Through Gypsy Eyes Read Online Free PDF Page A

the tiny crow’s feet and indentation of his eyes.
Early to mid-thirties I would say.
Short, spiky lashes stroked her fingers as he blinked. She rose on tiptoe to run her digits through his thick, wavy hair.
Most likely dark brown or black, since blond hair is usually finer and red, curlier.
    Dropping her hands she stepped back with a confident smile. “You are taller than average, well built. I would say dark hair, black maybe, and not unhandsome compared to most. You spend a lot of time outdoors by the feel of your skin, and the crow’s feet by your eyes date you at perhaps two and thirty.” She smiled at his sharp intake of breath.
    “One and thirty, actually.”
    She shrugged. “Close enough.”
    “How did you learn to do that?”
    A giggle escaped her lips at the wonder in his voice before she smothered it, remembering how much she disliked him. “I do not know. It is a skill I acquired at a very young age.”
    “So, you go around feeling people’s faces?”
    “No, not always. I can tell a lot about a person by the way they walk and talk as well.”
    “For instance?” The settee creaked as if he sat.
    She crossed her arms. “I can tell you are used to being obeyed, have no sense of humor, and are sitting on my settee without being asked.”
    The settee creaked again and his voice was closer this time, like he leaned forward. “Perhaps you are playing tricks and are not blind, at least not completely.”
    Delilah snickered. “No such luck, my lord. Being blind is nothing to jest about. I take my … affliction … very seriously.” Air whistled past her face. She scowled. He was not the first to wave his hand back in forth in front of her to see if she would blink. “Now, if your curiosity is satisfied would you mind removing yourself from my music room?” Again the settee creaked. She tilted her head. Did he settle in to stay?
    He cleared his throat. “I came to speak with you about the storeroom and barns.”
    With a sigh she sat. It appeared he was in no hurry to leave her be. “What about them?”
    “They are empty.”
    Empty?
She pondered his words for a moment. “Impossible. Though harvest is not yet finished it has been a good year. Besides, there were plenty of stores left from the previous harvest.”
    Annoyance stiffened his tone. “I assure you, Miss Daysland, I checked each storeroom and barn myself. They are almost empty and there are no animals on the place.”
    As if on cue Delilah detected the light tattoo of hoof beats heralding Jester’s presence on the veranda. She stood, crossed to the French doors, and flung them open. “I beg to differ, my lord. It looks to me as if there is indeed an animal on the place.” The pony entered the room, brushing her skirts as he passed by.
    “Good Lord! What is that?”
    She laughed at his astonishment. “This is Jester, he is my guide and yes, an animal.”
    “You allow the creature free run of the house?”
    The urge to shock him further was too great to resist. “Of course. He
is
housebroken.”
    “Housebroken?”
    Delilah crossed to the piano bench and sat, knowing the pony would follow and stand beside the instrument. “He has been trained to soil outside, not in the house.”
    “Oh.” The earl grunted.
    He grew quiet, something she suspected he very seldom did, and she wondered what he was thinking. Perhaps he thought her noddy? That was better she supposed, then he would be less eager to wed her off to someone and leave her be. “If you will excuse me now, Lord Frostbite, I would like to return to my practice.” She was surprised when his footsteps retreated out the door without him refuting her improper term of address. With a self-satisfied smirk she returned to playing.
    • • •
    Delilah headed outdoors to work in the herb garden after her practice, savoring every last fleeting ray of the sun’s warmth before winter would suck the heat from it. A slight breeze, heavy and rich with the scent of rain, lifted the tentacles