Through Gypsy Eyes by Killarney Sheffield

fuzz is starting to come in, Jester. It will not be long before we shall frolic in the snow, I think.” The pony sighed as if mourning the passing of summer. She smiled and ran the brush down his neck. “Do not be so sad. You love Candlemas and the hunt for the perfect Yule log.” This time her sigh was the one of mourning. “It will not be the same without Papa.”
    “Your father would want you to be safe and wed by the time the winter storms fly, Miss Daysland.”
    Delilah grimaced and continued brushing. “What are you doing here, March?”
    “Is that the way to greet a fawning suitor?”
    This time she swung around at the baron’s preposterous claim, brush in one hand and the other on her hip. “My what? Whatever gave you the idea I would welcome the likes of you as a suitor?”
    “Lord Frost did accept my request just this morning in fact.”
    The smugness in his reply made her want to smack him. “Oh, he did, did he? Well, we shall see about that. No man will tell me whose favor to endure.” Dropping the brush she made to stomp off to her father’s study.
    The baron stayed her with a hand on her arm. “Have you considered the idea his lordship might be behind the attacks on you of late?”
    She froze, the idea making her blood run cold. The thought had crossed her mind but never taken root. “How do you know of them and what makes you think the earl is to blame?”
    “He told me. Does it not seem strange you were in no danger until he showed up here?”
    A chill crept up her spine at the sinister edge to his tone. He was right. Her life was simple and uneventful before the earl arrived. She touched her lips remembering his kiss. Danger arrived on the eve of the earl’s appearance. So did desire …
    “Accept my suit, Delilah, and I shall keep you safe.”
    Scowling at the baron’s forward use of her given name, she drew herself up tall and returned to brushing her guide. “I have no intention of ever marrying.”
    “Yet marrying you off is the earl’s sole goal. Perhaps I may suggest a compromise?”
    Her hand on the brush stilled. Curiosity overcame her resolve to spurn his pleas. “What kind of compromise?”
    “You accept my suit, publicly, and in exchange I will permit you to live out the rest of your days here with no strings attached.”
    Though appealing, the idea did not sit right with her. She turned to him, the brush forgotten in her hand. “What do you have to gain by such a deception?”
    “It is simple. You will give me control of all your assets, in return I will allow everyone to think we are married, give you a monthly allowance, and you can return here after Lord Frost has gone. No one would be the wiser. You would be free of ever having to entertain a suitor again.”
    She mulled the idea over in her mind. What did she have to lose except a large amount of wealth she would never spend or need for her simple lifestyle? The stronger question was whether she trusted the baron to keep his end of the deal. “What if you should want to marry another one day? After all, you shall need an heir eventually.”
    “A petition for divorce is an option, though still very taboo. If we fail to ah, consummate the marriage, there will be little contest to annulling it.”
    The idea of lying with the baron made her stomach turn. Most likely he was as repulsed by her as she was by him. But would the earl fall for the ruse?
    The baron cleared his throat. “Well?”
    “All right. The marriage will be in name only. I shall return to live here as soon as the earl has gone to London.” It would be easy to fool the earl and a simple solution to her problems. Unease settled in her stomach. Wouldn’t it?
    The baron took her hand and kissed the back of it. “It is settled then. I shall tell the earl you have consented to be my wife and urge him to apply for special license so we might be wed as soon as the banns are read.”
    Prying her fingers from his grip, she shook her head. “First you must