttered, cursed, prattled in some foreign language, and even wept. It had been the sound of her sobs that had finally prompted him to disturb her rest, but she’d soon drifted back into the realm of illusions, the dark images following suit, allowing her little, if any, peace.

In truth, his own sleep hadn’t fared much better. For much of the night, he did little else than refresh the compress over her brow and listen to her incoherent ramblings, finding it bloody maddening that her assailants still pursued her in her dreams and he had no way of saving her this time. It wasn’t until dawn broke that her nightmares had come to an end and she’d quieted, her remaining repose without further incident.

His gaze skipped over her to glance at the time. It was nearing ten o’clock. Breakfast was now being served below, and he was again conspicuously absent, though Ashley had assured him, when she’d come to deliver the morning meal, that she would tend to any concerns regarding his missing presence.

His sister might fuss too much—about everything—but he was greatly obliged to her for all her assistance. He could not have concealed Sabrina thus far without Ashley’s help, and as soon as he was able to, he would demonstrate his gratitude by convincing her husband to take her on that trip to Paris she’d been longing for. Ashley certainly deserved the recuperation. And, with any luck, a holiday on the mainland might lessen her harried disposition and bring
him
some brotherly peace as well.

With recuperation still on his mind, his thoughtful gaze returned to Sabrina, and he debated internally over whether or not he should wake her. She needed her rest after a grueling evening overwhelmed with nightmares, but she also needed her strength, and he felt it best that she eat while the tea, eggs, and ham were still warm.

Having determined to rouse her, he pushed away from the bedpost. So as not to startle her by looming like some imposing titan, he dropped to one knee and gently nudged her arm.

It was a few more shakes before those midnight-black lashes fluttered, and dried lips parted to murmur unintelligibly. She burrowed her fists into her eyes and yawned. Sluggish lids half concealed those beautiful blue eyes that now pinned on him.

He smiled. “Good morning. How do you feel?”

“A little better,” was her drowsy reply. “But my head still hurts.”

“You need more time to recover.” He removed the compress and dropped it into the saline wash to saturate. “Breakfast is waiting.”

She sniffed, the air filled with the scent of freshly cooked fare. “I have to get up first.”

“Why?”

“I had a bowl of soup for supper last night. Why do you think?”

His eyes rounded in comprehension. “Yes, of course, I should have anticipated…Do you need assistance? I can summon Ashley if—”

“I need my clothes,” she cut in before he rambled on any further. “I can do this on my own.”

“Let me fetch your chemise.”

Anthony swiftly collected her undergarment from the privy. He should have considered such sensitivities, he rebuked himself. Why hadn’t Ashley reminded him? But with so much hectic energy already coursing through the household, certain details in Sabrina’s recovery were bound to be overlooked.