“She is a woman, and needs to be treated with decency. It makes no difference if she is a gypsy.” The earl’s eyes sparked with warning, his voice sharpened.
He reached forward and examined her arms. His fingers brushed against her bruised skin. “I am sorry about my overzealous men. Their allegiance to me is no excuse to hurt you. ’Twill not happen again.”
All lies.
A slow burn tempered her outrage. She disguised it and gave him a cool nod, framed in steel. “Where is Yolanda?”
“If you ask for Yolanda, then you are Valentina.” Satisfaction showed on the earl’s face. “I could tell you were the one. Your eyes glow like polished emeralds.” His startling smoky gaze studied her, veiled yet challenging. “Although you have changed.”
She jerked her gaze away. “How do you know me?”
“I have seen you before. Several years ago.” He doffed his cloak and placed the heavy garment on a chair beside her.
She surveyed his wealth of black hair, his bold, rugged face, his self-commanding presence. “My caravan roams the outskirts of countless villages throughout England, but I do not remember you.”
“You will,” he said.
“I want to see my sister.”
“Soon.”
Loved it. Tell us more.
I'll just bet she'll remember him!
Thank you, ladies!