The Serpent Prince Read Online Free PDF Page A

“A book for my niece.”
    She closed her mouth and raised her eyebrows, waiting silently for him to continue.
    “If you don’t mind humoring a wounded man, of course.” Shameless. For some reason it was important that he engage her.
    “What kind of a book?”
    “Oh, a fairy tale, I think. Don’t you?”
    She took back her book and settled it on her lap, slowly turning to a blank page. “Yes?”
    Oh, Christ, now he was on the spot, but at the same time he felt like laughing aloud. He hadn’t felt this lighthearted in ages. Simon glanced hurriedly around the little room and caught sight of a small, framed map on the opposite wall. Sea serpents frolicked around the edges of the print. He smiled into her eyes. “The tale of the Serpent Prince.”
    Her gaze dropped to his lips and then hastily up again. His smile grew wider. Ah, even an angel could be tempted.
    But she only arched a brow at him. “I’ve never heard it.”
    “I’m surprised,” he lied easily. “It was quite a favorite of my youth. Brings back fond memories, that, of bouncing on my old nurse’s knee by the fire while she thrilled us with the tale.” In for a penny, in for a pound.
    She gave him a patently skeptical look.
    “Now let me see.” Simon stifled a yawn. The pain in his shoulder had died to a dull throb, but his headache had increased as if to make up for it. “Once upon a time—that’s the prescribed way to begin, isn’t it?”
    The lady didn’t help. She merely sat back in her chair and waited for him to make a fool of himself.
    “There lived a poor lass who made a meager living tending the king’s goats. She was orphaned and quite alone in the world, except, of course, for the goats, who were rather smelly.”
    “Goats?”
    “Goats. The king was fond of goat cheese. Now hush, child, if you want to hear this.” Simon tilted his head back. It was aching terribly. “I believe her name was Angelica, if that’s of any interest—the goat girl, that is.”
    She merely nodded this time. She’d picked up a pencil and had begun sketching in her book, although he couldn’t see the page, so he didn’t know if she was illustrating his story or not.
    “Angelica toiled every day, from the first light of dawn until the sun had long set, and all she had for company were the goats. The king’s castle was built on top of a cliff, and the goat girl lived at the foot of the cliff in a little stick hut. If she looked far, far up, past the sheer rocks, past the shining white stone of the castle walls to the very turrets, sometimes she could just catch a glimpse of the castle folk in their jewels and fine robes. And once in a very great while, she would see the prince.”
    “The Serpent Prince?”
    “No.”
    She cocked her head, her eyes still on her drawing. “Then why is the fairy tale called The Serpent Prince if he isn’t the Serpent Prince?”
    “He comes later. Are you always this impatient?” he asked sternly.
    She glanced up at him then as her lips slowly curved into a smile. Simon was struck dumb, all thought having fled from his mind. Her fine, jeweled eyes crinkled at the corners, and a single dimple appeared on the smooth surface of her left cheek. She positively glowed. Miss Craddock-Hayes really was an angel. Simon felt a strong, almost violent, urge to thumb away that dimple. To lift her face and taste her smile.
    He closed his eyes. He didn’t want this.
    “I’m sorry,” he heard her say. “I won’t interrupt again.”
    “No, that’s all right. I’m afraid my head hurts. No doubt from having it bashed in the other day.” Simon stopped babbling as something occurred to him. “When, exactly, was I found?”
    “Two days ago.” She rose and gathered her book and pens. “I’ll leave you to rest. I can write the letter to your valet in the meantime and post it. Unless you would like to read it first?”
    “No, I’m sure you’ll do fine.” Simon sank into the pillows, his ringless hand lax on the coverlet.