Her Master's Touch by Patricia Watters Page A

foreboding lingered. Dismissing the
disturbing reflection, she returned to her search. Before checking
the wardrobe, however, she stepped to the hallway and listened for
footsteps. Hearing none, she opened the wardrobe doors and ran her
hand over the shelf above. Finding the crude beginning of a mouse
nest, and deciding it could come in handy if she needed to justify
her search, she stuffed it into the pocket of her apron. Next, she
shoved the clothes on their hangars to one side and started
searching pockets.
    She had just tucked her hand into the pocket
of a frock coat when a deep voice, coming from the direction of the
hallway, startled her. "Are you looking for something?” Lord
Ravencroft asked.
    Eliza snatched her hand away. "I was looking
for... mice."
    Lord Ravencroft arched a dark brow. "In the
pocket of my frock coat?"
    Eliza retrieved the nest from her apron
pocket, and said, "I found this, so I was checking your clothes for
other signs of the little beggars. But, if you'd rather I not do
such a thorough job I'll consider my task done and tend to my other
duties."
    "No, please. Carry on." His gaze fixed where
the lapels of her dress lay open.
    Eliza pinched the lapels together. "It's very
hot in here," she said, cheeks growing warm, "which is why I
unfastened my dress."
    "Pity," he said. "I was hoping you'd
unfastened it for my pleasure, like you did at the horse fair. When
you held the horse for my inspection, you were eager to give me a
view of what you have to offer. But you never delivered on your
promise.”
    "I was following the orders of my elders,"
Eliza said. "I’m rarely required to deal in horses. I either tattoo
or dance, after which I pass my tin cup. But the elders gave me
orders to sell the horse however I could, which is what I did."
    Damon peered down at her, and said, "If I
fill your cup with rupees will you dance for me, gypsy girl?"
    Eliza looked at him sharply, and replied,
"Why? So you can look down your noble nose at me and tell her what
a fool I am to degrade myself by being what I am?"
    Damon's face sobered. "No, so you can share a
little of the life you lead so I can try to understand what's
holding you to it."
    "I doubt, my lord, you could," Eliza said.
"Most gorgio s cannot."
    "And after you leave my employ? What then?"
he asked.
    Eliza gave him a droll smile. "I'll carry on
as before. Begging, stealing, swindling. All the things gypsies do
best."
    As she turned to go, Damon took her arm and
pulled her around. "I don't suppose I have a hope in hell
convincing you that I'm sorry if I offended you," he said, his eyes
holding hers.
    The way he was looking at her brought a surge
of desire coursing through Eliza. Whatever concerned him about the
tattoo the night before had vanished, along with her resolve to
keep her distance. But it was the look in his eyes that captivated
her now. No man ever looked at her that way, as if she mattered.
Did he feel something for her? Could he feel something for a
half-Hindu woman, maybe take her into his heart and make her his
wife? As Lady Ravencroft, she’d shed her gypsy ways and be the wife
he'd want her to be. She focused on his mouth. How could a man’s
lips look so inviting? And why did she want to taste them one more
time? He was, after all, just a man with an ordinary mouth.
    No, not ordinary. No man she’d ever met had a
mouth like that.
    Strong... firm... soft... inviting...
    On impulse, she raised on tiptoe and kissed
him squarely on the lips. Before she could explore the reason for
her impetuous move, he pulled her into his arms and returned the
kiss in a way she’d never expected. The tip of his tongue teased
her lips apart, touching and tasting and darting in and out of her
mouth like a game of tongue tag, reminding her of a bevy of gypsy
urchins running and tagging and darting here and there. But it was
the sweet, smoky taste of him that near took her breath away. With
that came the realization that she was exploring his mouth, yet