Read Online Hide and Seek by James Patterson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Patterson
Tags: FIC022000
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thick carpet and rolled over a few times.
“You look more like a stripper.
Sorry
. Sorry. Just kidding, Mom.”
“You better be.”
Anyway, what difference did it make how I looked? It was all a dream, wasn't it? None of this could possibly be real. It was too good, and I was way too happy.
CHAPTER 23
T HIS WAS SO
not-me
. That's why it was perfect. The grand ball was held in the home of Lord Trevelyan, a four-storied Georgian mansion lit for the evening by enormous searchlights placed on the roofs of the opposite buildings.
When my car arrived, so did the black cab of a boisterous group impersonating the Bloomsbury literary crowd. They were dressed in knickers, suffragette blouses, and long puffed skirts, carrying dusty books and baskets of cut flowers. Jennie would have approved.
I went inside with the Bloomsbury characters to find at least two hundred guests, all outfitted in an array of costumes from all centuries and walks of life, sipping champagne (a glass was quickly served me) and chatting the night away.
Soon a trumpet sounded and the guests grew silent. Down the steps leading to the main foyer in which most of us were gathered came—Queen Elizabeth I! Her crown of rubies and sapphires glistened in the light; her dress, festooned with a thousand pearls, was as regal as its wearer.
This is a dream, right? A neat dream though
.
The “Queen” was, of course, Lady Trevelyan, our hostess. “Supper is served,” a butler announced, and we entered a magnificent dining room. We feasted on salmon, salads, cheeses, fresh fruits, and petit fours. After an hour or so, Lady Trevelyan rose and nodded to two footmen. The doors were swung open to the grand ballroom. Soon music started, a series of waltzes and fox-trots.
A man strode toward me on the dance floor. I would have turned away, but it was crowded, and there was nowhere to go.
He was dressed all in black, a hood over his head, a mask covering his face, so that only his eyes were visible. He had beautiful eyes, I couldn't help noticing. Something moved inside me.
Strange
.
“You're Maggie Bradford,” he said. “Please give me your jewels or I'll be forced to steal them.”
“You have the advantage,” I said. “You know my name, but I don't know yours.”
He bowed and raised my hand to his lips. “I'm Raffles, the infamous thief, at your service. And I'd rather steal your heart than your jewels.”
I didn't look away from his eyes. “Then let me see your face. I don't let just anyone steal my heart.”
I didn't know what to make of him. Lots of men had tried to seduce me since I had become
someone
, but this was a new approach.
Hi, I'd like to steal your jewels, or maybe, your heart
.
He bowed again, and with a single gesture removed his mask and hood.
Before me, without any exaggeration, stood one of the most handsome men I had ever seen. His blond hair hung down to his shoulders, and his green eyes blazed with an all-consuming light. Music came into my head. His tanned skin announced that he spent a lot of time outdoors, but his face was unlined; he was still young. His smile—and he was smiling now—revealed perfect white teeth and the skin around his jaw was smooth and taut.
“Raffles. Really? And what do they call you in the light of day?” I asked.
“Will,” he said, “Will Shepherd.” He took a step back to study the effect his name had.
It had
no
effect. I had never heard of him. “A nice name.” I had noticed his accent. “You're American?”
“By birth. I've spent most of my life in England. I resisted
sounding
like one of them. I'm stubborn sometimes.
Most
of the time.”
“And what do you do, Mr. Shepherd? Besides conduct highway robberies?”
If possible, his smile grew even brighter. “I'm afraid that I play football. Or soccer, as you would call it. You could come someday to see me play.”
“I'd enjoy that. I guess I would. Although I should warn you, I'm not much of a sports fan.”
“Yet I'm an
“You look more like a stripper.
Sorry
. Sorry. Just kidding, Mom.”
“You better be.”
Anyway, what difference did it make how I looked? It was all a dream, wasn't it? None of this could possibly be real. It was too good, and I was way too happy.
CHAPTER 23
T HIS WAS SO
not-me
. That's why it was perfect. The grand ball was held in the home of Lord Trevelyan, a four-storied Georgian mansion lit for the evening by enormous searchlights placed on the roofs of the opposite buildings.
When my car arrived, so did the black cab of a boisterous group impersonating the Bloomsbury literary crowd. They were dressed in knickers, suffragette blouses, and long puffed skirts, carrying dusty books and baskets of cut flowers. Jennie would have approved.
I went inside with the Bloomsbury characters to find at least two hundred guests, all outfitted in an array of costumes from all centuries and walks of life, sipping champagne (a glass was quickly served me) and chatting the night away.
Soon a trumpet sounded and the guests grew silent. Down the steps leading to the main foyer in which most of us were gathered came—Queen Elizabeth I! Her crown of rubies and sapphires glistened in the light; her dress, festooned with a thousand pearls, was as regal as its wearer.
This is a dream, right? A neat dream though
.
The “Queen” was, of course, Lady Trevelyan, our hostess. “Supper is served,” a butler announced, and we entered a magnificent dining room. We feasted on salmon, salads, cheeses, fresh fruits, and petit fours. After an hour or so, Lady Trevelyan rose and nodded to two footmen. The doors were swung open to the grand ballroom. Soon music started, a series of waltzes and fox-trots.
A man strode toward me on the dance floor. I would have turned away, but it was crowded, and there was nowhere to go.
He was dressed all in black, a hood over his head, a mask covering his face, so that only his eyes were visible. He had beautiful eyes, I couldn't help noticing. Something moved inside me.
Strange
.
“You're Maggie Bradford,” he said. “Please give me your jewels or I'll be forced to steal them.”
“You have the advantage,” I said. “You know my name, but I don't know yours.”
He bowed and raised my hand to his lips. “I'm Raffles, the infamous thief, at your service. And I'd rather steal your heart than your jewels.”
I didn't look away from his eyes. “Then let me see your face. I don't let just anyone steal my heart.”
I didn't know what to make of him. Lots of men had tried to seduce me since I had become
someone
, but this was a new approach.
Hi, I'd like to steal your jewels, or maybe, your heart
.
He bowed again, and with a single gesture removed his mask and hood.
Before me, without any exaggeration, stood one of the most handsome men I had ever seen. His blond hair hung down to his shoulders, and his green eyes blazed with an all-consuming light. Music came into my head. His tanned skin announced that he spent a lot of time outdoors, but his face was unlined; he was still young. His smile—and he was smiling now—revealed perfect white teeth and the skin around his jaw was smooth and taut.
“Raffles. Really? And what do they call you in the light of day?” I asked.
“Will,” he said, “Will Shepherd.” He took a step back to study the effect his name had.
It had
no
effect. I had never heard of him. “A nice name.” I had noticed his accent. “You're American?”
“By birth. I've spent most of my life in England. I resisted
sounding
like one of them. I'm stubborn sometimes.
Most
of the time.”
“And what do you do, Mr. Shepherd? Besides conduct highway robberies?”
If possible, his smile grew even brighter. “I'm afraid that I play football. Or soccer, as you would call it. You could come someday to see me play.”
“I'd enjoy that. I guess I would. Although I should warn you, I'm not much of a sports fan.”
“Yet I'm an
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