Through Gypsy Eyes

by Killarney Sheffield

  He cringed as the pony nickered. If Perry didn’t silence the animal, their plan would be foiled.

  “Jester?”

  Relief flooded him when the pony remained silent despite her call. The group kept walking across the lawn toward the fringe of forest bordering the estate. As quiet as possible, he made his way back to Kata and signaled for her to follow him back out the gate. As soon as the trio disappeared into the woods he hurried across the lawn to where Perry, Meeko, and Jester still hid.

  “March and a servant have Delilah. They went into the woods at the end of the lawn.”

  Perry groaned and released his grip on the pony’s nostrils. “What do we do now?” The animal took a deep breath and shook his head.

  “We follow them. There is only one reason they would take a walk in the middle of the night.” Tyrone didn’t bother to give the reason torturing his mind, knowing by their silence they reached the same conclusion.

  Single file they made their way to the woods. They came across the path the others took with little difficulty. The wind picked up, covering any noise they made as they followed the party ahead of them. The path turned, joining with a wider one. Even in the dark, Tyrone recognized it as the path to the little waterfall Delilah loved. A few moments later the apparitions ahead disappeared in a rustle of branches. He signaled for the others to hold up and crept forward. On his hands and knees he crawled beneath the boughs. Voices cut through the darkness as the three figures tarried upon the bank above the pool.

  “Tyrone!” Delilah called, her voice pinched with fear.

  The baron said something and laughed.

  “Get in the water,” the second figure growled.

  Tyrone realized the servant holding Delilah was none other than the stable boy he had fired that first day for fornicating on the job. The man shoved Delilah in the water and she screamed. Tyrone leaped into action. With a warlike cry, he sprinted to the water. Rushing the stable boy he knocked him off his feet and together they tumbled into the icy pool. They wrestled each other as they scrambled for footing on the slick bottom. Something bobbed to the surface sputtering and splashing just beyond his elbow. He hoped it was Delilah as he tried to dodge a blow from the stable boy. It glanced off his head. Ears ringing and head pounding, he threw a punch of his own. It connected with enough force to topple the slighter lad backward. The boy went down with a splash. Tyrone held him under for a moment to leave the servant breathless enough to be unable to gain the upper hand.

  Panting and out of breath he yanked the lad to his feet and dragged him to the bank. The boy flopped on the sand gasping and throwing up water as Tyrone turned to find Delilah. The click of a pistol made him freeze and look to the bank.

  “Stop right there, Frost.” The baron braced his feet, his arm around Delilah’s neck, a pistol muzzle to her temple. She shivered as she clutched his arm, water dripping from her sodden hair and nightdress and her teeth chattering loud enough for all to hear. Meeko and Perry stood to one side, their hands in the air.

  “Ghastly timing, Frost. Now I have to find a way to dispose of you and your friends before I can drown my half sister.” The baron sighed as if it were a boring task to be performed.

  Tyrone raised his hands. “How will you make all our deaths look like an accident, March? You will never get away with it.”

  The baron’s brow furrowed. “I admit it will take some doing; however, I shall rise to the challenge.”

  Out of the corner of his eye Tyrone noticed Jester saunter onto the bank behind the baron. Maybe he could use the pony to distract the man and get the gun away. “Perhaps we can make a deal, March.”

  “A deal?” The baron’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of deal?”

  Tyrone glanced at Perry and rolled his eyes toward the pony before he stepped to one side to divert the baron’s attention. With any luck Perry would get his hint and spook the pony into the man, distracting him long enough for Tyrone to make a move for the gun.

  “Stop.” Augustus glanced between him and Perry. “Jeb, get your arse up off the ground and watch that one over there.” He jerked his head in Perry’s direction. “If you try jumping me, Frost, the girl dies.”

  Left with no other choice, Tyrone stepped back toward the group. “Release Delilah and you can have the estate and her inheritance.”

  “Yeah, right.” Augustus shook his head. “How dull-witted do you think I am? As soon as I let go of her I will be floating in the water.”

  “Please, Augustus’, I promise I will give you all of it,” Delilah pleaded, her voice shaking with the force of her fear and the cold. “I beg of you. Let me take Jester and disappear with the gypsies.”

  At the mention of his name the pony’s ears flickered.

  “Stubble it,” Augustus growled tightening his grip on her windpipe.

  Delilah’s strangled cry made the pony pin his ears. Without warning he leaped forward and bit the baron on the arm. Augustus dropped the pistol with a shriek so loud it drowned Delilah’s cry as he released her. Tyrone sprang forward and tackled him, rolling over and over on the bank until Perry helped him pin the baron to the ground. When he looked over his shoulder he saw that Meeko had secured the scrawny stable boy in a headlock.

  Delilah dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around Jester’s neck. Tears streamed down her wind-chapped cheeks as she sobbed.

  Tyrone eased off the baron, who was whining about “the damned beast trying to eat him,” picked up the gun, and handed it to Perry. He crossed to Delilah’s side and knelt beside her on the muddy bank. “Delilah, everything is all right now.” Jester nuzzled him with a soft nicker as he patted the pony’s head. “Good boy, Jester. I owe you a bucket full of apples, my friend.” The pony nodded his head as if in agreement and blew through his nose as a light rain began to fall. Tyrone chuckled and pried Delilah’s frozen fingers from the animal’s tangled mane. “Come on, we need to get you home.”

  Kata appeared at the opposite edge of the pond leading the piebald hitched to her wagon. “My lord, bring my daughter here where it is warm.”

  “My mother is alive?”

  Tyrone touched Delilah’s cheek. “Yes, Delilah, your mother Kata is here. She and her mate Meeko helped us rescue you. Come now, there will be time to explain all when you are warm.”

  Delilah sniffled and allowed him to scoop her up into his arms. She tucked her face against his neck as he carried her, her tears warm compared to the rain. Once she was tucked in a big down quilt on the narrow cot in Kata’s care, Tyrone climbed aboard the vardos and turned the horse to the main road. After securing the baron’s and his servant’s hands behind their backs with pieces of stout rope, Perry and Meeko marched them along behind.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  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?

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  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 t
o 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.