The Princess and the Pauper (27 page)

Glowering, she demanded, “Who
are
you?
”

He was clothed in formal eveningwear, fine
black dress coat and trousers. He had a low, white waistcoat
revealing a plaited shirt and black necktie. She dropped her eyes
to his feet, assessed his leather boots with short heels. Top
quality, she mused. He appeared a gentleman.

“
Do I meet with your
approval?”

Brash, wasn’t he? Over the years, her
title as the “iron maiden” had intimidated most men. A few arrogant
chaps still wooed her—with unfortunate consequences—but most dared
not approach her.

The stranger dared,
however.

“
What are you doing here,
sir?”

“
I’ve come to get my heart
broken.”

A slow shiver rolled down her spine,
like tiny spiders creeping over her vertebrae. It was the brisk
breeze nipping at her flesh, she concluded. She was unmoved by his
confession, the stark honesty in his words.

“
You
want
your heart broken?”

“
I like pain.”

He had a smooth, deep voice. Steely, even.
He wasn’t easily aroused, she sensed. She had not confronted such
poise, such assertion in ages. Or such audacity.

She girded her muscles as an unbidden heat
entered her belly, a warm sensation akin to a tipple of fine red
wine. She resisted the sentiment with grit. The handsome devil
wasn’t going to break her iron front with a few brassy, whispered
words . . . and yet he commanded her attention with his dark brown
eyes, hooded under a pair of soot-black brows. He had the gaze of a
predator, pointed and unflinching. Sensual lips, though. A true
Bohemian.

Humbug!

Her brain sticky with drink,
she
gathered
her tangled thoughts until she spotted Jules and Winifred across
the ballroom. The zany couple giggled and winked at her. And she
gasped as she remembered their promise:

“
We’ve arranged a special
surprise for you.”

Luc
y regarded the stranger again, and her
eyes rounded. Soon the sensational truth rooted in her mind. He was
her birthday gift.
He
was her birthday gift. The untoward flirtation, the brazen
conduct. He wasn’t a
real
gentleman. He was her “special
surprise.”

She grabbed her whirling thoughts, lassoed
them like a cowboy from the American West. It was such a scandalous
“gift,” even from an eccentric pair like Jules and Winifred. Wholly
tempting, though. He was a divine creature. Tall. Over six feet. He
had broad shoulders, a sinewy frame, but he wasn’t fat or heavily
muscled like a dockside worker. There was grace in his carriage,
true elegance.

She observed his fine lips, so kissable.
He quirked his mouth in a mysterious fashion, as if he was keeping
a delightful secret from her. There was a bump on the bridge of his
otherwise well-proportioned nose, and she wondered if it’d been
broken in the past. Smooth skin. Good. She loathed whiskers. The
facial hair scratched like claws. Strong, prominent cheekbones.
Dark eyes. Such dark eyes. And thick, short lashes. Black. He had
long hair, too. Slightly wavy. It gathered at his earlobes.
Unconventional. And, oh, so tempting.

She didn’t fight the heat in her belly
anymore. She allowed the prickly warmth to spread through her veins
until it singed her toes and ears.

“
I do not break hearts in
public.” She smiled. “It’s impolite.”

His upper lip twitched, ever so
slightly. “I will meet you in the garden.”

“
Wait.” She lifted the fan
to her mouth, burning with curiosity. “What is your
name?”

“
Wilde.”

Wild, indeed.

He stalked away, and she admired his
physique as he dipped between the couples with suave strides. Her
brother returned with the tea. She waited a few tactful minutes,
swigged the icy drink, then excused herself from his
company.

In defiance of propriety, she abandoned
the party and sneaked through the ballroom doors in pursuit of Mr.
Wild.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Alexandra Benedict is the author
of several historical romances published by Avon Books. She also
writes fiction as an Indie Author. Her work has received critical
acclaim from
Booklist
and a starred review from
Publishers
Weekly
. All of her books are translated
into various languages. For more information visit:
www.AlexandraBenedict.ca

Alexandra also writes young adult
fantasy fiction with a romantic twist under the pen name Alex
Benedict. Don’t miss her debut
So Down I
Fall
—A dark re-imagining of
The Little Mermaid
. To
learn more visit:
www.AlexBenedict.ca