Bones of a Feather - Carolyn Haines [31]
“Of course.” I ignored my gut’s loud clamor to cut and run. Don Cipriano worked on me. He was one of the most sexual men I’d ever met, and though my heart belonged to Graf, my body wasn’t dead to the heat this strange man generated.
He tucked my hand through his arm and escorted me toward the bar. “It’s a little early for a drink.” I had much to do and never drank with a dangerous man while I was working. Too many Delaneys had fallen off that horse for me not to take notice.
“They serve coffee,” he said, flashing a dimple in his right cheek I’d missed before.
When we were seated at a table in a dark corner, he sighed. “Why are you working for the Levert sisters?”
I was taken aback by his question. “Why would you care?”
He shrugged. “Natchez thrives on gossip. I understand Monica and Eleanor Levert are not to be trusted.”
“Again, I have to ask why it concerns you if I work for them, trustworthy or not.”
He stared deeply into my eyes, and for a split second, I was drawn into the brown depths. “Because they’re liars and cheats.”
The harshness in his voice shook me out of the trance. “You seem to know more about the Levert sisters than you should. Would you care to explain yourself?”
His hand reached across the table and found mine. Warm, strong fingers turned my hand over, and I found myself knowing I should stop him but unwilling to do so. He stroked my skin, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You have a number of stars in your palm, Miss Delaney.”
“And that signifies what?”
“Adventure, excitement, affairs of magnitude. Starred events can be good luck or crisis. There’s no way to tell. But you’ve recently had several … adventures. This past spring, there was heartache.”
I tried to pull my hand away, but he held it. He leaned closer, his warm breath teasing my skin. “Let me look further.” He studied the etched lines. “A plump mound of Venus signifies a woman who enjoys sensual pleasures.” His finger traced the base of my thumb with such delicious delicacy I had to grit my teeth.
“But here”—he touched the top line—“I see heartache. Romance has not been a smooth ride for you.”
“You can say that to almost any woman and she’ll agree.” I had to put some perspective on this. Once again I attempted to withdraw my hand, but he held it firmly, his thumb moving sensuously in the cup of my palm. My heart thudded, and I ignored the impulse to run.
“What are you afraid of?” he asked.
“I’m not afraid,” I lied.
“You are. I can feel your blood pounding.” His pointer slipped to my wrist, where he pressed a pulse point. “The blood never lies, Miss Delaney. I know these things. It’s a gift, a part of my heritage. I’m able to sense things about people, to know more than they wish to share.”
The need to flee grew stronger by the second, but I couldn’t allow him to know he was getting to me. “Are you part Gypsy, Don Cipriano?”
“I am,” he said. “Romanian Gypsy. My mother was an aristocrat, dazzlingly beautiful but of questionable character. My parents met in a small port city. Her sailboat docked to resupply and she met my father one evening in a bar. She seduced him, a simple man with the gift of prophecy. Their consuming passion overcame their different backgrounds. For a brief time they were happy, but one morning she was gone, vanished without a trace. I was an infant, too much of a burden for her to take.”
“Sounds like a fairy tale or the plot for a romantic novel,” I said. He was making this up out of whole cloth, but I couldn’t deny he projected sadness.
“Or a tragedy.” He brought my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss into the palm. Despite my best intentions, my body reacted.
When he released me, I put my hand under the table, fingers curled in a tight fist. “What did you wish to speak to me about?”
“To warn you.”
“About the Levert sisters?” I squeezed every ounce of skepticism I could into those four words.
“Perhaps it isn’t them. But there is danger around you.”
“How much will it cost me to have it removed?”
His eyes locked with mine. “I wish I could. If a fee