Read Online Abducted by a Prince by Olivia Drake - Free Book Online Page A

Ellie tried to raise her hands to thrust him away. But her arms were trapped beneath the quilt and she felt as weak as a newborn kitten. The realization that she was lying in a bed only increased her fright. She thrashed to free herself from the tangled weight of coverings.
    “Get away!” She meant to shout, but her dry throat allowed only a rasp of sound. “Or I’ll … I’ll scream.”
    He obligingly straightened up and retreated, though taking only a single backward step. His charcoal-gray coat and silver waistcoat bespoke expensive tailoring. Hands on his hips, he gazed down at her, his mouth twisted in a grimace. “Calm yourself, Lady Beatrice. I’ve no intention of harming you—so long as you cooperate.”
    Beatrice? His statement confused Ellie and she searched the fuzzy edges of her mind for an explanation. Had he meant to abduct her cousin, then? It would seem so. She had to make him understand his mistake.
    But first, Ellie wanted to stand on her own two feet. She felt horribly vulnerable lying down without any means of defending herself. Gathering all of her strength, she hoisted herself up on her elbows. Then she had to stop, panting with effort, as fatigue sapped her strength.
    Much to her surprise, a woman appeared at the bedside to lend assistance. The middle-aged maidservant had kind blue eyes in a careworn face and she clucked in sympathy at Ellie’s plight. With her help, Ellie soon found herself sitting against a mound of pillows and taking a sip of water from a proffered cup. The dull pounding in her head made her slightly nauseous. She ignored it, too busy trying to assess the direness of her situation.
    She sat in an antique, four-poster bed with a sagging canopy and dark green curtains to be drawn around at night to keep out the drafts. The room had curved stone walls, narrow window slits, and heavy, old-fashioned furnishings.
    It looked like a prison cell for a noble hostage.
    The maid scurried back to her place by the door, joining a grizzled, bald-pated man with bandy legs. He must have been the other male voice she’d heard, Ellie realized. The presence of the servants made her feel only marginally safer.
    Her gaze returned to her abductor. As if hewn of marble, he hadn’t moved. He remained standing beside the bed in that arrogant pose with his hands flanking his lean waist and his gaze intent on her. The hard slash of his mouth showed no sign of softening.
    “I’m afraid you’ve made a terrible mistake,” she said.
    He had the audacity to chuckle. “I’m sure you believe so, my lady. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Damien Burke. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
    Ellie fleetingly noted the absurdity of a formal introduction to her abductor as if they were guests in a London drawing room. Then her mind latched onto his name. Damien Burke . Where had she heard it before?
    From out of the mists of memory came a scrap of gossip. Some six or seven years ago, she’d been helping the countess sort her embroidery threads when Walt had burst into their grandmother’s boudoir. He’d been eager to relate the latest scandal, that one of his old classmates, a scoundrel by the name of Damien Burke, had been caught in flagrante delicto with an impoverished lady and had been drummed out of polite society.
    So much for the Demon Prince, Walt had said almost gleefully. Now he’ll return to the gutter where he belongs.
    The countess had agreed. She’d declared Damien Burke to be the sort of rogue who put a shiver down the spine of any decent lady.
    Now, staring up at his stony features, Ellie didn’t feel a shiver. Instead, she felt a swell of anger that he’d had the nerve to kidnap an innocent lady for his own nefarious purposes. Demon Prince, indeed!
    She gripped her fingers in her lap. “It isn’t a pleasure to meet you, sir. Nor will you find it a pleasure when you realize that I’m not Lady Beatrice. I’m her cousin, Miss Eloise Stratham. You have imprisoned