by Maya Banks
She shook her head. “No, that is enough. Thank you.” She licked her lips where the feel of his touch still lingered.
He returned to the horses and dug out two bread rolls from his bag and handed one to her. “We should be going. We can eat on the way.”
She took the proffered roll and made her way to her horse. Merrick’s hands came round her waist, and he hoisted her up to the saddle. As she sat down, his hands lingered then trailed down her leg as he collected the reins for her.
He looked as if he would say something but turned abruptly and mounted his own horse. They took out in silence, once again foregoing the main road and threading their way through the woods.
After a few miles, Isabella grew weary of the silence and looked over at Merrick. “When do you suppose we will arrive in Dover?”
“I hope by tonight,” he returned. “We will make inquiries into a ship that can take us to Leaudor, and hopefully be on our way shortly after.” He paused a moment and looked ahead then back to her once more. “But it could be several days.”
“What will we do if we are unable to find a ship to take us?” she asked, voicing the one fear that prevailed over all others.
“We will not fail,” he said firmly.
His confidence cheered her somewhat, and she forced herself to be more optimistic of their chances of securing passage to Leaudor. Her mind quickly focused on what would happen after she returned home.
Tendrils of dread clenched at her heart. First and foremost, she would have to travel into the cliffs to retrieve the relics before Jacques got to them. He had probably already been scouring the caves in hopes of happening across the treasure.
And then, whether she was successful in recovering them or not, she would have to face the man who murdered her family. She had no desire to be drawn into a lengthy trial presided over by the monks of Sacre Foi. Jacques would be either be condemned to death or be exiled from the island. Either way she would feel cheated. She wanted to confront the bastard herself.
Her fists clenched tighter around the reins until her knuckles shone white. She would have her revenge even if she died trying. Nothing else mattered to her. It was as important as assuming the rule of her nation.
Her mother’s loving face appeared before her as if she indeed stood right in front of her in the flesh. Isabella blinked back the tears and imagined her mother wiping them gently away with her hand.
“I won’t let your death go unpunished, Mother,” she whispered.
“Did you say something?” Merrick asked, yanking her from her reverie.
She glanced over at him, swallowing back the tears and offering a bright smile. “No.”
“Look, Charlie, we ‘ave company,” an unfamiliar voice called out, startling both Isabella and Merrick.
As they approached a clearing, they saw two ragged looking men sitting around a small fire. Merrick flashed a warning to her with his eyes, and she nodded in understanding. They would not stop here.
Merrick nodded at the two men and guided his horse to the side, Isabella following suit.
“Ho now, that’s not very friendly of ye,” the second man spoke up, flashing a toothless smile. “Why don’t you stop and sit a spell?”
“Yes, why don’t you?” a third voice said very close to them.
Isabella turned to see a man step out of the shadow of the trees, a pistol in his hand. Pointed directly at Merrick.
The man was only slightly better dressed than the two by the fire, but his gaze was more menacing. He waved the pistol, gesturing for them to dismount.
Merrick slid from his horse but kept a tight hold on the reins. She slowly dismounted beside him and glanced warily at the threat before them.
“What do you want?” Merrick growled. “We’d like to be on our way.”
Isabella marveled at the change in his voice. Gone were the aristocratic tones. He had adopted a flatter accent that was easily identifiable as more common.
She glanced hurriedly around, trying to determine whether or not there were any more surprises lurking about. The two men had risen from their squat positions by the fire and now ambled over to join their compatriot who brandished the gun.
They weren’t overly large men. Surely she and Merrick could ward them off with minimal difficulty. The gun posed an unwanted complication, however.
“Throw your bag over here,” the man with the gun snarled at Merrick.
Merrick reached up and slowly untied the sack from the saddle. Then he tossed it toward the man where it landed in a heap at his feet. The man gestured to one of his accomplices to retrieve it.
The man sidled over to Isabella and slid the pistol up her arm and over her shoulder to her back as he walked around her.
“Wot’s a nice looking woman like yourself doing dressed like a boy?” he asked with a snicker.
Isabella remained silent, refusing to look at him.
“She ain’t got no valuables on her,” one of the other men called out. “That’s plain to see.”
The men laughed uproariously.
The man with the pistol turned his attention to Merrick. “And you? Wot ye ‘ave on ye?”
“Nothing that would interest you,” Merrick ground out.
“Now I’ll be the judge of that.” He leveled a stare at Merrick then gestured with the gun. “Take off your boots.”
“What?” Merrick demanded.
“Ye heard me. Take off your boots before I blow them off.”
With a grimace, Merrick bent down and hopped on one foot while he pulled one boot off then the other. He tossed them angrily at the man and stood in his stockings, the material soaking up moisture from the damp ground.
The man then reached into Merrick’s pocket and took out the timepiece and money pouch.
“Well, well, well, what ‘ave we ‘ere?” He turned to the two other men. “Our man ‘ere is rather plump in the pockets.”
He tossed the money pouch to the men, who greedily opened it up and poured the coins and wadded bills out onto the ground.
He then sauntered back over to Isabella and glanced down at her boots. She held her breath, hoping against hope that he would leave her boots. At first she had given thanks that she had hidden the ring and the map in the toe of her slightly overlarge boots, but now it appeared as though she would lose them anyway.
A quick glance over at the other men told her they were absorbed in counting Merrick’s money. She watched the man with the gun out of the corner of her eye and waited for an opportunity. And then she had it. The man turned away from her, his hand still holding the gun in her direction as he looked back toward Merrick.
In an instant, she lashed out with her arm, connecting with his wrist and knocking the pistol to the ground. She swung her leg around on the heels of her blow and connected with his knee.
He howled in pain as his legs buckled, and he crumpled to the ground.
The two other men scrambled up from the ground. One collected the money and immediately ran for the trees, but the other barreled over to engage Merrick. As Merrick met the man’s charge, Isabella took advantage of her opponent’s distraction and leaped for his gun.
As her hand connected with the cold metal of the barrel, a hand curled around her wrist, nearly snapping it with the force of his grip.
“Bloody bitch!” he snarled as he backhanded her and sent her reeling backwards.
Her cheek buzzed like an angry bee, but she was on her feet in seconds. Anger flashed hotly over her, and she now had the advantage as he was still on the ground. She snapped her foot out and kicked him in the nose. Blood immediately burst from his face, smattering the ground below him.
Not giving him any time to react, she connected again, this time square in the jaw. She felt a crack and knew she had broken his teeth. His hands went up to cradle his nose and jaw, and he screamed in pain.
She sent the gun skittering across the ground and out of reach with her foot as she advan
ced on the man once more.
He lurched to his feet, backing frantically away from her. “Demon bitch!”
He nearly tripped over Merrick’s boots that lay on the ground. Grabbing them up, he turned and fled in the same direction the first man had run in.
Merrick had just crumpled the remaining man with a fist to his jaw when Isabella ran over to assist him.
“Are you all right?” he demanded, taking her shoulders in his hands.
“Yes, are you?”
“They got away with all my money and my damn boots plus the knife I had hidden in them,” he growled, pounding his fist into his hand in frustration.
He looked back up at her, and his hand went swiftly to her cheek. “You are not all right.”
He gently touched the place where the man had struck her and she winced.
“I am fine,” she protested. “It is nothing.”
“I’d like to kill the bastard for touching you,” he said in a dangerously low voice.
“Truly, I am fine.”
He looked down at his bare feet in disgust. “We must find another way of securing passage to Leaudor. I had hoped to hire a ship with the money the brigands stole, but now our only choice may be to stow away.”
“We will find a way,” she said in a low voice.
“Yes,” he said reassuringly.
“Now perhaps we need to concentrate on procuring you some boots,” she said looking down at his feet. “Is there a town nearby?”
“We can be to Tynedale in a few hours,” he said. “At least they didn’t get the horses.”
He glanced down at the unconscious man at his feet in disgust. “I’m sure his fellow thieves will be back for him.”
“Help me move him closer to the fire so he doesn’t freeze,” she said reaching down to grab the man’s arms.
He arched an eyebrow but didn’t argue. Once they had moved the man close enough to the fire, she bent over to tug the boots from the man’s feet. Simon smiled as he realized her intent.
She dropped the boots on the ground by his feet. “Think they’ll do?” she asked.
He glanced doubtfully at them but bent down to thrust one foot inside. After a few moments of trying to force his heel into the worn leather, he sighed in aggravation and tossed the shoe back toward where the man lay.
Isabella shrugged. “It was worth a try.” She turned back to the unconscious man for a moment then back at Merrick. “Help me get him out of his shirt. We can tear the material into strips and wrap your feet.”
Merrick fumbled with the buttons, and between them, they managed to free the material from the man. She pulled at the shirt, trying to tear it, but it was sturdy. Merrick took it from her and ripped it in two. Then he bent down and wrapped the linen around each foot.
She retrieved the pistol from the ground several feet away. Turning, she handed it to Merrick. “We may have need of this later.”
He nodded and tucked it into his pants.
As they mounted their horses, Merrick turned to her. “Once again you surprise me, Princess.”
She looked inquisitively at him.
“Is there no situation in which you are at a disadvantage?”
“Necessity breeds success,” she replied. “I cannot fail, therefore I won’t.”
She knew she sounded little better than a braggart, but she spoke the truth. She would not fail. Could not allow anyone to come between her and what she had to do. To entertain anything less would be opening herself up to disaster. She would succeed, or she would die. It was that simple.
“I think you are perhaps the most extraordinary woman I have ever met,” he said, grudging admiration in his tone.
“If I was truly extraordinary, I could have prevented my parents’ deaths,” she said softly.
“You cannot blame yourself for the madness of others, Isabella. It is something I learned in my profession a long time ago.”
“No, I suppose not,” she said with a sigh. “But if only I hadn’t stood there like a marble statue, watching as they cut down my parents.”
“There was nothing you could do,” he said firmly. “But we will see to it that they are avenged.”
Warmth spread up her body and into her chest. He spoke as if he had taken up her cause with her. The thought that she was not going about this alone bolstered her like nothing ever had. She felt the ridiculous urge to smile like a child who had just been given a pony.
They rode along for several minutes and Isabella glanced down at his feet. The thin material probably didn’t offer much protection from the cold, but at least it was something until they could replace his boots.
She cleared her throat and glanced back up at him. He plodded forward, his shoulders moving in rhythm with his horse. Their conversation of two nights ago weighed heavily on her mind. He had dodged her question about his brother, but she had seen the pain on his face. Heard it in his voice.
She was unsure of how to broach the subject, though, and she had a keen desire to know as much about him as she could.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, interrupting her flow of thoughts. He had unwittingly opened the door for her question uppermost in her mind.
“I was thinking about our conversation—about your family,” she said, gauging his reaction to her statement.
His expression became shuttered, and he looked away.
“What happened to your brother?” she asked softly.
He stiffened, his carriage becoming rigid. “He committed suicide,” he said after a long pause.
Isabella’s eyes widened. “But why?”
His mouth twisted derisively. “I wish I knew. He was everything the future Earl of Merrick should be. Everyone liked him, he had no enemies. Had a keen voice for politics. Traveled well in society circles. He was…” Merrick broke off, seemingly at a loss as to what to say.
“He was everything I’m not,” he finally said.
Anger radiated from him in volumes. His hands curled tightly around the reins as he stared unseeingly in front of him.
“I’m sorry,” she said around the catch in her throat.
In many ways she and Merrick were alike. They had both lost the only family they had.
He shook his head as if to ward off the painful memories. “Such a waste. He had everything.”
Everything I didn’t.
She heard it as surely as if he had spoken the words aloud. How must it have felt to have been a non-entity in his own family?
She stared ahead as they continued forward. She had no idea what to say, so she remained silent. After a few moments of awkward silence, she turned once more to him.
“How are your feet?” she asked, abruptly changing the subject.
“They are growing numb,” he admitted. “I am keeping them against the horse for warmth, but I am beginning to lose feeling in them.”
“We must be coming upon a village soon,” she said.
“Yes, a few more miles at most. Tynedale isn’t far.”
“We’ll stop there so I may get supplies and boots.”
“What will you use for money?” he asked.
“I have my signet ring.”
Regret filled his face, but she cut him off before he could protest.
“These things will mean nothing if I do not make it back to Leaudor. And it may be our only means of making it.”
He nodded and they continued on.
An hour later, they saw plumes of smoke rising over the treetops. “The town is just over that next hill,” Merrick said, pointing slightly to the north.
“Wait for me on the outskirts,” she directed. “We don’t want to attract any attention by you riding in barefooted. I’ll go in and secure our supplies and meet you back here.”
“I don’t like you going alone,” he said resolutely.
“Give me the pistol. I will be fine.”
He dug the pistol out of his breeches and handed it to her. “B
e careful,” he warned. “If you aren’t back in an hour, I am coming after you.”
Chapter Ten
Isabella’s horse picked its way carefully through the edge of the wood and down the hill into the village. As she dismounted and tied her horse in front of a local tavern, she kept careful watch.
Down the dirt street, she saw a few shops, and she made her way to the first. It didn’t appear to have anything in the way of boots, so she continued to the next one.
When she entered the small store, a smiling woman greeted her.
“What can I do for you, madam?”
If she was surprised at Isabella’s attire, she didn’t so much as blink an eye.
“I need to purchase boots for my husband.”
“Do you have his measurements?”
“Uh, no, but if you have some that are pre-made, perhaps I might take a look at them?”
“This way,” she said, gesturing for Isabella to follow.
She showed Isabella several pairs of well-made boots and Isabella chose the ones she thought would be the closest fit for Merrick.
“Madam,” she said, halting the woman as she had begun to make her way back to the front of the store.
The woman turned and looked questioningly at Isabella.
“I wonder if you would be willing to collect some supplies for me. I’ve only one thing to pay with but I assure you it will be worth your time.”
The woman eyed her suspiciously. “How much you got?”
Isabella pulled the signet ring from her pocket and handed it to the woman. “This is worth far more than what I will ask you for. You may sell it and keep yourself in comfort for years to come.”
The woman’s eyes rounded to the size of saucers and then narrowed. She took the ring and put it to her mouth, biting the large ruby with crooked teeth. Drawing it away, she narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
Isabella watched the woman amble to the back of the store, open a door then disappear inside. A few minutes later, she returned with an excited gleam in her eyes.
“Come, tell me what you require. My husband and I will have them in no time.”
Isabella quickly outlined the things she wanted, and the woman hurried out to do her bidding.
