If You Dare by Kresley Cole Read Free Book Online

her.
    What in the hell had been in that letter and why had she been crying?
    Court didn’t like mysteries. To him, they had a taunting aspect, as if their mere existence accused him of not working hard enough to solve them.
    He was used to doing as he pleased, and right now what would please him would be learning more about the secretive Annalía. She’d most likely be asleep, but her room could tell him much.
    Rising from bed, he dressed, then ran his hand under his mattress to grab the ivory knitting needle he’d found in adrawer. His own lock hadn’t withstood it, and hers shouldn’t prove any different.
    He strode down the landing, checking doors until he found one locked. When he stuck the needle point into the keyhole and pressed to the side, the corner of his lips curled at the click. Creaking open the door, he entered the room and approached her bed. The night had just a hint of breeze, with a growing moon shedding light inside.
    He found her lying on her front with a thin sheet stretched across her back and her hair spilling across her pillow. Stunning. Thick, glossy curls shone in the moonlight, fascinating him, as did the feeling that arose when he realized, when he knew in his gut, he was the only man to have seen it loose and free. He had the urge to touch it, to smell it, but he forced himself to turn from her and investigate the room.
    All of her belongings were stored with an obsessive neatness, and the ornamentations, like everything about her, were incredibly feminine. Lace predominated, but her bookshelf was like a man’s: mathematics, botany, astronomy, and studies in four different languages. He spied another text beside her bed, this one on the Greek language.
    An ornate display cabinet, polished until it reflected like a mirror, was the center point of the room and housed a porcelain collection arranged on glass shelves. He could see why Annalía might be unconsciously attracted to the pieces. They were bright and striking but fragile, which was exactly how she appeared. They were also unmistakably expensive.
    An unfamiliar and wearisome feeling crept over him when he realized her hobby was worth more than he made in a year working tirelessly and risking his life.
    His mood improved when he silently opened a drawer—not that he cared overmuch if he woke her, because what could she do?—and discovered a cache of steamy gothic novelsin every imaginable language. He grinned. Lady Annalía’s dirty little secret.
    Beside the books was a thick bundle of letters. He drew it out, then crossed to the moonlit window to scan them. They were all from girls at a place called The Vines, which was apparently a school. The recognizable surnames were like a partial compilation of the world’s wealthiest and highest-ranked families. He had to wonder even for Annalía’s beauty and wealth, how she’d gotten in. He would return to the letters tomorrow during her ride and read them all by daylight—
    She kicked off her sheet in the heat of the room, and his brows rose at what was revealed. Her nightdress was silk—he wouldn’t have expected anything less from her—and rode up her creamy thighs, high. The lace edge brushed just below her backside, which was lush and full—that he hadn’t expected. He hissed in a breath when she bent one knee and drew it up beside her so that her legs were parted, with only shadow concealing her.
    His hands itched to run up the backs of her thighs to palm her curves . . . until she raised her hips to him with need and spread her knees . . . He fought to bite back a guttural sound and failed.
    Though she didn’t wake, she sighed something in Catalan and turned on her back, one slender arm stretching out to the side, her other hand resting on her chest. Perfect, generous breasts strained against the tight bodice, and he groaned, clenching his fists and crushing the letters. She’d hidden