Free Princess Annie by Linda Lael Miller

Rafael looking on, embarrassed her mightily.
    He must have guessed at her dilemma, for he smiled a slight and secret smile, belonging only to him. Annie would have appreciated a few moments to compose herself, but he did not have the good grace to avert his eyes for even that long.
    She turned to look out over the turbulent gray waters of the lake. It did seem enchanted, as Phaedra had always claimed it was. Annie wouldn’t have been surprised to see a mermaid rise out of the ripples to sun herself on one of the large rocks near the shore.
    As far as she could tell, the lake was completely encircled by the dense, fragrant forest. It reminded her of the Puget Sound country, and for a moment she was wildly homesick for Quade’s Harbor and the sprawling tangle of family thriving there.
    “Sometimes I think this is the only peaceful place in all the world,” Rafael said, his voice low and roughened slightly by sorrow.
    Annie was anxious to reassure him. “Oh, no,” she protested, nearly grabbing hold of his arm in her earnest desire to convince him, but catching herself just in time. “There are so many others—the countryside surrounding the town where my grandparents live, in Washington State, has great, towering trees and meadows where sweetbrier grows. And there’s the island—why, it might have been the Garden of Eden, it’s so lovely!”
    Tenderness flickered in Rafael’s eyes as he regarded her, and Annie could not believe he was the same man who fenced with such ruthless determination to win, the very man who would not allow his own sister to choose her husband. “But that’s your world, Annie,” he said. “This”—he gestured toward the keep, rising against the ominously clouded sky, and the troubled lands beyond—“is mine.”
    Annie left the mare to nibble sweet grass and made her way toward the lakeshore. Once again, she was trying not to weep, for Rafael’s words filled her with sadness and frustration.
    “You could leave,” she blurted, watching the lake through a sheen of tears.
    She felt him standing close behind her. “No. And as the daughter of a sea captain, you should understand the reason.”
    Annie dried her eyes on the sleeve of her riding jacket, in what she hoped was a subtle motion, then sucked in a deep and somewhat sniffly breath. “Oh, yes,” she said tartly, not daring to look back at Rafael. “A captain goes down with his ship. And you mean to perish with Bavia. Well, I think that’s insane!”
    Rafael crouched beside her, and still she could not look at him. “Americans generally don’t understand these things,” he said. “It’s a matter of tradition, Annie, and of honor. Though I have many enemies, I also have a number of loyal subjects. I cannot simply abandon them to their fate. I must stand with them.”
    Annie did understand, although she would have preferred it to be otherwise. She looked down at her knotted hands. “I still think you’re mad,” she insisted.
    He chuckled and took her hand. “Come, Annie. I want to show you the inside of the cottage. Besides, in case you’ve failed to notice, it’s about to rain.”
    The closing of his fingers around hers accelerated her heartbeat and caused a warm spill somewhere deep inside. Even though she knew it wasn’t proper, she allowed him to raise her to her feet and lead her toward the little cottage.
    They were still some distance away when the sky opened up and a hard, spattering rain began to fall, flattening the tall grass, slapping the surface of the lake, and drenching their clothes. The mare and gelding nickered and fretted.
    “Go inside!” Rafael shouted, over the roar of the deluge, flinging Annie in the direction of the little house. “I’ll see to the horses.”
    She obeyed without question and was relieved when the door latch worked on the first try. A flash of lightning filled the room with fiery light, followed by a deafening clap of thunder, and Annie dashed to the window to see Rafael