Princess Read Online Free PDF Page B

half-Gypsy thief, no matter how much he adored the godlike man and gentle lady who had taken him in when he’d had nothing and no one.
    Even as a boy, it had been important to show King Lazar and Queen Allegra that their generosity was not misplaced. He had been fairly sure they wouldn’t send him away, for they treated him like a member of their own family, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He had applied himself to learning to read, getting an education, silently studying the people around him, and mastering every weapon he could find. He had been given the chance to become something higher and better than he was, and he channeled his anger into striving for excellence. As a ward of the king, he could have had countless advantages, but he had insisted on lifting himself up by his own merit, for he never wanted his benefactors to think for one second that he served them out of any other motive than gratitude, honor, loyalty, and love.
    Carefully, he led their daughter down the spiraling metal stairs to the passage below.
    Because the corridor was perfectly lightless, he let her keep holding his arm, but in the dark, with her so close and with the warmth and the scent of her enveloping him, it was strange how vivid his imagination grew.
    Visions came to him of maneuvering her against the smooth stuccoed wall and kissing her, tasting her mouth, parting his jacket, and cupping her beautiful breasts in his hands, caressing her until she forgot the other man’s touch on her silken skin, until he had obliterated it with his own.
    Shaken by the intensity of the impulse, he squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and picked up the pace, his spurs striking the flagstones with each swift stride.
    He could have any woman he wanted.
    Any but this one .
    “So, Darius, how did you manage to be in the right place at the exact moment I needed you?” she asked, giving his arm another fond tug. “Gypsy magic?”
    She was the only person who could mention the more disgraceful half of his heritage without insulting him.
    “Hardly. It was no coincidence. I tried to come ashore in secret but Saint-Laurent must have caught wind of my arrival. I presume he felt forced to make his move whether he was ready or not.”
    “I see.” She was silent for a moment, then her tone was hesitant. “Darius, I know you must report to Papa, but I don’t want you to tell him what Philippe . . . did. It would only hurt him.”
    Her request startled him—he didn’t think she could see that far beyond herself—but his own ready compliance surprised him even more. Lazar would want to know the full extent of the French insult to his daughter, but she was right. What purpose would it serve? It would only inflame the proud King Lazar di Fiore to agitate Napoleon worse.
    “Yes, Your Highness,” he murmured with the disquieting thought that he was adding up all sorts of secrets from the king these days.
    “First we’ll have to go to my apartments so I can change this dress. If Papa sees how torn it is . . .”
    “I understand.”
    “Thank you,” she whispered. And after a moment she added, “I am so very glad you are home, Darius. I worry for you so when you are gone.”
    He felt her hands slide down his arm, gently clasping his hand in both of hers. He swallowed hard. In the darkness, he opened his hand and linked his fingers through hers, pulling her gently around the corner.
    Soon they ascended the lightless, narrow stairs. They turned on the landing, but as they started up the second flight, he began to feel disturbingly light-headed. He ignored the faint, sick dizziness at first, but midway up the stairs he leaned against the wall suddenly, overcome by a wave of nausea which he knew could only be the result of blood loss. His shoulder hurt like hell.
    “Darius? What is it?”
    “I’m all right.” Stars burst before his eyes on the blackness.
    “Sit down. I’ll go for the surgeon.”
    “No, it’s nothing, I don’t—want that—bumbling