The Wronged Princess - Book I Read Online Free PDF Page B

matter that he was the culprit that set the disaster in motion . His own worst enemy.
    He mounted his horse .  A great, brute of a stallion, something a man could take pride in.
    The frightening mother cast her daughter one final look of exasperation and rolled her eyes .  She somehow remembered protocol in her deep curtsy, prodding her daughters to do the same .  Prince managed to hold back a groan .  He was appalled .  At himself, no less.
    He raised a hand in farewell .  Somehow he and Arnald would claw their way from this scrape .  They always had before .  Surely, they could once more . 
    With a quick nod, he signaled the Royal party to follow .  Once they’d made distance he shook his head, numbed by the turn of events . 
    A sharp gust of wind burst out of nowhere, making him unable to resist one last glance behind .  He watched the mother’s robust figure disappear into the cottage, the blonde with the over-large feet following with her nose in the air .  Even from this reach he could see her back stiff and fuming with resentment.
    The stunning outcome of the events had him on the verge of hysterical laughter .  It would not do, however, to terrify his party .  The state of bewilderment had Prince turning to the entourage, and citing calmly—because that is how one’s leader was expected to carry oneself, “Well, I believe we have accomplished our search . ” He would never know how he contrived to not strangulate on the words.
    He motioned to the footmen and trumpet player to lead on , but narrowed his eyes on his right hand man .  W ho swiped a suspicious smirk from his face , not quickly enough, however .  “Do you find something amusing, cousin?”
    “Oh, oui , cousin .  I believe I find thought of the next few weeks highly entertaining.”
    He cast Arnald a scowl .  Mayhap, he would seek help elsewhere.
     
    *****
    At a loss to what appeared a completely hopeless situation, Prince guided his men through to the courtyard stables and pitched the reins to a waiting groom . 
    It wasn’t her .  Where was his mysterious princess ? He’d searched everywhere .  ’T was as if she’d vanished into thin air .  And what was he to do now ? H e could not conceivably marry Elspeth . Non, non , that was not right .  Erasma.
    And , those eyes .  Mon…Dieu ! Determining the color ? Impossible when they hammered like a thousand horses in an Indian desert in the midst of a dry spell .  Nor could he remember the color of her hair, her dress, so distracted was he by the wild and out-of-control flapping of her lashes .  Another hysterical urge to laugh almost escaped .  It was an obvious sore point with her mother .  He shook his head to clear the picture of Erlinda, and growled in frustration.
    So intent he’d been on his one focused goal that when the petite and surprisingly elegant foot slid right into that blasted tiny slipper—well, it was clear he had not thought the idea through with any sort of clarity .  He needed advice and he needed it now .  From anyone but his blasted cousin.
    Papá ? Possibly, he thought frowning .  But even at his best, Papá was somewhat simple minded .  He would have to do .  He had not much choice .  Abruptly dismissing the footmen, he stormed the castle and aimed a determined stride for the library . 
    A roaring fire blazed in the enormous hearth that gave the room warmth despite the high-reaching, frescoed ceiling and large windows .  Heavy mahogany bookcases overflowing with books covered two walls from top to bottom .  Freshly waxed wood scented the chamber .  Prince had loved this room as a child, partially due to the heat it provided in this monstrosity of a castle . 
    He spied his father slumped in an overstuffed gilded chair, feet propped on a matching ottoman .  Reading spectacles sat askew his large nose with one hand resting over his chest .  The picture was complete by the massive book that lay open across his lap .  His loud snore