The Princess and the Pauper

by Nancy Bush

  She turned her gaze out the window, thinking of Tasha. They’d never been friends, even when they were classmates at the exclusive private school that most of the Windsor Estates kids had attended before it burned down. Rock Springs High was more of a mixture, and April had been glad to switch. She could do without snobs like Tasha Bennington.

  Three Bears was alive with throbbing engines, car lights and loud chatter. Lance parked to one side, then helped April from the car and over a few dried ruts. In her silk dress and peep-toed shoes she felt totally ridiculous, though no one else had bothered to change, either.

  Heat swirled from the engines, adding to the sultriness of the night. An ice-cold beer bottle was thrust into April’s hand, and Lance half-dragged, half-carried her down the twisting trail that led to the banks of the river. There was no beach; the ground was carpeted with river rock, ghostly white in the moonlight. April pulled off her high heels, watching the foaming water race over a series of large stones. Spying Carrie, she waved her shoes frantically and called out to her, but Carrie was giggling madly and April soon realized she was drunk.

  Could anything be worse? she asked herself, staring up at the thick, black sky.

  “Hey, Tasha!” Lance yelled, lifting his beer bottle in a salute.

  April gritted her teeth and glanced back. Tasha and Spencer were standing at the bottom of the hill. It was clear they were having a major argument. April, feeling a moment of spiteful pleasure, swallowed some of her beer – and spent the next few moments choking. Lance slapped her so hard on the back that she stumbled forward a few paces.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Never better,” she croaked, tears streaming from her eyes.

  “You gotta sip it at first,” he offered by way of instruction.

  “Thanks.” Her wry tone was lost on Lance, who had already crossed the rocks to where Tasha was standing.

  The Pink Carnation Ball queen had the audacity to lay her head on his chest and break into tears. April didn’t know whether to be angry or amused. Deciding that her pride would weather this better if she were amused, she determinedly squelched the flames of resentment and misery licking through her and opted to rise above it all.

  Tipping up the beer bottle, she closed her eyes and ears to everything around her. Her heart slammed in painful, even be against her ribs. Soon it would be over. Soon…

  Two hours later the moon was riding low in the sky, its reflection glittering on the churning river, illuminating the area in frosty gray tones. The party had peaked and only about a dozen people remained. April sat on a large, smooth outcropping of stone, her feet dangling above the water. She lifted her chin and squinted at the sky. The stars grew blurred. Turning her gaze to the bottle in her hand, she realized she’d consumed more alcohol than she’d intended. Lance had made certain she was plied with beer before leaving her.

  How charitable of him.

  April closed her eyes. Maybe she should have been more responsive. Maybe she shouldn’t have accused him of planning to act like a “macho stud trying to score.” Had she actually said that? It sounded so lame now.

  She shuddered, hurting inside. A headache pulsed at her temples, and the thought of taking even one more swallow of beer made her stomach quiver alarmingly. Climbing to her feet, she focused on Tasha and Lance. They were sitting by the water, just talking now, but there was something about the way they looked at each other that made April’s heart squeeze painfully. Seeing her, Lance waved her over, but it was a half-hearted gesture and April turned blindly the other way, disregarding her shoes as she stumbled over the rocks.

  Halfway to the cliff path, she passed Jordan Taylor, who was stretched out on a slab of rock, a happy, drunken smile on his lips. April placed her half-empty bottle of beer on his tuxedoed chest and Jordan wrapped his fingers around it.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled, trying to focus on her face. “Uh, April. I’d make room for you here but as you can see, one of us would fall off.”

  “Have you been expelled?” she asked carefully, having trouble forming the words.

  “Ahh… don’t worry, I’m gonna show ‘em. I’ll show ‘em all.”

  She walked past him barefoot on the pine needle strewn path. She knew just how he felt. She was going to show ‘em all, too.

  Halfway up the trail she realized this wasn’t the way she’d come down.

  Confused, she stopped short. A bramble caught in her hair and she yanked it out. Gathering her silk skirt, she stepped forward and crested the headland at the same moment the moon sailed behind a puff of clouds.

  The night grew black as pitch.

  “Damn, damn, damn.” She heard the teary sound of her own voice and bit hard into her lower lip. Lifting a hand to her forehead, she marched blindly onward. Her toe connected with a stone.

  Her eyes burned. There was nothing to do but wait until it grew light enough to see.

  In the darkness her other senses came alive. Her hair stood on end. Was that another person’s breathing? It felt as if she weren’t alone.

  By the time the moon appeared again, April’s nerves were frayed. The first thing she saw was the rocky beach far below. There was Jordan, passed out cold, and Carrie and Phillip, laughing and tossing water at each other, and Spencer, making a big production of kissing some girl April didn’t even know. Steeling herself, April looked at Tasha and Lance. They were holding hands, staring into each other’s eyes as if they’d never seen each other before.

  A whimper of protest escaped her throat.

  “Didn’t you like the party?” a male voice drawled from somewhere behind her.

  She nearly jumped from her skin. Whipping around, she saw a figure slouched against a motorcycle, and she couldn’t help the short, sharp scream of terror that escaped her.

  Dressed in faded jeans and a black, leather jacket, which creaked as he moved his shoulders in a slow stretch, he added conversationally, “Didn’t think much of it myself.”

  Her heart still galloping, April strained to see him in the shadows. His hair was light – blond maybe, or a very pale brown – and his features were sharply chiseled and surprisingly familiar. He looked like someone she knew or had just met, but for the life of her she couldn’t place him.

  “Who are you?” she demanded. “What are you doing?”

  “Watching.”

  “Watching what? Us?”

  “That’s right.” His smile was hardly a smile at all. “I’m just your average voyeur.”

  He had a way of speaking that made her nervous – a soft, rhythmical cadence that instinct warned her to beware. Briefly she recalled that a serial killer had left bodies in the fields and foothills around the area some ten years earlier; prostitutes from the Portland area, mostly, whose bodies had been dumped in Rock Springs. It was kind of old news, she supposed. Lore now, really, but still… “Well, you’re not going to see much,” she told him. “This is about as good as it gets.”

  “What a shame.” His gaze swept over her and April suddenly saw herself through his eyes – the ivory dress, the orchids, the muddy and cut-up bare feet. She probably looked as pathetic as she felt. “Aren’t you a little overdressed?” he mocked softly.

  Whatever his deal was, he wasn’t a threat, she decided. He was just… not. “I always go to beer busts in a formal.”

  “Really. And what do you wear to Pink Carnation Balls?”

  So he knew where she’d been. April found that more intriguing than alarming. Lifting her chin, she said, “Denim.”

  His lips twitched. “Hmm. So you’re a classmate of Jordan’s,” he said reflectively, his penetrating gaze sweeping the beach below.

  “You know Jordan?”

  “We’ve met. Who are the other people?”

  “Oh, them.” She heaved a sigh, that ended in a soundless laugh. “They’re Rock Spring’s latest graduating class. Want me to introduce you?” Pointing toward the water, she swept on without waiting for an answer. “Over there are Carrie and Phillip. Carrie�
��s my best friend, but she’s absolutely no fun when she’s with Phil. All she wants to do is kiss and flirt and it bores me to tears.”

  “I can imagine,” he put in dryly.

  “Over there, in a lip-lock with that dark-haired girl, whom I don’t know, by the way, is Spencer Tamblin. Spencer is normally Tasha’s steady but tonight he’s, ah, made other arrangements. Tasha is the girl over there by the fir tree—”

  “I know Tasha,” the blond-haired stranger cut in. “I just don’t know who she’s with.”

  April turned to stare at him. Who was he to know Tasha and Jordan and be content to spy on them? With an effort, she pulled her gaze back to Lance. At that very moment he wrapped his fingers around Tasha’s nape and pulled her mouth to his in the kind of kiss April had resisted all year.

  “My date,” she said with difficulty.

  The silence that followed made the bitterness in her tone echo pathetically in her ears. She closed her eyes and didn’t realize the blond-haired man had approached until she felt his breath on her exposed shoulder.

  “And who are you?” he asked.

  Years of training made her hesitate before offering information to a stranger. But then she said, “April Hollis. Who are you?”

  He inhaled swiftly; so he recognized her name. She wasn’t surprised. Half of Rock Springs knew her father owned Hollis’s. She waited for him to make some further response; instead, he took two steps away from her. Even through the numbness of her misery April could sense his sudden aversion.

  “What’s wrong with me being April Hollis?” she demanded aggressively. Her emotions had been bubbling beneath the surface all night and here, at last, was a target to vent them on.

  “Nothing.”

  His tone was purposely bland. She could sense it. Her fists planted on her hips, she glared at him. “Tell me. I want to hear it. What’s wrong with me? What – is – wrong – with – me?”

  With each word she advanced on him; now she thrust out her trembling chin and waited.

  “From where I stand,” he said, “nothing.”

  Amid the dank, woodsy smells of the riverbank, her nostrils picked up this stranger’s own personal scent – a clean, masculine odor that belied his ragged, unkempt appearance. “Who are you?” she asked again, feeling a strange pull on her senses. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

  “I don’t normally hang out with the high school crowd.”

  “So why are you now?”

  He glanced down the slope of the headland, his gaze centering on Jordan’s prone form. “Because I’m being blackmailed,” he said cryptically.

  “I can’t imagine anyone blackmailing you. And you still haven’t told me your name.”

  “Cawthorne.”

  “That’s your first name?”

  “Jesse Cawthorne,” he answered after a moment’s hesitation.

  Somewhere a bell jingled in the dark recesses of her mind, but April couldn’t remember why. “Jesse Cawthorne,” she repeated thoughtfully.

  Below them Jordan suddenly rolled to his feet and stumbled toward the cooler full of beer. April felt Jesse tensed beside her. She slid him a surreptitious look from beneath her lashes, her curiosity piqued in spite of herself. He was blond, she decided. The moonlight shone silvery on his long hair. He must be somewhere in his twenties. Seeing his profile, she also could tell he was handsome, though the stubble on his chin and the stern line of his job seemed designed to conceal that fact.

  He was connected somehow to Jordan Taylor. And to Tasha, she remembered with a lurch of her battered heart.

  Just as suddenly as he appeared, Jesse Cawthorne strode back to his gleaming motorcycle. Alarmed, April asked quickly, “Where you going?”

  “I’m leaving.”

  “Leaving?”

  “Yep.” He swung a leg over the motorcycle. “I’ve seen what I came to see.” He grabbed one of the two helmets strapped to the bike and put it on.

  Though she’d met this man only minutes before, April was suddenly loath to be left on her own. “Don’t leave me.”

  His short bark of laughter might have intimidated another woman. “Leave you?” he repeated slowly. “I don’t know you well enough to leave you.”

  “Then take me with you.”

  The words sprang out before she even realized what she’d said. Just as quickly, however, a denial formed on her tongue. Whatever possessed her to say such a thing!

  Before she could speak again, however, Jesse vehemently shook his head. His heel connected with the starter, and the motorcycle’s engine thrummed and crackled loudly in the still, night air. “Where I’m going, you don’t want to go,” he shouted, turning the motorcycle.

  April raced after him, catching hold of his sleeve. “How do you know?” she demanded breathlessly.

  “I know because your last name is Hollis.”

  Another time she would have let him go in disgust, but not tonight. She didn’t belong at this party and wasn’t going to stay. “Well, I do want to leave with you, and I want to leave right now.”

  “Sorry.”

  She tightened her grip on his leather sleeve and saw displeasure deepen the grooves beside his mouth. “What do I have to do to get you to take me?” she demanded. “Beg?”

  “Look, Princess, I’m not going anywhere near Windsor Estates. It’s not my part of town.”

  So he also knew where she lived. More common knowledge, she supposed. “I don’t care. I don’t want to go home yet.”

  He revved the engine and shook his head once more, but when she refused to let go, he finally lifted a hand in surrender and passed her a second helmet. “Fine. Go ahead, climb on,” he ordered. “But don’t talk. I can’t stand a female who chatters all the time.”

  “Yessir,” she said through her teeth. Clicking on her helmet she gathered up the stained layers of ivory silk, slid one leg over the leather seat, then scooted forward. Her thighs were warm behind his, her pelvis tightly pressed against his low-slung jeans. She was out of her mind and glad. Glad, glad, glad. But she knew there would be hell to pay tomorrow.

  Chapter Two

  Wind streamed past April’s body; it felt cold despite the heat. Her arms were numb and she leaned her helmet against Jesse’s hard back, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. Her ears roared with the noise. Her dress snapped and danced against her legs. Only her nearness to Jesse kept her skirt from riding up to her waist.

  He drove fast, making the motorcycle arc scarily whenever they rounded a corner. April’s heart lurched and pounded. She envisioned herself splattered all over the asphalt. Ivory silk and scarlet blood. She shook inside and held him tighter, her hands grasping tensely beneath his jacket, clutching his T-shirt and the firm skin beneath.

  He half turned her way. “Scared?”

  “No,” she said between gritted teeth.

  She could feel silent laughter shake his chest. His wrist cocked the throttle, and the motorcycle surged forward, revving to a protesting wine. Wind screamed past her. Silently she vowed to murder him as soon as this nerve-shattering ride came to an end. If she lived that long.

  An eternity later they began to slow down. April opened her eyes wide enough to see the area of town they were passing through: ramshackle houses with weedy lawns, tired bicycles tossed into the yards, rusted cars parked on the rutted driveways. Broken fences, litter strewn ditches. Bare yellow light bulbs glowing through dusty windowpanes.

  “Where are we?” April asked.

  “Home,” was the wry reply.

  Jesse turned into the driveway of a tan-colored house whose exterior was badly in need of paint. But someone had cared enough to set out huge wooden barrels spilling over with hyacinths and daphne. Their sweet odor hung in the air like a memory of better times.

  The motorcycle slid to a stop and Jesse dropped one long leg to the ground. April scrambled off. Her arms were icy cold and she shivered. Jesse stripped off his jacket and held it out to her without a word.

  She couldn�
�t read his expression in the dark. What did he expect her to do? Given a few minutes, she would surely warm up.

  She reached for the jacket anyway, sliding her arms into the fleece-lined leather. Its warmth enveloped her. The scent of it assailed her nostrils: deep, musky, masculine. She inhaled gratefully. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.”

  He strode toward the swept front steps, and April followed uncertainly behind. “Are you – we – staying here?”

  “I forgot my wallet. I’ll be right back.”

  She was left standing in the center of the yard wishing she at least had her cell phone that she’d left in Lance’s car. The moonlight revealed sunburned patches of grass and a white, pebbled path that curved around the side of the house. April, who had lived with gardener-pruned hedges and prize-winning rose gardens, was touched by the care someone – Jesse’s mother? – had expended on trying to keep up the little house and yard.

  The door banged shut and moments later Jesse stood beside her once more. “Ready?” he asked nonchalantly, as if having her for a riding partner were the most natural thing in the world.

  April glanced at him, drew a breath and let it out on a small laugh. “You know, maybe, if it isn’t too much trouble, you could take me home. Or back to Three Bears,” she rushed on hurriedly, when he watched her so coolly and silently. “Back to my friends.”

  “Slumming not your style?”

  His words rankled. April glared at him. “I don’t know anything about you, except that you drive like a maniac.”

  “I don’t remember inviting you,” he pointed out.

  “Okay, I deserved that. But I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here!”

  “Come on.”

  He swung a leg over the motorcycle and turned to her expectantly. April who was used to controlling the situation, felt dread rise from a small point somewhere in her lower back. She climbed on behind him, circumspectly keeping a distance between herself and his hard buttocks.