Free The Pirate Prince by Gaelen Foley Page A

infected all Italy like a disease, a fever of madness. The islands were plagued with it worst of all, Sicily, Corsica, and Ascencion. Though King Alphonse was all but worshipped here, no one seemed to remember or care that he had made a law against the practice twenty years earlier.
    Glancing toward the palazzo, she saw that all the windows were still bright. She wondered what Papa was going to have to say about all this. She only knew he would not let the news of her kidnapping leak out among the guests.
    Domenic had probably been discovered by now and carried in to see the doctor, she thought. Probably had told Papa a lot of lies about how it all happened, making himself appear blameless, then staggered back to the mistress.
    Near the gate towers, the rebel turned to gaze down at her in silence for a long moment, with a strange, feverish look of pain in his dark, soulful eyes. He stared at her so long, she thought he was going to lower his beautiful mouth and kiss her. Instead he drew her into his arms, turning her gently so her back was pressed close against his front. Then he slid his left arm around her belly. Still she did not protest.
    “Allegra,” he murmured, and she trembled at the deep, hungry heat of his voice. She closed her eyes as his fingers lightly brushed her neck, smoothing all her hair forward over one shoulder. The accidental caress made her fleetingly so weak she had to lean back slightly against him just to keep her balance.
    When she did, he paused. She could feel his restraint in every powerful muscle that surrounded her.
    “Does your ankle still hurt?”
    “Just a little,” she whispered breathlessly.
    He was very still, and then he caressed her deliberately. All her awareness seemed focused where he put his fingertips on the side of her neck just beneath her ear, running them lightly, slowly down the curve of her neck to her shoulder.
    Her skin felt acutely sensitive and soft wherever he touched her, as if it were newly made silk being unfurled for a master weaver’s touch. She shivered uncontrollably and felt his pulse quicken in answer against her body. His mighty heart raced, and she ached to know his real name.
    His fingers rounded her shoulder, coming down the back of her arm to her wrist. When he slipped his fingers into her hand for a moment, she clasped them lightly.
    “Allegra,” he breathed, “I am so sorry for what I must do.”
    “It’s all right,” she murmured, eyes closed, her head against the taut, supple cushion of his breast while she drifted in the spell he’d cast on her. He removed his callused fingers from her gentle grasp, trailing his hand up her arm.
    She was still savoring the feel of him against her when she heard a small, metallic click.
    She opened her eyes just as the stranger lifted the silver muzzle of a pistol and set it against her temple, gentle as a kiss.
    She froze in his arms. “What are you doing? Oh, dear God.”
    “Easy, chérie ,” he said as he walked her out into the open toward the tower door. “Just be still, do as I say, and nothing unpleasant will happen.”
    Men saw them and ran toward them, but Lazar ordered them to stay back. They obeyed.
    “Now, knock on the door,” he murmured to her. “When they answer, announce yourself.”
    She didn’t move.
    “Allegra.”
    “I can’t,” she squeaked. “I’m too scared.”
    “You can do it, chérie ,” he said, staring down the nervous soldiers.
    “Stop calling me that! How can you call me that when you’ve got a gun to my head?”
    She began to cry. He told himself that was good; it would add to the effect. But it made him feel desolate.
    “I hate you for this!”
    “Come on, honey. You can do it,” he said softly. “I’m not going to hurt you. We have to get these soldiers out of the way, that’s all.”
    “D-do you promise?”
    “I swear,” he whispered.
    “A-all right.” Her whole little body shaking against him, she stepped forward and pounded on the massive,