Читать книгу Not-So-Perfect Princess: Not-So-Perfect Princess - Melissa McClone, Barbara Wallace - Страница 11

TWO HOURS LATER, Jules stood in the walk-in closet in her room. The headlamp she wore illuminated the dark space. She wore sailing clothes two sizes too big, a short, dark wig and a cap. She clutched a map in her left hand. With a steadying breath, she searched for the hidden latch with a trembling right hand.

She’d never disobeyed her father or anyone else for that matter. She’d never come close to doing anything illicit unless you counted eating an entire bag of chocolate in one sitting. But this …

Her heart pounded against her chest.

You’re in experienced hands, Princess.

Alejandro’s words gave her a needed boost of courage.

Jules’s fingers brushed across something. She sucked in a breath. The latch. She pressed the small, narrow lever. Something squealed. She stepped backward. A secret door opened to reveal a staircase.

Her insides quivered with a mix of nerves and excitement and a little fear.

She stood at the threshold and glanced down the pitch-black stairwell. The headlamp illuminated the narrow steps.

Jules ventured forward onto the first step with a slight hesitation. Nerves bubbled in her tummy. She found a latch on the inside of the passageway and closed the secret door.

The steep staircase led to a tunnel that looked as if it had been there for decades, possibly a century or more. She wondered what the tunnel had been used for in the past. Had other princesses used it to escape?

Her feet carried her across a packed dirt floor. Weathered, thick wood beams reinforced the walls and ceiling. The map said the tunnel was two kilometers long. The distance felt longer with the inky shadows stretching out in front of her.

Something gray darted across the floor at the edge of the headlamp beam.

Her breath caught in her throat. She shivered with a sense of foreboding. Nothing like being in an underground tunnel with rodents for companionship.

Not rodents, she corrected. Mice.

“No rats in the palace,” she muttered. “No rats in the palace.”

With the words as her mantra, Jules continued forward. Adrenaline quickened her pace. More creatures scurried across the floor or ran along the walls. Her nerves increased. She wanted out of here. Now.

She came to a wrought-iron gate secured with a combination lock. She pulled the lock toward her and dialed in the digits written on the map: 132823. The lock clicked open.

The sound of freedom.

Jules opened the gate and stepped through with all the excitement of Christmas morning back when she was a child. She exited the tunnel and found herself in a grotto. No one would ever guess inside one of the rocks was a secret tunnel. She memorized the spot where she’d come out.

Following a paved path, her apprehension rose. She had no idea where she was. Insects chirped and buzzed. But she saw no people, no other lights.

Keep going.

Alejandro had planned the outing so she wouldn’t get caught. A good thing, Jules knew. She trusted him for the reason she’d told him. She had no other choice if she wanted to sail. She couldn’t have pulled this off on her own in spite of her bravado on the beach last night.

She continued walking, unable to shake her uneasiness at being out here secluded yet exposed. Not that she was about to turn around. This opportunity was too important.

Being out here alone, without servants, bodyguards, chaperones or family, was something she rarely got to do. She might be fighting nerves, but the experience gave her a little thrill.

The canopy and walls of rocks gave way to a large field of grass with gardens on either side. The moonlight eased some of her anxiety.

The path led her up a rise. She heard the sound of waves crashing against the shore. At the top, she stopped, mesmerized by the sight of the sea. The beach had to be below her somewhere, but she focused on the water. Light from the full moon shimmered like silver on the crests of the waves.

Jules’s breath caught in her throat.

So beautiful.

As she descended the path toward the water, she noticed a light shining. A lone lamppost stood on a short dock with a sailboat moored at the end.

Her pulse rate quadrupled, as did her excitement. She’d found the place without getting lost or caught.

Jules hurried down the path, eager to hop onboard and set sail.

A figure stood in the cockpit of the boat. A man. Alejandro. Her heart gave a little lurch of pleasure.

He waved.

Jules waved back.

Alejandro reached below deck. The running lights illuminated—red on port, green on starboard and white on the stern.

Exhilaration shimmied through her. She could forget about duty and obligation tonight. She could be herself and sail on the ocean like a bird set free from its cage.

With Alejandro.

He motioned for her to join him in the boat.

Shoulders back. Chin up. Smile.

This time it came naturally. No effort required. Jules turned off her headlamp. She no longer needed the light with the lamppost on the dock.

Tingles filled her stomach. She couldn’t imagine sharing tonight with anyone else.

As Julianna walked along the private dock with a clear spring to her step, the tension in Alejandro’s shoulders eased. He’d planned her escape from the palace with the precision of a military operation. His efforts had seemed to work. With one foot in the cockpit and the other on the rail, he waited for her to come to him.

She stopped two feet away from the boat. “Your map was spot-on, Alejandro.”

He liked the way his name rolled off her tongue. She might sound like the same elegant princess he’d met yesterday, but she looked nothing like the woman who had stared down her nose at him, cried in his arms on the beach and prompted him to rename his cat. The disguise had completely changed her appearance.

He looked beyond her to the path leading up to the cliff, but only saw a few trees. Anyone who ventured out here on this late night would be trespassing. He’d picked this secluded spot for that reason. “Were you seen?”

“Not that I know of,” she said. “Though I doubt anyone would recognize me if they saw me.”

A satisfied smile settled on his lips. “You’re right about that.”

Baggy clothes covered Julianna’s feminine curves and round breasts. A short, brown wig and America’s Cup baseball cap hid her luxurious blond hair. With all the makeup scrubbed from her face, no one would mistake the fresh-faced kid for fashion icon Princess Julianna of Aliestle.

“You look like a teenager,” he added.

“A teenage boy,” she clarified. “You picked an excellent disguise for me.”

She sounded appreciative, not upset. That surprised him a little. Most women wouldn’t want to look like a boy. But then again, she hadn’t wanted to get caught. A good disguise had been necessary.

“I had no problems, except Ortiz might want to reconsider his claim about no rats in the palace. I saw mice, and something … larger in the tunnel.”

“Ortiz doesn’t know about the tunnels. Only the royal family knows of their existence and an architect long dead,” Alejandro explained. “The tunnels were built by pirates to hide treasure. When the king had them attached to the palace, a hand-selected crew was used. They were blindfolded and had no idea where they were working.”

“How did the royal family find out about the tunnels?”

He grinned. “Supposedly my great-great-great grandfather was a king and pirate.”