Princess Annie Read Online Free PDF

replied, sitting down again.
    Annie nibbled at a slice of bacon and pushed her eggs around on her plate with her fork for a time, then forced herself, with visible resolution, to look Rafael directly in the eye.
    “Do you plan to send me away?” she asked. There was a slight flush in her cheeks. “In retribution for what happened last night, I mean?”
    In truth, Rafael had already forgotten his rash decree. The brandy had done its work the night before; he’d slept well, and his hands, though somewhat sore, were already mending. His worst discomfort, at the moment, was an all-too-ignoble tightening, deep in his groin.
    Rafael settled back in his chair and frowned ponderously, but thoughts were rushing through his head. By rights, he should tell Annie the incident was forgotten and let matters go at that, but something in him, something powerful, refused to let her off so easily. He greatly enjoyed watching her displays of spirit, and there were few amusements in his life as it was.
    “Yes,” he said, at last, in a stern and, he hoped, commanding voice, straightening again and regarding Miss Trevarren through narrowed eyes. “You will stay within my sight all day, lest you climb something, fall off, and break your impetuous little neck.”
    What, Rafael wondered, the moment the words were out of his mouth, had made him say such a thing? Now the little chit would be underfoot until dinnertime, and he would get little or nothing accomplished.
    Not that it mattered, he thought cynically. His father, and the St. Jameses that had ruled before him, had run the country into the ground. There was no saving it now, no stemming the tide of consequence, though Rafael still worked long hours in the attempt, and had been doing so ever since his return from England. Even knowing the cause was hopeless, he could not bring himself to turn from it.
    Annie’s cheeks grew pinker, and her blue eyes flashed with something that might have been either rebellion or triumph. He couldn’t tell which and did not particularly care.
    “That ought to be excruciatingly dull for both of us,” she remarked, with an impudent little shrug and a sigh. For all her subtle defiance, she still avoided his gaze.
    Rafael hoped his amusement wasn’t too apparent, for he sensed her great pride, and admired it. “Most of my guests do not climb out onto rotting parapets for a view of the countryside,” he replied. Seeing her squirm slightly in her chair, he pressed his advantage, but gently. “If your father had been here to witness last night’s episode,” he said, “I believe you would have found yourself in considerable trouble.”
    She looked away quickly, and Rafael wanted to laugh out loud, though of course he didn’t. When she met his eyes again, her own were bright with cerulean fire, but before she could utter whatever scathing reply she’d summoned up, his young half brother, Lucian, sauntered into the room.
    Lucian resembled Rafael, but he was smaller, slightly built, with fragile, aristocratic features. Being physically agile and quite cunning as well, he made a worthy fencing opponent but, beyond that, he wasn’t of much use. The brothers were virtual strangers, since Lucian had been sent to another part of England for fostering, and they had little in common. For the most part, Rafael ignored his sibling, though there were periodic occasions when Lucian got himself into trouble and either Rafael or Edmund Barrett had to extricate him.
    Despite his time away from home, which should have served to mature him, the younger St. James son was in many ways as badly spoiled as Phaedra, who had lived in Bavia, fawned and fussed over by a series of nurses, governesses and maids until she was old enough to attend St. Aspasia’s.
    That morning, as Lucian filled his plate and then approached the table, it seemed to Rafael that there was a faint, predatory gleam in his brother’s eyes. He felt a twinge of irritation—nothing new where this