The Dream Thief by Shana Abe Read Free Book Online Page B

and
dazzled as all the other fools encircling her.
    But the other part of him was
still a bastard outlaw in a room full of unknown risks. It was this part that
snapped his jaw closed and sent the blood back into his heart. He leaned
forward without a word to anyone, took her hand, and yanked her to her feet.
    The dandies fell back, agog. A
few of the younger men began to protest, but Zane only offered a nod to the
woman she’d called Marie and pulled Amalia with him to a small, un-crowded
space by a side table laden with plated raspberries and crystal bowls shining
with punch. He glanced around to ensure they were alone, then glared down at
her.
    “What
the hell are you doing here?”
    She’d made no protest to his
forced march across the ballroom; when she answered him, her voice was calm.
“The same as you, I imagine.”
    “You’re supposed to be in
school!”
    She tipped her head and
smiled—another shock, because it was definitely a woman’s smile, both sensual
and faintly amused. “It was finishing school.” She freed her hand from his and
slid it slowly down the cinched curve of her waist. “Well…I’m finished.”
    “Good God,” he said at last, for
lack of anything better.
    “Merci,” she murmured. “C’est très
gentil.”
    A maidservant approached the
table, bobbed a curtsy at them before beginning to ladle the punch into cups.
Zane took Lia by the elbow and turned her away again.
    “Was it
you who sent the invitation?” he demanded.
    “Yes.”
    “Then
who is this Comte du Abony?”
    “He is the gentleman hosting this
very fine ball. I’m having such a splendid time.” Her smile widened, just a
little. “We never have balls at home. I can’t imagine why.”
    “Well, you can bloody well ask
them yourself when you get back there. Let’s go.”
    “No,” she said, still very calm,
and put a step between them. “I’m afraid I’m not leaving yet. Not the ball, and
not the country. And if you wish to be so imprudent as to force the issue,
Zane, you’ll discover I ’ve made quite a few friends in my time here. Do
release my arm. People are starting to gawk.”
    He felt it without looking up,
the pockets of whispers beginning to rise around them, the many eyes. He
dropped his hand, returning her smile with a razored one of his own, and at
least had the satisfaction of seeing her confidence falter, a swift lowering of
her lashes before she gazed back at him again.
    “I want you to understand
something,” he said, his lips barely moving. “I don’t know why you’re here. I
don’t care. I’m not going to be responsible for a chit of a girl who takes it
in her head to run off whenever the moon is blue, or the stars align, or
whatever your reason this time may be. I’ve come for a very specific purpose,
and I don’t like surprises. I find your presence here—offensive.”
    “I’m not a chit of a girl,” she
said, her smug expression vanished. “Not any longer.”
    “No, you’re a lady now,
clearly,” he sneered, with a deliberate glance at her décolletage.
    The pink
of her cheeks began to darken. He pressed his advantage.
    “So now, if you don’t mind, we’ll
be departing. We will return to wherever you are staying and pack your things.
In the morning you can start home.”
    “Actually,” she took another step
away from him, “I do mind. I’m not going home.”
    He regarded her for a long, tense
moment, just long enough so that her blush deepened another shade and the pulse
in her throat began to quicken. By the dim light of the ballroom she was truly
beyond lovely, ruby and snow and those amazing dark eyes. Five years had passed
since he’d last seen her, five years and a world of experience, it seemed. She
looked like her mother and her father and no one else on earth, a being of
clouds and stone-cold sorcery, poured into a very tight gown.
    Against
his will he caught the scent of her: not perfume but something more subtle, the
air and the sun and winter roses.