Penelope & Prince Charming Read Free Page B

wondered such a thing. And yet…
    The man looked down at her with eyes of intense blue, and smiled.
    Penelope’s knees went weak. This man knew how to smile. He did not merely lift his lips, he put every ounce of sincerity into it. He could make anyone on the receiving end of that smile happy she’d climbed out of bed in the morning. A girl would get up extra early if she thought she’d have a chance of seeing him smile like that.
    Even better if he smiled from the pillow next to her.
    Penelope jerked her thoughts from that treacherous place. The thoughts had come unbidden, and yet she could not stop them flooding her mind. His large hands in her hair, his smile as he leaned over her in the dark, his kisses on her lips, his voice whispering her name.
    She shivered, hard, and the visions dissolved. But threads of them lingered, leaving her body hot and tight.
    Meagan had crept forward to peer over Penelope’s shoulder. “Who is he?”
    Penelope had no idea. She’d spent three seasons in London and had never seen anything like him. She’d have remembered him.
    And yet, she suddenly had the strangest feeling she did know him. Some thought deep inside her mind clicked, as though it were, well, satisfied.
    The man bowed from the waist. “Good afternoon, ladies.”
    His voice was low and rich, his English just accented enough to send another shiver down Penelope’s spine.
    “Oh,” Meagan breathed happily. “He’s foreign.”
    “Meagan, do not be impolite,” Penelope said, her own voice strangled.
    “‘Tisn’t impolite. It is a fact.”
    The man’s smile widened. Both girls heaved a little sigh.
    “Do you know a house called Ashborn Manor?” he asked.
    “Of course we do,” Meagan answered brightly. “We’ve just come from there.” She pointed. “It is that way.”
    “Excellent.” He sounded as though her answer was the most important news in the world to him. “Will you show me?”
    Panic worked its way into Penelope’s throat. “We do not know you, sir,” she began, but at the same time Meagan said, “Of course.”
    He chuckled as they glared at each other. His laughter was a low, silken sound. “I wish to reach the house before my entourage finds me. Will you ride with me?”
    He looked straight at Penelope. Or maybe he did not. Meagan was standing nearly on top of her.
    “You must, Penelope.” Meagan giggled. “I am afraid of horses.”
    Meagan stepped away, leaving Penelope alone in front of the large horse and the man’s devastating smile.
    He held out his hand. “Please. I would be most grateful.”
    He bent a little in the saddle, stretching his hand to her. Ride away with me, his eyes said. Just for a little while.
    Against her wishes, Penelope imagined sitting on the horse with him, his strong arms surrounding her and keeping her safe. They would canter off to lands unknown, and he’d feed her strawberries, following them with kisses as gentle as snowflakes.
    Her vision took them to a meadow, where she’d lie on the grass and he’d loosen her bodice, leaning to kiss her bared shoulder.
    She gasped, stunned by the thoughts that kept invading her mind. His blue eyes twinkled as though he’d put the thoughts into her head himself, and knew what they did there.
    Meagan was saying, “He is quite courteous. I vow, Pen, I do not know how you can refuse when he puts it so nicely.”
    “Because we do not know him,” Penelope said weakly.
    “Oh, Penny, where is the harm?”
    Penelope took a deep breath. “I still don’t think—”
    Meagan grabbed her sleeve, dragged her a few steps away, and began whispering furiously. “If you do not wish to make his acquaintance, you are plain mad. He is the handsomest man I’ve ever seen in my life, and he’s obviously rich—and foreign. We should show him that English people are hospitable, should we not?”
    “Yes, but—”
    Meagan did not give her a chance. “Think upon this, Pen. He’s bent upon visiting the house. Right now. What do