A Forbidden Love Read Online Free PDF

bedchamber.”
    He had a soothing voice that broke through her mind’s governing chaos, but his choice of words brought her even more unease. A fretful notion came to her, that she would be swallowed up by the manor’s walls and imprisoned eternally for daring to enter the sacred confines, even if it wasn’t of her own accord. Unless otherwise invited by the lady of the house to give a palm or tarot card reading, she would never have ventured into such a home. And if anyone were to find her here, uninvited, she’d be tossed directly into the jail. Was this not taking the chains from her feet and placing them on her wrists instead? She may have eluded her attackers for the time being, but she now had to flee from the house before anyone else grew privy to her whereabouts.
    Her eyes grew anxious. “I can’t stay here,” she asserted, momentarily overlooking the fact that she could barely move. “I have to leave.”
    “With your head wound? Impossible. But you are safe here.”
    So he kept insisting. But the thwack to her head hadn’t left her witless. How could she trust a gajo …a stranger not of gypsy blood? For all she knew, it was Anthony who had struck her.
    Sabrina slowly reached for her head. Somewhere beneath the layers of bandages was a tremendous lump, the culprit of her miserable headache. “What happened to me?”
    “You were attacked and struck your head on a rock.”
    She didn’t remember any of the assault, only the events leading up to it, so she had little other choice but to accept his version of events—for now. Truthfully, so little of it made any sense to her. “Why am I here?”
    “I am bound to tend to your injury.”
    “You don’t know who I am.” Sniffing, she brushed away the last remnants of her tears. “A man like you doesn’t bother with a woman like me.”
    “And who are you?”
    Better she confess to him now and be done with it. To offset the inevitable wouldn’t do her any good.
    Her voice dwindled to a bitter whisper. “A gypsy.”
    “Yes, I already know that. I meant your name.”
    But she ignored his last statement to demand, “You already know?”
    He nodded. “And by the way,” he said softly, “a true gentleman comes to the aid of any woman in distress.”
    Doubt rekindled. Blinking up at him, her sea-blue eyes swept over him in a thorough assessment. Anthony stood with his hands behind his back and one leg bent casually at the knee. His attire consisted of a white linen shirt, the cravat spilling over the top buttons of his butter-yellow waistcoat, and it was then she realized just how broad-chested he really was, for even without the padded coat he’d worn in the woods, his shoulders spanned a good yard or so in width. Long, wiry legs were draped in tight brown breeches and tucked into knee-high, black leather boots. He was certainly formidable, towering above her like that. And the distrust in her eyes must have been evident, for he slowly lowered himself to one knee, the shadows fading the closer he came, and smiled.
    He had a friendly smile. One that helped lessen some of those formidable attributes. Certainly one she rarely, if ever, saw from a gajo . Most outsiders never bothered to look at her with anything other than disdain, but his kind expression seemed sincere. Or perhaps it was the head injury making her see such things. Benevolent bluebloods did not go about the woods aiding gypsies in distress, no matter what Anthony claimed. And yet, his simple gesture of affection was enough to bring some comfort to her tormented soul. To find solace in another being, even one not a gypsy, who offered her compassion rather than brutality, helped to lessen the burden on her heart.
    The smile also softened his features. His eyes were attentive, tranquil. No hatred burned beneath the dark green pools. Wavy, tawny-gold hair tapered evenly to his collar, a stray curl dangling over his brow. He was handsome—for a gajo . And he was big. She suddenly understood his