Princess Charming by Beth Pattillo Read Free Book Online Page B

took one look inside the chamber and gasped. The room was a terrifying menagerie of leather, steel, and wood. Henny gave a throaty laugh at Lucy’s shock, and for a moment, Lucy’s feet failed her. Then the pressure of the gardener’s hand on her arm jolted her into action. She moved forward, fascinated. Morbidly so.
    “It’s a torture chamber,” she breathed, too stunned to be afraid.
    The only remotely recognizable items were a large bed that dominated the center of the room and a huge wardrobe standing in the corner. Her stomach clenched with fear, and she frantically cast about for another exit. She glanced at the man beside her, who regarded her with amused brown eyes.
    Instinctively, Lucy pulled her arm free from his grip with a sharp tug and turned toward the door. One step, then two—she was almost through the open doorway when his fingers closed around her wrist once more.
    “Wait,” he said.
    In her panic, Lucy lost her balance, but the gardener steadied her and then took the squirming Wellington from her arms.
    “It’s not what you think.”
    Henny snorted. “It’s exactly what she thinks, Nicky.”
    The gardener shot the maid a silencing look. Lucy wondered if he were distracted enough for her to break free again, but she couldn’t leave without Wellington, whom the gardener was clutching like a sack of flour. “I mean the situation. The situation is not what it appears to be.”
    “Wellington and I want to go home.” Lucy kept her voice firm so that it did not betray the fear that knotted her gut. She should never have trusted him. Servants who used the front door. A room that resembled a medieval chamber of horrors. Perhaps they were white slavers. Perhaps  . . .
    The heavy tread of a man’s footsteps sounded on the stairs. “Someone’s coming,” Henny hissed. She darted to the doorway and peered out before turning back toward them. “Lock the door behind you. I don’t want to get thrown out on my  . . . ”
    “Enough.” The gardener silenced her with a sharp motion. “Tell Madame I’ve taken the room, and that I don’t wish to be disturbed.”
    “You, taken this room?” Henny’s grin revealed uneven teeth, the only blemish in her otherwise attractive face. “Madame will never believe it, Nicky.” Henny gave him a saucy wink and left, closing the door behind her. Lucy bristled at the flirtation and despised herself for it. She could only pray that this nightmare would end soon, because her life had gone horribly wrong from the moment this infuriating man had put his head in the way of Lady Belmont’s garden door. She’d thought this might be a temporary sanctuary, but once more, she’d landed in the soup.
    The gardener shoved Wellington into her arms and moved to turn the key in the lock. At the moment, Sidmouth’s thugs didn’t appear so threatening, not compared with the aggravation this man elicited. Perhaps she could imprison him in one of these contraptions and  . . .
    He turned around. “Don’t call me Nicky.” His dark eyes flashed with warning. “I despise that name.”
    “What shall I call you, then?” She cradled Wellington closer, more than willing to offer a few choice suggestions of her own.
    “Call me Nick. Or Nicholas, if you must.” He cast a look of scorn at Wellington. “Ungrateful beast.” Nick circled the hard leather settee in front of the cold marble fireplace. Lucy watched as he sank down on the unforgiving cushion and tried to find a comfortable spot. Remembering his battered head, which must surely ache, she felt a twinge of sympathy for him, but then this rescue was his idea, not hers. He was the one who had landed them in the midst of this chamber of horrors.
    “Where are we?” Lucy would have liked to sit down as well, but the only other chair in the room was a monstrous wooden contraption. She didn’t even want to think about what it might be used for. “This is the strangest house I’ve ever seen.”
    “Shh.” Nick sat