Through Gypsy Eyes Read Online Free PDF

of hair escaping her braid from her damp neck. A shower would be just the thing the garden needed after she churned up the sun-baked soil around the few plants remaining. On her knees she searched for each plant with one hand and dug with great care around them with a small trowel. Perhaps tonight she would slip outside during the rain and immerse herself in its refreshing drops. She stabbed the dirt with a ruthless thrust of the trowel.
If Lord Frostbite is not around.
No doubt the starched shirt wouldn’t approve of her escapade. What was the king thinking to send such a man to Westpoint? She was doing just fine on her own. There was no need for someone to watch over her like she was some kind of invalid. With a final jab she buried the trowel to the hilt and sat back on her heels.
Oh Papa, why did you have to leave me? Why did you take the mountain trail on such a stormy night?
    A heavy tread roused her from her contemplation. She swung around.
    “Miss Daysland?”
    The voice was familiar yet she couldn’t place whom it belonged to. “Yes? Who are you and what are you doing in my garden?”
    The man cleared his throat. “So sorry to disturb you. It is Augustus March. I have come to see how you fare these days.”
    Not him again.
Did she not already chase the insolent whelp from her father’s graveside once? “Baron March. I was not aware you would be calling on me today.”
    “I … well that is to say, I was in the vicinity and thought perhaps I should drop by to check on my dear friend’s daughter.” The nervous edge in his voice almost made her laugh.
    “The vicinity? Since we are in the middle of nowhere in particular, I shall have to assume you exaggerate, sir.”
Dear Lord! I better get him out of here before Lord Frostbite shows up and decides the baron is a match for my hand or before the baron himself goes out of his way to convince him of such.
“As you can see I am fine, sir, thank you. Now if you will excuse me, I would like to finish cleaning out the herb beds before it rains.” Picking up the trowel she turned her back on him, resuming her activity.
    The shuffling of his feet warned he was not quite ready to leave. “I was wondering if you, ah, have lent some time to considering my offer?”
    She rolled her eyes and sighed. “You mean your preposterous and insensitive offer of marriage at my father’s graveside, before his coffin was yet covered?”
    He cleared his throat again. “I did say I was dreadfully sorry about that,” he whined, grating on her nerves. “I was simply concerned for your welfare.”
    “Spare me your insincere drivel, March. All you are concerned about is my father’s wealth, now mine by right.”
The cad! How dense does he think I am?
Resisting the urge to turn around she groused, “I am blind, sir, not daft.”
    “See here, you judge me wrong.”
    All the whining in the world couldn’t quite cover the uncanny edge in his voice. Clenching her teeth she jabbed the trowel into the ground. The sudden sharp scent of witch hazel gave evidence she broke off a stalk in her preoccupied state. Her instincts told her he couldn’t be trusted. She rubbed at the back of her neck, where despite the heat the hairs raised in alarm. “You shall not have to fear for my well being any further, sir, for the king himself sent one of his loyal subjects to see to my welfare.”
    “He has?”
    The higher octave of surprise in his inquiry made her smile. “Oh yes, a very well-to-do man. I suppose the king felt it was in my best interests to marry me off quickly, before the riffraff came knocking on my door.” Though she said the words with sweetness she allowed a trace of malice escape to inform him of her sarcasm.
    “Oh.” A hint of anger clipped his reply. “In that case, I should go. All the best to you and your betrothed, Miss Daysland.”
    She stifled her giggle as his footsteps faded away. Guilt pricked her conscience and she brushed its accusations aside.
I did not lie