Read Online Anne & Henry by Dawn Ius - Free Book Online Page B

group, but this kind of reaction is over the top, even for his inflated ego—and it’s wearing thin.
    â€œOh, come now, mates, she’s a bit bodgy maybe, but she’s no dero ,” Charles says. At our combined silence, he chuckles. “She’s got a nice arse.”
    â€œThat’s debatable,” John mutters.
    â€œShe deserves a fair go,” Charles says, and looks away. “It’s not easy fitting in around here.”
    I raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, I guess you’d know, right?”
    â€œThe key is persistence,” Charles says, amused. “And an accent.”
    He’s only part kidding. Family wealth and some mad rowing skills gave him a reluctant in with the guys, and white chicks pretty much throw their panties when they hear his voice. After a year in the U.S., the accent has faded, but every once in a while an unfamiliar word slips in, a reminder that he hasn’t always been one of us, hasn’t always fit in.
    A little like Anne.
    I shake my head. No, nothing like Anne. She doesn’t come from money, isn’t polished or refined, can’t lean on an accent. She’s hard, rebellious, and—
    Hot.
    Christ, she’s hot.
    My mind wanders back to that tank, the way the strap slid off her pale shoulder, further blurring the lines I’m already having a hard time seeing. I take a breath, pick up the oar, and stare straight ahead.
    â€œThanks for the concern, boys,” I say with sarcasm, trying to regain control. “But it’s not me who’s spent the past five minutes talking about Anne Boleyn. Let’s get back in the game.”
    As we take our first synchronized stroke and the boat lunges forward, I focus on steadying my breathing. On keeping a featherlight grip on the oar. On guiding the boat through the water. I focus on the silence, my surroundings, the burn of my muscles with each strong, deliberate stroke.
    I focus on anything.
    Except Anne.

CHAPTER TEN
Anne
    S am’s fingers wrap around my biceps, tighten so hard I’m sure the muscle will—
    â€œShit, Sam! That kinda hurts.”
    She drops her voice to a whisper. “Incoming.”
    I scan the hallway, squint into the Friday afternoon crowds bulldozing their way to the front doors of the school. “What the hell are you talking about?”
    She opens her mouth, snaps it shut. A sheepish, ridiculous grin spreads across her face. I follow her gaze to—
    Charles?
    His tall, lanky body stands in front of us, blocking our way. Locks of sun-bleached hair sweep over one ocean-blue eye. When he smiles, his white teeth glow against the dark brown of his deep tan.
    â€œG’day, Anne,” he says, Aussie accent slipping through his practiced English.
    Sam’s posture straightens, her body tenses. Holy shit—she’s got a thing for Charles. He’s so not her type, or at least what I think of as her type, and the devil on my shoulder whispers for me to have a little fun. But Sam is my first, maybe only, real friend in Medina and I don’t want to piss her off.
    In truth, I’m surprised to see Charles. Sure, he’s one of the nice ones, the only guy besides Henry who hasn’t leered or sneered in my direction—but he’s still a friend of Henry’s. Of Catherine’s.
    â€œWhat did I do?” I say, smirking a little, positive the only reason he wants to talk to me is to relay some kind of message, another warning to stay away from Henry.
    â€œNothing yet,” Charles says. He winks at Sam, though it’s more of an afterthought. I imagine her pooling at my feet in a puddle of desire. “But if you’re feeling adventurous, there’s this thingy tomorrow . . .”
    â€œNo thanks.”
    Charles’s smile broadens, a dimple appears in his cheek, and for a second, I can’t help but stare. Maybe I can see a little of what Sam sees.
    â€œHang on, now. You don’t even know what it