When Lightning Strikes by Cynthia Lucas Read Free Book Online Page A

thinking. She stared up at him for a long moment, her golden eyes locking with his silver-blue and he had to force himself to move back from her.
    Sarah knew she had no temperature, but she felt as if she had been burned with fire in the place where his lips had touched her skin. She sniffed the air where he knelt close to her. Something was different. To her disbelief, he smelled like fresh air, water and sun.
    “Hey! You took a bath.” She coughed lightly remembering the language thing. “I mean you have bathed,” she said trying to sound more serious and medieval.
    He looked at her as if she was out of her mind. “Of course I have bathed. What nonsense are you spewing forth now, woman?”
    “Nonsense? Excus e  moi , but this morning you smelled like a skunk!”
    His forehead wrinkled. “ Skonk ? What is skonk?”
    “Um….” her voice trailed off as she thought of how to explain it. What did they call them back then? Her brows knit together as she tried to think. “A polecat? A ferret? You know.” She reached up and held her nose.
    He looked at her for a moment with a cross expression and then a smirk formed on his lips. A second later he was laughing. The corded muscles stood out on his neck and she could see his pulse beating there, squelching any previous thoughts she may have had that this was all a bad dream. He was real.
    “Aaaah.” He nodded in understanding. “Polecátte? No. Furétte? Oui, perhaps you are correct. And with that painfully true remark, I am greatly relieved to know you were not made daft by the strike of lightning.”
    “You mean you don’t always smell that terrible?” She was relieved that he knew what a polecat and a ferret was, though he said the words in what must have been their original European form.
    His expression hardened just a bit. “My lady, have I mistreated you in any way that you would offend me? I am most sorrowful for injuring you earlier on the hill, but you forced my hand. I could not risk having you wake my men, for they might not be so polite with you. I also realize that I have offered you no food yet, but that will soon be remedied. Are you well enough to eat?”
    “Yes.” Now she felt embarrassed. She hadn’t meant to offend him about having body odor, it was just that she’d assumed that no one in this century bathed much. “Sir….I….”
    “Call me Dominic.”
    “Dominic, I really didn’t mean to offend you about smelling like a skunk…polecat. It’s just…well…I thought you might not get to take a bath very often.” Her eyes took on a look of the compassion she honestly felt. These were rough times, after all.
    He saw the look of emotion come into her eyes. Ah, yes. Pity. He understood now. She regarded him as filth, just like all the others of her kind. He had been hoping that maybe she wouldn’t be the shrew he had expected but he was now realizing that he was most certainly wrong and she was making it quite clear to remind him that she was well above him in social stature. His expression became serious and he cleared his throat before speaking.
    “I am Romany…a Gypsien as your kind have so named us and as you well know, we do not have the luxuries you are accustomed to. We must make our way as we can or die."
    Sarah opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself as his look hardened.
    "I know what you think of me. You think me a thief or a highwayman, and perhaps you are right. But I must also tell that unlike the many of your kind, who have no care from whence they line their purses, we do not take from those who cannot afford the loss. We are responsible for our actions, at least, and know that we may well burn in Hell for them. I suppose it can be no worse there than it is here at times."
    He looked away from her.
    "Dominic, I meant no offense to you. Really."
    "Oh, but you did, demoiselle. A ‘Gypsy’ I may be, but a fool I am not.”
    Dominic paused a moment and raked back a few stubborn locks of his hair from his handsome