The Princess and the Pauper by Alexandra Benedict Read Free Book Online Page A

When she hesitated, he placed his hands on her
shoulders and pushed her down into the seat.
    The heat from her flushed skin very nearly
scorched his fingers, and he jerked his hands away. Her lavender
scent rose up to seduce him, wrapped around him even as he stepped
away and retrieved one of the many violins.
    He handed her the
instrument. An edge in his voice, he said, “Play.”
    She eyed him, puzzled.
    “ Play for me.”
    At length , she took the violin.
    G rey turned down the gas lamps until a soft
glow remained in the room, then settled in an upholstered winged
chair, facing her.
    She held the instrument for a time as if
unsure what to do with it. Had she forgotten how to play? But soon
she lifted the violin to her chin.
    When bow connected with string,
the sound that came fo rth set off a storm in his soul. She had not
forgotten how to play, the opposite in truth, the music more
powerful than he remembered. And as more notes followed and a
melody formed, he was wracked with pain and sorrow and anger. Loss,
too. The loss of his grandfather. The loss of her.
    The loss of himself.

CHAPTER
4
     
    Emily slowly opened her eyes and
looked through the window at the grey morning light. She smiled as
her hazy vision cleared and hugged the crisp white pillow. How she loved
to sleep and dream. But Papa would expect her for breakfast so she
sighed and pushed off the comfortable bed.
    Her chemise, twisted around her
legs, fluttered to the ground. She walked over to the large window, almost as
tall as herself, and gazed out at the industrious city, every
rooftop piping smoke. Her hands went to her arms and she rubbed
them, shrinking the gooseflesh, wondering where she had left her
robe.
    As she turned around, she noticed a figure
in a chair and started. The man was slouched in the seat, his shirt
half opened, his unruly locks tousled across his brow. Dark eyes
watched her with sharp focus, and her smile faded away.
    “ Rees.”
    Her world turned on its ear and she
remembered everything—that Papa was not waiting for her in the
morning room, that Papa was dead, and Rees now owned
her.
    “ It’s almost
noon ,” he
said in a tempered voice, his features inscrutable.
    Since boyhood , he had guarded his heart from
her. It was only when he played the violin he unleashed his true
feelings. He couldn’t contain them, then. But there was no
instrument between them now, and she couldn’t imagine his
thoughts.
    Her heartbeat quickened. “Is it noon? I
can never tell when I’m in Town. It’s always so grey.”
    “ Did you sleep
well?”
    She glanced at the bed and the rumpled
sheets, then back at him. He had stayed in the chair all night and
let her sleep and sleep and sleep. Had he watched her dream the
entire time?
    “ I did,” she returned,
flustered.
    She wasn’t sure why she had slumbered so
well, not when her circumstances hadn’t improved. She had hoped to
take refuge with an unknown gentleman, but Rees was her pan, her
fairytale musician, her greatest secret. And deepest regret. How
she’d managed to sleep a wink was a wonder, and she could only
assume exhaustion was the cause.
    “ Are you hungry?” he asked.
    “ Famished.”
    Her hands
ached , too,
and she flexed her fingers.
    Rees suddenly lifted from the chair and
approached her. Where there had once been a rough tenderness in his
manner, there was now a virile, even predatory charge in the air.
And she was the prey.
    She stepped back, heart racing, and
bumped into the window.
    He stilled.
    She ha d never shied away from him in the
past, but so much had changed—he had changed —and she could only
guess his intentions toward her, all of them unpleasant.
    After an indecisive moment, he
advanced again until his six foot frame loomed over her. He reached
for her wrists and pulled them down. Her fingers splayed, revealing
blisters.
    “ You haven’t played for a long
time.”
    He held her firmly, his thumbs
pressing over her frantic pulses, and she shivered at the