Through Gypsy Eyes Read Free

trail dust much like a siren’s song. Pushing through the surrounding brush as quietly as possible, he hoped to catch a glimpse of some tasty prey to take with him to the manor. A fresh kill might have appeased the stir his predawn arrival would cause. He had not expected to find a feminine shape floating atop the water just beyond the waterfall’s cascade.
    What was a woman doing bathing alone in a forested pool in the middle of the night? Perhaps awaiting someone, involved in some kind of forbidden lover’s tryst? He recalled the waver in her voice when she called out to the pony on the bank. No doubt his presence frightened the lady, which he did regret. He chuckled.
Lady?
No lady he ever met would dare swim naked in a pool in the middle of the night. She was like as not a humble maid from the manor, affecting pretty speech for his benefit.
    He drew a deep breath, remembering her subtle fragrance of honey melded with a tangy citrus overtone. The corners of his lips twitched into a ready grin. Her courage, slapping the water to splash him, both flabbergasted and intrigued him. No woman he knew would hold her ground in such a defiant manner. Despite her show of bravery though, her rapid breathing beneath his hands proved her nervousness.
Without question she is a very intriguing wood nymph.
    His tongue slipped from between his lips to recall her taste on them.
As sweet as her smell.
No, he couldn’t have interrupted a rendezvous — her gasp of surprise was too pure and innocent to be an experienced seductress. He couldn’t help but chuckle. In the minimal moonlight he caught a brief flash of her white, rounded derriere before a dark fall of hair concealed it and she faded into the shadows. His manhood throbbed and he tried to ignore it. Even if she was a simple maid, he could have not lowered himself to use force to slake his desire. Besides, it would bode ill for him if he were to misuse one of his new charge’s servants.
    The lights of the little town came in sight and he urged his horse on. The tavern was easy to find, for at this late hour it was the only building still lit against the dark. After dismounting in front, he tethered his horse to the hitching rail and headed inside.
    A rowdy card game occupied the biggest table. The other three contained men either passed out face down or well enough into their cups they soon would be. He crossed to the bar and pulled out a stool to sit. “A pint of your best ale,” he told the stoop-shouldered barkeep.
    Without hesitation the man filled a glass and thrust it across the scarred counter.
    Tyrone flipped him a coin. “Is there any entertainment to be had here?”
    The barkeep tested the coin with his teeth before dropping it in the pouch around his waist. “I only got two girls, and one is taken fer the night.”
    “And the other? What of her?” Tyrone took a sip of the ale, rolling its smooth and rich flavor on his tongue.
    “‘Tis her night off.” The man ran an appraising eye over Tyrone’s well-made clothing. “But, I think she’ll cut ‘er bathin’ short for the likes of you, my lord.”
    Bathing.
Tyrone wondered if perhaps it was the same woman he encountered in the pool but then thought the better of it. No, the woman did not have the body language of a common whore. Still, not convinced, he asked, “Is she petite and dark haired?”
    The barkeep frowned. “No, she’s tall and fair haired, with breasts that’ll make a grown man cry, my lord.”
    The pool was gloomy, but even so he was sure the wood nymph’s breasts were small, though his inability to see more than her shape and the dark cascade of her hair might impede his judgment. The memory of her pert breasts as they brushed his chest made him shift on the stool. Shaking his head to dislodge the image, he picked up his glass and drained the contents before setting it down with a thump. It was assured he would never discover her name or see her again. “Maybe another time.” His desire to