Read Online Taming the Prince by Elizabeth Bevarly - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Bevarly
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away. “Right. Escort. Whatever.”
She heard him begin to pace restlessly from one side of the tiny room to the other. “So where do you think we are, Miss Escort?”
She answered his sarcasm with some of her own. “Well, it appears to be a small room, doesn’t it? Probably a pantry of sorts, judging by the lingering aromas of cinnamon and sage.”
“And just where is this pantry, would you say?”
“In a house, I imagine.”
He grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, something Sara was certain she was better off not hearing. “And where do you think the house might be?” he asked impatiently.
She sighed, losing interest in their derision. “I’m guessing Spain, or perhaps Portugal,” she told him. “Though, truly, I can’t be certain.”
“How long do you think we’ll be here?”
Again, she answered honestly. “I have no idea.”
“Do you think we’ll survive?”
Sara straightened, stiffening her spine. “We will if I have anything to say about it.”
The muffled voices returned then, and both Sara and Shane turned toward the door. It opened as if they’d willed it to by their simple attention, and Fawn stood framed there with a small, battery-powered flashlight, a thermos and a basket. In the light that slanted through the door from behind her, Sara saw that they were indeed in a pantry, because beyond the flight attendant was a small, tidy kitchen. Without warning, Fawn tossed the flashlight toward Sara, and, even unprepared for the gesture, she caught it quitecapably. Then the other woman extended the thermos and basket to Shane, who stood nearer her.
“So you’ve saved me a bit of work and untied yourselves,” she said. “Well done.” She nodded toward Shane’s burdens and added, “There’s food and tea enough to get you through the night. Don’t think about escaping, because you’re well guarded, both inside the house and out. We’ve sent notice to the queen that we have you and that if she wants to see either of you again, alive and unharmed, then she’ll call off the alliances with Majorco and America. With any luck, in a few days, you’ll be in Penwyck. Without luck, in a few days, you’ll be lying by the side of the road somewhere with bullets lodged in your brains.”
And with that, she closed the door and locked it again, her footsteps fading. Sara switched on the flashlight, and was a bit surprised to find that it actually worked. She was almost sorry it did, though, when she got a good look at Shane’s face in the spastic light.
Good heavens, he was angry, she thought. She told herself that his anger was directed at the Black Knights, but there was something in his look, too, that indicated at least part of his unhappiness was with her. As quickly as she had detected the anger, however, it vanished. Without even heeding what he was doing, he shoved both thermos and basket onto a shelf beside him.
“I thought you were thirsty and starved,” Sara said. “Not that I wouldn’t be surprised to find the provisions tainted in some way, mind you, so I can understand your reluctance.”
“Thirst and hunger are the least of my worries right now,” he said.
Then he covered the distance between the two of them in three long strides. She was about to take an instinctive step in retreat when he lifted his hand to her face and brushed the backs of his bent knuckles gingerly over her right—and, she knew, bruised—cheek.
“That bitch,” he said in a low, menacing voice. “I can’t believe I actually thought she was cute.”
Somehow Sara refrained from pointing out that Fawn’s thighs were much too large, and her eyebrows much too heavy, and her demeanor much too obvious for her to ever be considered cute. Instead, she only said quietly, “I’m all right.”
And then somehow she did force herself to take that step in retreat. Not because she was frightened of Shane. No, she was far more fearful of the way he made her feel standing this close. The
She heard him begin to pace restlessly from one side of the tiny room to the other. “So where do you think we are, Miss Escort?”
She answered his sarcasm with some of her own. “Well, it appears to be a small room, doesn’t it? Probably a pantry of sorts, judging by the lingering aromas of cinnamon and sage.”
“And just where is this pantry, would you say?”
“In a house, I imagine.”
He grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, something Sara was certain she was better off not hearing. “And where do you think the house might be?” he asked impatiently.
She sighed, losing interest in their derision. “I’m guessing Spain, or perhaps Portugal,” she told him. “Though, truly, I can’t be certain.”
“How long do you think we’ll be here?”
Again, she answered honestly. “I have no idea.”
“Do you think we’ll survive?”
Sara straightened, stiffening her spine. “We will if I have anything to say about it.”
The muffled voices returned then, and both Sara and Shane turned toward the door. It opened as if they’d willed it to by their simple attention, and Fawn stood framed there with a small, battery-powered flashlight, a thermos and a basket. In the light that slanted through the door from behind her, Sara saw that they were indeed in a pantry, because beyond the flight attendant was a small, tidy kitchen. Without warning, Fawn tossed the flashlight toward Sara, and, even unprepared for the gesture, she caught it quitecapably. Then the other woman extended the thermos and basket to Shane, who stood nearer her.
“So you’ve saved me a bit of work and untied yourselves,” she said. “Well done.” She nodded toward Shane’s burdens and added, “There’s food and tea enough to get you through the night. Don’t think about escaping, because you’re well guarded, both inside the house and out. We’ve sent notice to the queen that we have you and that if she wants to see either of you again, alive and unharmed, then she’ll call off the alliances with Majorco and America. With any luck, in a few days, you’ll be in Penwyck. Without luck, in a few days, you’ll be lying by the side of the road somewhere with bullets lodged in your brains.”
And with that, she closed the door and locked it again, her footsteps fading. Sara switched on the flashlight, and was a bit surprised to find that it actually worked. She was almost sorry it did, though, when she got a good look at Shane’s face in the spastic light.
Good heavens, he was angry, she thought. She told herself that his anger was directed at the Black Knights, but there was something in his look, too, that indicated at least part of his unhappiness was with her. As quickly as she had detected the anger, however, it vanished. Without even heeding what he was doing, he shoved both thermos and basket onto a shelf beside him.
“I thought you were thirsty and starved,” Sara said. “Not that I wouldn’t be surprised to find the provisions tainted in some way, mind you, so I can understand your reluctance.”
“Thirst and hunger are the least of my worries right now,” he said.
Then he covered the distance between the two of them in three long strides. She was about to take an instinctive step in retreat when he lifted his hand to her face and brushed the backs of his bent knuckles gingerly over her right—and, she knew, bruised—cheek.
“That bitch,” he said in a low, menacing voice. “I can’t believe I actually thought she was cute.”
Somehow Sara refrained from pointing out that Fawn’s thighs were much too large, and her eyebrows much too heavy, and her demeanor much too obvious for her to ever be considered cute. Instead, she only said quietly, “I’m all right.”
And then somehow she did force herself to take that step in retreat. Not because she was frightened of Shane. No, she was far more fearful of the way he made her feel standing this close. The
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