by Princess
Heart pounding with terror and dread, hands shaking, she swung up onto the gelding and rode at a hard gallop all the way to the rusted gates of home and up the dusty, overgrown drive.
Behind the stable, she had the precious half-bucket of water waiting to splash the soot off her horse’s coat. Still no sign of her men. Please, God. I know they’re idiots but they’re all I’ve got. The Gabbianos had been like brothers to her since she was a child, when none of the other little girls wanted to play with her.
She put the horse away, hot but clean, and ran into the house. Maria, the stout old housekeeper, came hurrying to her.
“Get the hiding place ready—the boys will be right behind me!” Dani ordered. The hiding place was a false wall built into the corner of the wine cellar, beneath the ancient villa. “Oh, and fix something to eat—we’ll soon have company.” Experience had taught her that soldiers would believe whatever she told them if she put food in their bellies and ale in their mugs. The fact had saved her hide several times in the past.
As she pounded up the stairs toward her room to make the necessary transformation from outlaw back to genteel-poor lady of the manor, Maria gasped behind her.
“My lady! You are hurt!”
“Never mind that! Just do as I say! We have no time!” Dani hurried down the narrow corridor to her room. At once she closed the curtains against the night air, then pulled off the stifling black mask.
A cascade of wavy, chestnut-red hair tumbled down to her shoulders. With trembling hands, she stripped off her shirt and used more of the precious water to wash her wound. Thankfully, she saw it was no longer bleeding. The sight of her gunshot wound frightened her, but not as much as the terrible realization of whom she’d robbed—whom she’d seen!—as well as the knowledge of what would happen to her men if she allowed Prince Rafael’s soldiers to find them.
With that thought, she stripped off her trousers and wiped the dust quickly from her skin, relishing the cool, wet cloth after her ordeal. She pulled on a chemise, a simple, dreary-beige work-dress, and worn kid slippers, then tied back her hair in a net. She hurried back downstairs and put on an apron, smoothing it as she met Maria in the hall.
“Are they here yet?”
Maria shook her head grimly.
They can’t have gotten caught. “They’ll be here any minute now. I’m sure they will. I’m going to check on Grandfather.”
Willing calm, Dani folded her hands demurely over her stomach, though her heart was still pounding in fright for her friends. She drew a deep breath and walked to her grandfather’s bedroom. He was sleeping, and Maria had left the taper burning, because if Grandfather woke up in the dark, he was wont to start screaming with night terrors.
He, the great Duke of Chiaramonte, who had once stood unflinchingly at the head of an army, now needed to be cared for like a small child. There were days he did not know who she was, yet she found his presence comforting still. He was her only living relative now, and when he died her estates would revert back to the Crown because there was no new male heir—nor would there be one, for she was never getting married.
Never, never would any man be her master.
Standing in the doorway, Dani’s gaze skimmed over her grandfather’s aristocratic profile, the jut of a hard, proud nose, a most distinguished moustache, a lofty, wrinkled forehead. Then she closed the door quietly, went over, and knelt down by his bed, taking his gnarled hand between both of hers.
She laid her head on his hand. Her shoulder hurt so badly. She tried to tell herself that that was the source of the odd pain rising up, twisting in her heart.
Rafael.
Why had he come back? How dare he show his face? she thought in useless, burning fury. What did he want?
An appalling thought struck her. Surely the king had not forgiven him!
She certainly hadn’t.
Prince Charming, she thought in utter bitterness. She would never forgive him. Golden, magnificent Rafael. She would hate him forever and ever, until the day she died.
She had thought she would never see Prince Rafael di Fiore again, and she had never wanted to. She hated him with every fiber of her being. Three years ago, he had single-handedly ruined her life. With a wink and a dazzling smile, he had stepped on her tender heart and smashed it, then just kept on going, like a giant passing.
She wished she had thrust her swordpoint into his neck tonight—well, that would be murder, she amended with a sniffle, and murder was too good for the man who had practically left her standing at the altar.
A shout from outside suddenly broke into her thoughts.
Finally! Thank God they’re all right. She swept away from her grandfather’s bedside and dashed to the window, but then her blood ran cold.
She stared down at the dusty lawn, gripping the window-frame as her knuckles turned white. Mateo, Alvi, Rocco, and little Gianni had made it onto her property, but even now, before her eyes, the thundering pack of soldiers closed in on them, surrounded them, and pulled them down out of their saddles, brawling on her lawn.
One soldier brought the butt of his pistol down on the back of Alvi’s head. Another shoved little Gianni to the ground. She knew the fire-eater, Mateo, would fight them with all he had and likely get himself killed.
Dani whirled away from the window and ran for the door, swearing to herself that Rafael would not take her friends, her brothers, away from her. Aside from Grandfather and Maria, they were all she had. Tearing down the stairway and toward the front door, her heart pounding, she swore to herself on her parents’ graves that he would not have them. He had taken everything else she possessed. He could have even his filthy gold back, but she would not be left all alone in the world by that man again. Her large pride, her whole being, forbade it.
Enraged and reckless, she threw open the door and burst out into the night, eyes blazing, but when she saw them, in her heart of hearts, she knew it was already too late.
Mateo and the others were already being placed under arrest by Prince Rafael’s soldiers.
She saw red. A duke’s daughter, descended from a line as proud and old and nearly as royal as the prince’s own, she stood clenching and unclenching her fists for a second, feeling the blood of generals and commanders surging, warlike, in her veins.
Rafael di Fiore, she thought, this is war.
Then she charged forth with a battle cry. “Let them go!”
By Gaelen Foley
Published by Fawcett Books:
THE PIRATE PRINCE
PRINCESS
PRINCE CHARMING
THE DUKE
LORD OF FIRE
LORD OF ICE
LADY OF DESIRE
DEVIL TAKES A BRIDE
ONE NIGHT OF SIN
HIS WICKED KISS
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A Fawcett Book
Published by The Random House Publishing Group
Copyright © 1999 by Gaelen Foley
Excerpt from Prince Charming by Gaelen Foley copyright © 2000 by Gaelen Foley
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Fawcett Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
Fawcett Books and colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.
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Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 99-90447
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eISBN: 978-0-307-41642-1
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