by Maya Banks
She took up position beside him and awaited his signal. They both thrust their shoulder upward. The wood gave way and a wave of cold air burst through shocking her with its ferocity. Unable to control the shiver that racked her body, she braced herself for the raw night air.
He pulled himself up through the opening and moments later extended his hand down to her. “It’s safe.”
She grasped his hand and he easily pulled her up to stand beside him. As her thinly clad feet made contact with the icy ground, she winced. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut in.
“We don’t have much time. We can talk later. For now we must get to safety.”
She wouldn’t argue with that logic.
With a furtive glance in all directions, he took her hand and pulled her behind him as they started down the darkened alleyway. “Stay close to me at all times,” he warned. “This isn’t the time or the place to launch any objections.”
She nodded her assent.
Within minutes, her feet, in her too small boots, began to grow numb as the cold invaded her limbs.
He paused a moment and looked back at her, his voice soft with concern. “Can you make it?”
Gritting her teeth in determination she said, “Don’t worry about me. I can make it. Let’s just go.”
After an hour, the earl slowed his pace. “We’ve only a short time before daybreak. They’ll be looking for us.”
“Who exactly is they?” she asked, wincing as her feet screamed at her for relief.
He whirled around to face her. “Do you think I know?”
She could barely make out his features in the dark, but she knew his eyes were blazing. Anger emanated from him in distinct waves. For a long moment, she stared at him. “No,” she said softly.
“Well, that’s something. Now come on, we’ve but a few short blocks left.”
“Where are we going?”
He ignored her and continued his grueling pace. Just when she was convinced she could go no farther, he stopped in front of a run-down building. Pulling her inside, he shut the door and locked it. Then he walked into what appeared to be the kitchen and opened the pantry. He gestured for her to follow.
Once again she found herself inside a passageway as they traveled down a set of stairs. After fumbling in the dark for several long seconds, they entered a larger room where he lit an oil lamp.
Grateful to be off her abused feet, she sank into a tattered sofa. She gathered a nearby blanket and wrapped it around her shivering body. “Where are we?”
“Somewhere safe.”
She watched as he started a fire in the old stove sitting in the corner. Then he stood up and walked over to where she sat. “Let me see your feet.”
“They are fine,” she said, pulling them further underneath her.
“Look, Princess, you are not much use if you can’t walk. We need to warm them.”
“Please. Call me Isabella,” she said softly.
“All right, Isabella.” He said her name cautiously, but she loved the way it rolled off his tongue. His British accent gave her name a sensual tone she was drawn to.
He gently pulled the boots from her feet, and after a disgusted look at the worn soles, tossed them to the side. He took her feet in his warm hands, and she closed her eyes as he began massaging them. Exquisite pleasure mixed with fatigue washed over her in an overwhelming wave. It had been longer than she could remember since she had slept. Really slept.
As he continued rubbing her feet, icy pin pricks assaulted her soles. She let out an involuntary groan as the feeling came back with a vengeance.
“It will only last a moment,” he said reassuringly.
To her amazement, he brought up her feet and planted them against his chest, wrapping his arms around them. His warmth crept into her legs and up her body, encompassing her completely. A peculiar tingle raced up her spine, raising the hair on her neck.
She struggled to loosen his hold on her legs. “I’m all right now,” she said hastily, drawing her legs back underneath her. She’d experienced no personal contact since her family’s death, and the earl’s attention struck a powerful need within her. Something she had no desire to examine in her current situation.
He dropped his hands to his sides and rocked back on his heels. “I don’t like to admit it, but I think you may have been right,” he said in a low voice.
Her eyes widened and she stared curiously at him.
“No one could have known where you were so quickly.”
She shivered and not from the cold. Anger burned brightly in his eyes, making him appear menacing. And very, very dangerous.
“The question is why,” she murmured. “What could England possibly have to gain?”
She resisted the urge to slip her hand into her shirt to feel for the map. It was still there. She could feel it against her cold skin. The fewer people who knew of its existence the better, and she had yet to discern the earl’s role in the whole affair.
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out,” he said in a determined voice. “For now we wait.”
“For what?”
“Not what, whom. Kirk will be here in a few hours.”
“Who is Kirk, how does he know where to find us, and more importantly why are you trusting him?”
“We are the only two who know of this hiding place. When he arrives at my house in the morning and finds the bodies, he’ll know where to look for me.”
She paused for a moment, not at all sure she wanted to know the answer to her next question. “If…if the English crown is involved, what do we do then?”
“That’s a good question, Isabella. One I don’t have the answer to…yet.”
Chapter Five
It was an hour past dawn, and still no sign of Kirk. Simon paced softly, stopping periodically to check his timepiece. He glanced over at the sleeping princess. She was huddled underneath the thin blanket, her head resting on the arm of the sofa. It had taken every ounce of his persuasion to convince her to rest while he kept watch, and finally, her eyes had fluttered closed.
Even after he saved her from her attackers, she didn’t fully trust him. While it irked him, he could understand her reticence. In her position, he wouldn’t likely trust anyone either. But he admired her tenacity. She was unlike any woman he had ever met.
And indeed, it appeared that she had considerable skills in fending off unwanted attackers. How else could she have escaped the two men in the bedroom? Her confidence in the hallway as she calmly gave him directions on which man to take down was no show. She clearly knew the odds were in her favor.
Not for the first time since her attack, he cursed himself for not taking greater care. Her assertion that the English crown was behind the plot to murder her had fallen on deaf ears. Until now. If she had been killed, he would have only had himself to blame for being so lax in his care of her. But it wouldn’t happen again.
He moved closer to her still form and slowly dropped his hand down to rest on her head. She had been very near collapse when they arrived at their hiding place. It had likely been several nights since she had last slept.
His fingers slipped into the satin mass of her hair. He traced a strand over her shoulder, enjoying the smoothness over his rough skin.
His gaze slid to the collar of her shirt, unbuttoned from her throat as if she’d sought relief from the strict confines of the material. He watched the soft rise and fall of her chest, the swell of her breasts pushing upward, providing a tantalizing glimpse. God Almighty, she had evidently bound her breasts as part of her ludicrous disguise. He would have noticed such a stunning display of femininity before. There was no doubt in his mind.
Milky white skin, unmarred by a single flaw peeked out behind the material of the shirt. He itched to touch it, to see if it felt as silky as it looked.
She was trouble of the first order. She made him examine thoughts best left unconsidered. Made him feel emotions, dangerous emot
ions, that he hadn’t experienced before. Emotions that had the power to strip away the protective layers of his soul.
How could one tiny slip of a woman bring to the surface the barrage of loneliness he hadn’t allowed himself to feel since he was a young boy desperate for his father’s approval? He’d long since closed the door on needing anyone. Self-reliance was an important trait he’d learned early in life. The hard way. By closing himself off from others, he gave no one the power to hurt him again. And he aimed to keep it that way.
He turned away from the sleeping princess, his hand trailing reluctantly from her hair. Discomfiting was the thought that if he allowed himself to become invested in her welfare, he could well open the door to just such hurt.
He would do his duty. He took immense pride in his profession. He would see the princess safely ensconced on the throne, but he would not allow himself to feel anything more than compassion for her losses.
A sound in the corridor startled him from his thoughts. He cursed his lack of attention and reached for the knife hidden in his boot. His untoward thoughts about the princess must be schooled if he was going to keep them alive. He hurried over to the doorway and waited with bated breath as the intruder shuffled closer.
Moments later, three short knocks sounded followed by one then three more. He let out his breath and cautiously opened the door. Kirk hurried in and shut the door behind him.
“I was worried,” he said glancing around the room.
“We’re safe. For now,” Simon said grimly.
Kirk shoved a small basket at him. “Thought you could use some food. Where’s the princess?”
Simon gestured over his shoulder then placed a finger to his lips.
“What the hell happened?” Kirk demanded in hushed tones. “I arrived at your house to find two dead bodies and an ailing butler.”
“Is Timmons all right?”
“He’s fine. Was cleaning up the carnage. Looked like hell though. Now tell me, who were the men?”
“I don’t know,” Simon replied darkly.
He rummaged in the basket and selected a small piece of bread. The rest he would save for Isabella. Laying aside the remainder of the food, he stared back up at Kirk. “We have a problem.”
Kirk raised an eyebrow. “Well, that much is obvious. But do continue.”
“Isabella has reason to believe that the regent wishes her dead. I didn’t believe her…until now.”
Kirk’s face became a mask of shock. “Surely you aren’t suggesting—”
“I’m not sure what I’m suggesting,” he broke in. “But this isn’t the first time Isabella has been set upon since her arrival in England. The first time was after she received word from the regent to meet his envoy. The second was last night.” It crossed his mind that he fully accepted her accounting. His instinct told him she was being truthful though.
He paused to let his words sink in then fixed Kirk with a pointed stare. “The men arrived just hours after the regent was informed of Isabella’s whereabouts.”
Kirk ran a hand through his hair then swore. “Why weren’t we told she was definitely in England if the regent knew? We were the ones who first suggested she might be here after we found the prince’s body in Harwich.”
“Good question,” Simon murmured.
“This is a disaster, Merrick. What are we going to do?”
“I’ve thought of little else all night. We cannot remain here. That much is certain. They will be looking for us.”
Kirk nodded then his expression became troubled. “Perhaps we should consider that England is behind the assassinations.”
Simon shook his head as if his vehemence could bend reality. “No. I cannot entertain such a thought. I won’t.”
Kirk looked as pained as Simon felt. There must be other forces at work. He wouldn’t entertain that his own government would be behind something so reprehensible. He needed to see the Duke of Ardmore immediately. Besides Kirk, he was the only man Simon trusted completely. He was the man who had recruited Simon, and the man who always gave Simon his assignments. He must know more about Leaudor he could share with Simon.
He glanced over at Isabella and then back at Kirk. “I want you to stay with Isabella and make sure she goes no where.”
Kirk gave him a startled look. “Where are you going?”
“I need to make arrangements for our travel.” As he spoke, his gaze drifted to Isabella. “I need to remove her from London as quickly as possible until we plot our next course. I need time to question her.”
Kirk nodded. “The old hunting lodge would be best. Once you decide your next move, leave me a message there. I won’t be far behind.”
Simon smiled slightly. Kirk knew him well. “I’ll return quickly.”
“Be careful. And hurry back. We won’t be safe here long.”
Simon saluted and ducked out of the doorway.
* * *
Isabella came awake in an instant, cursing herself for falling asleep. She sat up, glancing quickly around for Merrick. When she saw a man standing across the room, his back to her, her hackles immediately rose.
As quietly as possible, she eased from her perch on the couch. She froze when he turned around.
“Ahh, you’re awake.”
She backed warily away, her every muscle prepared to defend herself. “Who are you and where is Merrick?”
He held out his hands in a placating manner. “My name is Adam Kirkland, Kirk as I am known to most.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Where is he?” she asked again.
“He’s gone out for awhile. He should be back shortly. He asked me to stay with you, keep you safe until he returns.”
She studied his face, looking for any sign of deception, but like Merrick, she found nothing but steely resolve. Though not as impressive in stature as Merrick, he was clearly a man able to fend for himself.
Light brown hair, closely trimmed, rested just above his collar. His blue eyes, unlike Merrick’s dark, brooding ones, seemed to sparkle with a natural charm. As if aware of her scrutiny, he flashed a wide smile, bearing slightly crooked teeth.
“If you are through with your inspection, Your Highness, perhaps you would like to eat.”
He reached down and picked up a basket off the small table and held it out to her.
With trembling fingers, she took it from him and looked inside. “How do I know you haven’t poisoned it?” she asked suspiciously.
He laughed. “Poisoning is such a messy ordeal. Not very quick or pleasant. If I had wanted to kill you, I would have simply slit your throat while you slept.”
Her hand flew to her neck, and she rubbed and massaged repetitively. He had a point. Slowly her gaze dropped to the basket, and she moved across the room, farther away from him, to examine the contents more thoroughly.
Her stomach growled as she caught sight of the bread, cheese and leg of chicken. Attempting to act as if she had a measure of decorum, she squelched the urge to devour the food in one bite and tried to pick delicately at the offering.
Her fingers trembled and shook as she tore a small piece of bread and raised it to her mouth. Her earlier dinner, while tasty, was a distant memory in the shadow of so many missed meals.
As she licked her thumb, she glanced back up at Kirk, who was regarding her with amusement. She held his stare, refusing to back down until he finally turned away. She quickly consumed the rest of the portion she had set aside for herself and neatly wrapped the remainder for Merrick.
“What time is it?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest.
“Nearly noon,” he replied without turning around.
She moved back to the couch and slipped underneath the blanket she had slept on. The room had chilled considerably, and her feet felt like solid blocks of ice.
“My apologies,” Kirk said in a contrite voice. “I should have tended the fire. My mind has been occupied by other matters.”
“Such as
?” she asked, watching as he placed more coal in the stove.
He chuckled. “Pumping me for information, Princess?”
He shut the stove door with a clang and turned back to her, his eyes twinkling devilishly. “I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.”
“Did Merrick leave you here to question me?” she demanded.
“You don’t trust anyone, do you?” He shook his head. “Merrick risked his life for you. If we wanted you dead, you would be lying six feet under the ground at this very moment.”
“Don’t lecture me,” she hissed. “I have good reason not to trust anyone.”
They were interrupted by a series of knocks on the door. Kirk yanked the door open and Merrick ducked in. Merrick immediately looked around the room and stopped when his gaze lighted on her.
He dropped a burlap sack over the back of the sofa. “I brought you some things,” he said. “Put them on. We must be on our way.”
She stood rapidly, a million questions rushing to her lips.
He held up a hand. “I’ll explain as soon as you are dressed.”
Nonplussed, she closed her mouth and reached down for the sack. She dug out a clean pair of breeches and a shirt as well as a heavy coat and hat. But her greatest delight was a pair of fur lined boots. After suffering the shoddy pair Merrick had discarded, she couldn’t wait to thrust her feet into the new pair.
She collected the garments and looked hastily around for a discreet place to change. Merrick cleared his throat then gestured toward a dimly lit corner. He motioned for Kirk to turn around, following suit immediately after.
Her gaze never left the two men as she eased into the corner. She positioned herself behind a ragged armchair, the only item to afford her a modicum of modesty and quickly went about changing her clothes.
The two men talked in hushed tones, their heads bent close. Then they clasped hands seemingly in a gesture of friendship and support.
“I was unable to see the duke,” Merrick said in a louder voice. “You must go and see him for me. Find out what is going on and report back to me when you can.”
Kirk nodded, and seconds later, he slipped out the door and was gone. She frowned, wondering what else they had discussed.
