Ashley glanced over her shoulder again at the sleeping Gypsy, then looked back at her brother and whispered, “You couldn’t avoid causing a scandal this one time?”
He raised a brow. “Did you expect me to leave her in the woods?”
“Of course not. But the ball is in two days, the house is already in a state of disorder, and if our parents learn a Gypsy is now sleeping in their son’s bed, heads will roll, yours and mine among them.”
“Be easy, Ash. No one is going to lose their head.”
“Why did you bring her here?” she asked in reproof. “Why not take her to the local physician instead?”
“I have a duty to help her recover and keep her assailants at bay”
“But to hide her in your room?”
“Where else was I to put her? The spare rooms are being prepared for the guests who will be travelling a far distance. Besides, I can keep the servants and our family away from her. She’s safe in here with me.”
“Safe?” echoed Ashley. “With you?”
“Certainly.”
“Really, Anthony, do you expect me to believe duty alone brought about this carte-blanch arrangement? That you had no other motive in bringing a beautiful girl to your bed?”
Up went a startled brow. The allure of a fair lady may be his Achilles’ heel, but to suggest he’d machinate this entire rescue just to seduce his vulnerable Gypsy was a blow even to a man as jaded as Anthony. “You think me such a scoundrel?”
“I know you such a scoundrel,” she corrected tersely. “Do you suppose I ignore all the accusations I hear from irate fathers and brothers and husbands and—”
“No need to continue,” he quickly cut in before a tirade ensued. “I get the point, Ash. My reputation is deplorable.”
“Then you understand my distress,” she went on. “There is Cecelia’s happiness to consider, and I intend to make sure her début is a smashing success.”
“It will be a smashing success. Do you honestly think I’d ruin my own sister’s evening by announcing I have a Gypsy in my bed?”
“I don’t know what you intend,” she returned warily.
“Really, Ash, I thought you’d be more supportive of my efforts, always insisting I need more responsibility, and all.”
“Hiding a nude woman in your bed is hardly the kind of responsibility I had in mind.”
Indeed. Anthony knew perfectly well it was the responsibility of a husband his sister was referring to, and to counteract that dampening thought, he turned to a more wicked one, imagining himself nursing his nude Gypsy with sensual caresses. Now there was a responsibility he’d greatly enjoy.
“How are you going to manage as caretaker?” she wondered.
“With your help, of course.”
“Of course,” she said dryly.
“Come now, Ash. Don’t despair. The house is immersed in chaos, remember? No one will suspect anything out of the ordinary.”
Ashley appeared to concede on those grounds, but was quick to point out, “And while we dine below stairs, who will stand watch over the girl?”
“I simply won’t leave my room. A few missed meals won’t generate much attention, not with pandemonium already reigning throughout the house.”
“And on the night of the ball?”
He paused to look over his shoulder at the Gypsy. “Perhaps a few days of rest will restore her strength and heal her injury. She may yet be well enough to leave before the ball begins.”
“And if she is not?”
“I will find a solution to that predicament should it arise.” He glanced back at his troubled twin to underline, “But the girl isn’t leaving until she has fully recovered.”
There was a moment of silence in which Ashley absently aligned the bottles on the desk. “Anthony, if those men labeled her a criminal I don’t see why you dismissed their claim. What evidence do you have of her innocence?”
“What evidence do I have of her guilt?”
“That isn’t sufficient reason to conceal a possible offender.”
“I doubt very much she is the offender. Those men weren’t seeking justice when they attacked an unarmed woman.”
“Perhaps they were.” Ashley looked across the room again. “For a poor Gypsy, she wears a rather well-crafted gold locket.”
Anthony stopped mixing the ingredients and followed his sister’s gaze to the bedside table, where the jewelry she was referring to laid. “Then perhaps the girl is not so very poor after all. I’m not going to assume she has stolen the locket simply because you believe the piece is beyond her means.”
“Why? Because you don’t like to think poorly of a handsome woman?”
“No, because I refuse to believe those men risked life and limb by fighting me for a simple locket.”
Her expression still skeptical, she said, “I do hope you know what you’re doing, Anthony.”
“I always do.” An unladylike snort came his way, and he offered her a reassuring smile before setting the spoon back on the desk. “The salt has dissolved.”
After peeking into the bowl, Ashley took a scrap of linen and soaked it in the saline wash, wringing the excess liquid.
“I have another favor to ask of you,” he began tentatively.
She quirked a questioning golden brow.
“Will you go below to prepare our patient a meal?”
Her shoulders slumped in dismay. “Do you really think you should be alone with the girl?”
“I don’t believe my life is in any peril.”
“I mean, it’s improper for you to be tending to a woman not your wife,” she qualified, somewhat annoyed.
“There is nothing improper about setting a compress over her brow. Now, will you fetch her some food? She’s likely to be famished after all this time.”
Ashley’s gaze darted between the patient and her brother. At last she sighed. “Oh, very well.” Dropping the cloth into the basin, she headed for the door. “I’ll be back soon.” Then, more sternly, “Behave yourself, Anthony.”
He shook his head at his sister’s monition. Honestly, did she expect him to act any other way?
Gathering the bowl, he treaded quietly toward the sleeping nymph. She looked so peaceful, he reflected, taking in even breaths, her eyes closed, the thick fringes of her midnight-black lashes fluttering on occasion.
He placed the tonic on the nightstand, then proceeded to lock the door to prevent any unwelcome visitors from entering the room. Back by his Gypsy’s side, he studied her for a long while. She looked small and vulnerable under the blankets. That wasn’t to say she was petite—she was actually much taller and more firmly built than most of the delicate flowers of the ton—but she seemed fragile in his large bed, her strong spirit subdued by dreams.
And she was stunning. He fixed on the contours of her golden features and found himself admiring the dusty rose tinge on her cheeks, the small rounded tip of her nose, the fine curve of her lips . . .
Steady, old boy, he heard a little voice inside him. Remember your obligation. The girl is under your protection. You can’t be an ass and seduce the defenseless creature.
Rightly so. Where had his mind gone? He wasn’t that great a scoundrel, whatever his twin sister might say. The gentleman within him was stronger than the rogue, he was sure. It was just a bloody tragedy to have a lovely woman in his bed, nude at that, and he could do naught but daydream about her.
His prurient thoughts yielded to the priority at hand. He had to attend to her wound, and though he loathed to disturb her, he needed to unwind the bandage coiled around her head in order to apply the compress. Perhaps, if she was in a deep enough sleep, he could remove the wrapping without rousing her.
Or perhaps not.
She grabbed his wrist, just as he was about to disentangle the knotted dressing.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. Her drowsiness quickly vanished as her deep blue eyes, alert and scrutinizing, pinned on him.
“I must remove the wrapping in order to apply the compress. It will help with the healing.”
Her eyes shifted and narrowed on the basin. “What’s in there?”
“Brandy, vinegar and salt mixed in with water. It will relieve your headache.”
She appeared to study the bowl carefully before remarking, “There should be apple cider mixed with vinegar and water, not salt and brandy.”
“And why is that?”
She offered him no response. Instead: “Where is she?”
“Ashley has gone below to prepare your meal.”
Her gaze was back on him. After a few seconds, she released his wrist and slung her arm over her belly.
“May I remove the wrapping?”
With no outward protest from her, he reached for the bandage a second time. Slowly unfastening the knot near her temple, he nudged the wrapping upward until it slipped over her head.
His fingers brushed her hair, still damp and silky to the touch. The tresses smelt of pine and birch and all the other fragrances of the woods.
Anthony fetched the cloth from the bowl and squeezed it firmly. “This should provide you with some relief.” He smoothed the moist linen so it spanned the entire length of her forehead. “I’ve never heard of apple cider as a cure for a headache,” he said off-handedly, hoping to draw her out of her shyness “Do you know much about healing?”
She remained silent, and he pressed on, imploring, “At least allow me the pleasure of knowing your name.”
Her dubious gaze narrowed on him in further scrutiny.
He kneeled, so their eyes were level, having noted earlier that the position appeared to bring her comfort.
“I can appreciate the distress you must be feeling, but neither I nor Ashley mean you any harm.”
There were a few moments of thoughtful blinking before she broke her silence. “I heard whispering.”
“Ashley and I were discussing your recovery.”
“She doesn’t want me to be here.”
For someone who should have been asleep throughout the conversation, she was certainly perceptive. Unfortunately, she’d reached an uncomfortable—and accurate—conclusion. Ashley definitely did not want the girl in the house, but Anthony decided to downplay his sister’s misgivings, without outright denying their existence. “Ashley is a little apprehensive—”
“Because of who I am.”
“That isn’t true.”
Her features, circumspect in their make, told him she believed otherwise. “Then why are you hiding me in your room?”
“To protect you from your assailants.”
“And from your family.”
How to respond? In the end he tilted his head to the side, a sign of reluctant concession. Why deny the obvious?
He moved the conversation toward a more pressing matter. “What happened in the woods today? Why were those men chasing you?”
“I don’t know.”
“You mean to say, they randomly selected you off the road to accost?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
She reverted to silence. What was the girl hiding? He had never really considered her a thief, as one aggressor had claimed, but if he’d misjudged her, and she was in some sort of legal trouble, he’d still not hand her over to the authorities.
“If you are a criminal, I will still protect—”
“I’m not a criminal!”
“I believe you,” he said sincerely. “So tell me what really happened.”
Her features grew somber. “A few days ago, I was at a horse fair. My father was trading animals with the locals, while I was telling fortunes to the women and children. These gadjos walked by my wagon a few times during the day—”
“Excuse me, but what walked by your wagon?”
“Gadjo, a man not of Gypsy blood.”
“I see. Please continue.”
“I didn’t think very much about them at the time,” she resumed. “One eventually asked me for a card reading, but all the while, he wouldn’t stop staring at me. By the end of the reading I just wanted to get away from him. He grabbed me and said I had nowhere to hide. He then said I was too precious to lose again, as if we’d met before. I knew I was in trouble and a swift kick to the groin brought the gadjo to his knees.”
Anthony cocked a brow. Well, she was spirited, and unabashed in her word choice, he’d give her that. But, then again, he was already acquainted with her energetic spirit, for both his knee and chin still tingled from the blows she’d given him earlier in the day.
“I ran away,” she continued with the harrowing tale. “Both men have been tracking 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.”
He studied her, thoughtful. Stolen locket indeed! In the end, the supposed crime his Gypsy had committed was to refuse the unwanted advances of two swine. Anthony had expected as much. With such savage fire in their eyes, the assailants were obsessed with something personal, such as seeking “justice” for their wounded prides. And he had no doubt their form of justice would have ended in the Gypsy’s ravishment.
His blood burned. “I’ll see you safely home once you’re well enough to travel.”
“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 fire in the hearth did not provide the room with enough illumination, so he lit the candle on the nightstand. A soft glow enveloped the immediate area.
The locket glinted under the luminescence. He had removed the bauble from her neck when he’d first brought her into the room, not wanting the chain to get tangled around her throat. He reached for the necklace now, fingered it with his thumb.
It was an oval locket, somewhat larger than a traditional piece, with an engraving of a lion’s head in the center face.
He set the necklace back on the end table and glanced 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 exceeded her confessional limits for the night. But, as he’d hoped, she relented.
“My name is Sabrina Kallos.”