Her Every Pleasure by Gaelen Foley

felt between them was still too fragile, too new. It really was quite strange. Usually, he despised liars, and he knew she had not been honest with him, but somehow she was different. So, he opted for a gentler approach, and gave her a casual smile.
    “What’s it like being a Gypsy?”
    She let out a small laugh and dropped her gaze with a trace of relief passing over her face that she probably did not know she betrayed. “Not very nice, sometimes, when people assume you’ve only come around for the old snatch-and-grab,” she shot back with a pointed smile. “It’s most unpleasant to have false tales circulated about one’s tribe, you know.”
    “Well, maybe you and I can clear up a few of those mistaken notions now,” he suggested.
    “Let’s,” she agreed with a firm but playful nod.
    “Babies,” he said.
    “What about them?”
    “Is it true you Gypsies steal little children if they misbehave for their parents?”
    “Oh, yes,” she averred. “We use them as our slaves.”
    “Horses?” He nodded toward the window through which he had seen the bay gelding first appear. “Is it true that Gypsies steal them?”
    “By the herd.”
    “Silk handkerchiefs?” he queried with a mock frown.
    “Child’s play,” she purred.
    Gabriel laughed, dying to kiss her.
    She took another sip of wine and gave him a coquettish look askance. “Come, Major, I’m sure you don’t like it when Londoners assume you’re some sort of colonial savage, all for having been born in India.”
    “Oh, but I am.”
    “A savage?”
    “Quite. And you’re ruining all my illusions! Surely some of those wonderful tales about Gypsies must be true. At least tell me you all still travel around the countryside selling trinkets and telling fortunes?”
    “Well, yes, that much is true,” she conceded.
    “Finally! So, you can see the future, eh? Do you have a crystal ball?”
    “I don’t need a ball, my friend. I can do better than that.”
    He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Can you read my palm?”
    Holding his avid stare, Sophia reached toward him with a graceful twirl of her fingers and boldly captured his right hand, turning it, palm up, on the table. “Let’s have a look,” she whispered with a mysterious air. “Hmm…yes, I see.”
    Gabriel gazed at her in delighted bewilderment. Sophia lowered her head, but when she traced her fingertip over a curved line across his palm, he quivered; she looked up through her lashes and met his feverish stare.
    Maybe she did have magical powers, he thought, heart pounding, for no woman had ever conjured such a storm of want in him. He would have loved to introduce her to some of India’s more exotic arts.
    She bit her lip, dropping her gaze to his callused hand once more. Her touch was warm and light and mesmerizing. He leaned nearer. “Can you divine my destiny, Sophia?” he asked in a husky murmur.
    “I will—try.”
    He was pleased to hear the breathy catch in her voice. Thank God he was not the only one so powerfully affected.
    “What do you see?” he whispered.
    “Long life…”
    “Now I know you are a charlatan,” he teased in a low tone. “Small chance of that.”
    “Long life,” she repeated insistently. “I see…courage…loyalty…strength. But wait—I see danger in your future.”
    “Yes, you still have your knife,” he reminded her dryly.
    She flicked him a chiding look and continued their flirtatious game. “There could be danger ahead for you, I’m afraid, but also much happiness. Your palm says you are destined for great things.”
    “Could you possibly be more specific?”
    Sophia looked at him intently. Her big, brown eyes were deep and soulful, at odds with his sardonic manner of a moment ago.
    “What is it?” Gabriel murmured. Had he offended her with his teasing?
    “Who were the candles for?” she whispered, quite out of nowhere. “I saw you lighting them last night, from the barn.”
    He pulled his hand back in sudden wariness. “Why