Christopher went very still. “That is a slanderous remark, wench, that you had better explain this instant. How could you possibly know that?”

She didn’t seem even a little alarmed that she had gained his full ire. “I couldn’t,” she replied simply. “But I could not help but hear a lot about you when I was in Havers today. Because you come here only rarely, when you do come, you are the subject on everyone’s lips. Often was your manager mentioned, and how he has been gulling you ever since you first arrived. For some, the opinion is that it is no more than a lord deserves. For others, they have dealt personally with the man and despise him. Two different motives for saying the same thing usually discounts motive and just speaks the truth. And if it was not true, Lord Englishman, you would have laughed it off. Instead, your anger shows that I merely confirm your own suspicions about the man.”

“Anything else?” he asked tightly.

She grinned at him. “Yes, but I think I have made you angry enough for one night. Would you care to share our meager dinner?”

“I’ve eaten, thank you. And I would prefer to get all of the anger out of the way now, to leave room for—other emotions. So do continue dissecting me.”

She blushed at mention of those “other” emotions, understanding very well what he meant. This took the edge off his anger, reminding him that he was sitting there in a state of need because of her, and had yet to figure out a way to take care of that need.

“You do not like to draw attention to yourself,” she said, “which is why you do not dress foppishly. It’s not because you don’t like foppish, it’s because you know very well how handsome you are, and this already draws more attention than you are comfortable with.”

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. “How the devil do you come by that conclusion?”

“That you know very well how handsome you are? Any mirror would show you that. That you might like to dress more fashionably, but don’t? I see your companions wearing their expensive jewels, their much brighter colors, their patches and wigs, all very stylish. Yet you dress more sedately, wear no jewelry, not even a velvet ribbon around your neck. You hope that eyes will be drawn to them rather than you. This is a futile hope, though. You are simply an extraordinary-looking man.”

He blushed. He was thrilled. He was in pain, her words firing his desire even more.

His hand went to her cheek. He couldn’t stop himself, he had to touch her. And she didn’t try to prevent his doing so. She merely stared at him, yet with such a swirl of emotion in those startling blue eyes that he almost forgot that they were sitting in the open at her campfire, and pulled her into his arms.

“Come home with me tonight, Gypsy,” he said huskily. “You won’t regret it.”