by Robyn DeHart
“Why are you doing this?” she asked.
His shrewd blue eyes met hers. “It is my duty to protect. I work for the Crown of England. You are now involved and therefore deserve protection.”
She nodded.
“It is strange to wake up and believe one thing about yourself, then end the day realizing you are someone else entirely,” she said.
His eyes bore into hers. “Yes, it is.”
And she would have sworn that he truly understood. Not only that he commiserated, but that he knew precisely what she meant. It was on her tongue to ask him if he truly did understand, but he let the curtain fall back into place, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
About half an hour later, Jason rapped on the roof of the carriage, and it rolled to a stop. “We’ll have to stop here for the night as my estate is still another day’s ride away.”
“Another day? ’Tis far away.”
“Yes.” He withdrew from the carriage then held a hand up to her. “Nearly to the Scottish border.”
Relief swam through her. Certainly, she’d be more difficult to find this far north of London. She’d never been out of the city, and she longed to see the landscape, but darkness had fallen. All she could make out behind them were the shadows of lines of trees.
…
After she’d peppered him with questions about Saldania and the plot to usurp the throne, Jason had pretended to sleep. It had been better than continuing with the conversation lest he reveal to her how deadly the situation was. He had no doubt that once the men behind this traitorous plan got her married and safely on the throne next to her husband, Isabel would be quietly murdered. Jason didn’t want to terrify her.
Jason stretched outside of the carriage before he assisted Isabel to the ground. The sign hanging by the front gate wobbled in the wind, and the sharp scent of rain hung heavy in the air.
“A storm is coming.” Jason nodded toward the inn. He glanced at the Tudor-style building with fresh eyes, seeing it perhaps as Isabel did. The half-timbered, black-and-white building was showing its age, but the grounds were clean and tidy and, other than the handful of missing bricks from the far right chimney, it was in decent shape. “Might not be much, but we can at least stay dry. They should also have something we can eat.”
Her stomach growled in response, and she gave him a shy grin. “That would be quite nice.”
Several fat drops fell onto them. Thankfully, a groom jogged out to greet them. Jason gave the man instructions about the horses before accompanying Isabel inside the inn.
Jason had stayed at The Boar and the Hound on more than one occasion when traveling to his family’s estate in Northumberland. It was not the most luxurious of inns, but it was clean, and the food was decent. He certainly hoped it would meet Isabel’s approval. Granted she’d been raised in a school, not in a palace as she should have been, and he already knew her standards were low considering she’d asked him to put her in the servants’ quarters.
The tavern on the first floor of the inn already hummed with activity and people. No doubt the oncoming storm had forced more than a few to stop here for at least a meal in hopes of avoiding a drenching. Two barmaids skirted the tables, passing out bowls of steaming food as well as tankards of ale. Several road-worn travelers huddled at said tables, eating and drinking, but everything seemed to stop when Jason and Isabel stepped inside. As if they could tell Isabel was royalty, people turned to stare.
Of course, Isabel was strikingly beautiful, more so than most women. She had an exotic beauty about her with a naturally darker complexion than was typical of English-bred ladies. That combined with her chestnut hair made her sea-green eyes stand out and beg people to look at them.
She leaned closer to him. “Why are they staring at you?” she asked.
“I believe it is you who has caught their gaze.”
Her hand went absently to her head, patted her hair. “I certainly have no notion as to why. Do I look a fright?”
Jason chuckled. The innkeeper stepped over to them before Jason could answer her.
Recognition lit in the old man’s wizened face. “Ah, Lord Ellis, how nice to see you again.”
“And you, sir. I need a room,” Jason said.
“Yes, a storm’s coming. Been brewing out there all day. I suspect it’ll be a strong one, too, judging by all the customers tonight.” He nodded toward the full tavern, then he seemed to notice Isabel for the first time, and his wiry white eyebrows rose as he quickly looked from Isabel, then back to Jason. “Of course, my lord. This way.” He led them through the tavern and up to the bar area where he managed all manner of duties for the inn. He flipped open a large book, then glanced up. “Only one room, then?” There was insinuation in his voice, although his posture and expression remained respectful.
Jason nodded. “Yes, only one. This is my niece. I intend to ensure her protection. Perhaps an extra blanket or two so I can make myself comfortable on the floor.”
“Yes, of course.” The man bobbed his head several times, then bent behind the bar and came back with a key. “Nicest room we have, my lord, and the largest. I’ll bring up extra bedding directly.”
Chapter Four
The innkeeper had come up to their room, bringing what Isabel suspected might be every extra piece of bedding they owned. He set up a small table with two chairs, and soon returned with heaping bowls of steaming stew and buttered bread. It seemed Jason had accounted for all their needs. Save one. Isabel still needed a solution to her current predicament. Hiding at one of his family estates would provide only a temporary fix.
The best she had done while pondering the situation was to realize that, more than anything, what she needed was to no longer remain unmarried. Then those men, whoever they were, wouldn’t be able to wed her in some political game. But she wasn’t married and certainly didn’t have any prospects. She didn’t even know many men her age. St. Bart’s admitted only girls, and the adjacent school, St. Basil’s, had never provided any tempting prospects. Which left only the man she was currently with. She glanced across the table from her. She’d studied him so much during the carriage ride, she feared she’d already memorized all his handsome features.
He wasn’t married.
Could he be the solution she needed? It was a ludicrous idea, but it was the only one she had. Jason was handsome and gallant, and she dared think even charming. Because of those qualities, he was more than likely already spoken for, betrothed to the prettiest of genteel-born ladies in London. Still, he might be her only hope of getting out of this mess. And certainly Jason would see the benefits of making her unavailable for marriage to someone who wanted the current queen murdered. He already worked to protect the Crown. Isabel could help do the same, if only in a small way.
She cleared her throat, trying to think of how to ask such a thing. “I don’t suppose those men would be after me if I were already married,” she said.
He looked up from his meal. “I am not certain that would stop them, but it would definitely slow them down. They have proven that they’re willing to go to the extreme to accomplish their goals. They’ve attempted to kidnap you twice now.”
“Still, it is worth considering, I think,” she said.
“What is?”
“Me finding a husband.”
He nodded slowly. “Do you have someone in mind? A suitor from near the school?” he asked.
“A suitor?” she asked, blankly. She watched his face, noting how very attractive his blue eyes were. Gold flecks enhanced them, making her want to stare into their depths. Oh for heaven’s sake. She needed to get a hold of herself. This wasn’t a romance, this was necessity. “No, nothing like that.”
He returned his attention to his food.
“You could marry me,” she blurted out.
He stilled, staring blankly at her. Then a thick line furrowed his brow and he set down his spoon. He cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon?”
She winced. That had not
come out the way she’d hoped. “You are not already wed, else I’m certain I’d have seen a wife at your townhome, true?”
“True.” His frown deepened.
“Betrothed?”
“No.”
Hope blossomed within her. “Then you are available for marriage?”
He ran his hand through his dark, wavy hair. “No, I am not.”
She chewed on her lip and watched him. “You do not care for women?” she asked, her words slow and deliberate.
His brows rose in surprise and then he chuckled, and the mirth created such attractive crinkles at the edges of his eyes. She sighed.
“I very much care for women, as it were. I am simply not looking for a wife.”
“I see.” She dug the spoon through her stew as if she might find the answer hidden somewhere amid the potatoes and lamb pieces. “I thought that as a protector of the Crown, you would be interested in being a protector no matter the cost.”
“Isabel, I am protecting you so that you are not forced to play a part in this traitorous plan. It is not your place to protect the queen. That is the purpose of the Brotherhood,” he said.
“Yes, but that does not negate the usefulness of the rest of us. Would you not expect a man to assist the queen if he saw her about to trip, even if he were merely a footman?” she asked.
He blinked at her, and his jaw clenched for a moment before he spoke. “That is not the same thing.”
“Protecting the sovereignty of the kingdom is every Englishman’s duty,” she said.
“Perhaps, but you are not English.”
“But if I can help—”
“You cannot help. It is the Brotherhood’s job to protect the queen, and you as well. Now you must allow me to do my job.”
He stood abruptly and made his way to the door with powerful strides. “I must tend to the horses and ensure we have fresh rides ready to leave at dawn.” He pulled on his great coat. “You’ll be safe in here.”
After he closed the door behind him, she dropped her head into her hands. That had been a colossal failure. Granted, she’d never proposed to anyone before, but she wagered that had gone about as badly as it could have. Instead of helping, it appeared she had infuriated Jason. Not to mention it had been rather humiliating.
So if he was unmarried and not betrothed, then why wouldn’t he want to marry her? Was she so undesirable? Of course, he was a viscount. There were undoubtedly legions of English girls who would be better suited to be his wife. Even though she was a princess, she certainly had not been raised as one. No, Jason had probably been wise in refusing her, even if his rejection had stung.
Whether she was humiliated or not, mattered little now. She had to do something or risk being part of the downfall of the English monarchy. She couldn’t let herself be a pawn in the machinations. Not if there was anything she could do to stop it.
True, Jason had insisted that it wasn’t her place to save the queen, but that didn’t mean she had to sit by and do nothing. Besides, if Jason had to protect her and keep her out of the hands of these villains, then that meant he wasn’t helping to protect the queen.
No, Jason might not see it, but the only solution was for her to marry someone. If not Jason, then someone else. She’d rather marry a stranger than play a role in killing the young queen. Jason was right—she wasn’t English, not truly, but she’d been raised English. If Jason wasn’t going to help her, she’d find someone who would.
She stood in front of the grainy mirror at the dressing table and patted her hair. She pinched her cheeks to pinken them before she slipped out of the room. She could find some willing participant in this inn. There had been several men when she and Jason had first arrived.
…
Jason made his way to the stables to check on the horses. He would have done so regardless, but the questions Isabel had been asking him had made him most uncomfortable. She was resourceful, he’d give her that. When faced with a nearly impossible problem, she’d come up with a clever solution, even if it would prove only temporary.
But he was not the solution. It mattered not that she’d shrewdly appealed to his sense of duty to the Crown. He certainly couldn’t tell her why he’d chosen not to get married. No one need know the truth. People could think what they would of him, but he did not deserve to be a husband.
He couldn’t blame Isabel for asking. He was near, and he had already vowed allegiance to protecting Queen Victoria. He was the logical choice. Still, her request had surprised him. In truth, much of what she’d said to him this evening had disarmed him.
Earlier in the carriage, she’d talked about knowing what it was like to discover you weren’t who you thought you were. She’d looked so lost and scared in that moment, and damned if he hadn’t agreed with her. He had nearly told her everything about his own life, the secret he’d discovered about his own identity. But his mother had always told him that it wasn’t his secret to tell. Even though it sure as hell felt as if it were very much his secret. It was, after all, entirely about him. The day he’d found out that his real father had been their stable master was forever imprinted in his mind.
But he couldn’t tell Isabel he was a bastard.
After spending entirely too much time in the stable, listening to the rain patter on the tree canopy surrounding him, he realized he’d likely wasted enough time avoiding Isabel. With any luck, she’d already be asleep, and Jason could simply take his place in the chair and wait until morning.
He stepped inside the inn, and the noise from the tavern assaulted him. Cheers and shouts ensued, and he was certain he saw someone standing on a table. Drunken fools. He made his way to the edge of the room to skirt the crowd, and then a flash of chestnut caught his attention. He turned and walked closer, to better see what was happening. Isabel was perched atop the table pointing at some of the men who encircled her.
Isabel.
What the devil was she doing down here? He wasted no time in shoving his way through the men, even though several of them were twice as wide as he was and at least a head taller. They grew them big out here in the country.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked when he reached her. He moved to grab her off the table, but she sidled out of his way.
“Since you declined my proposition, I am now trying to find myself a husband.” She gave him a tight smile. “These gentlemen,” she stumbled over the word, “are vying for my hand.”
He eyed the crowd. Several of the men winked up at her. One elbowed him hard in the gut, trying to shove him away from the table. “Yes, I’m certain they are. This is not how to go about getting a husband, Isabel. Get down from there.”
She shook her head. “You do not wish to assist me, and that is perfectly all right. I shall do this on my terms.”
“You hear that, she don’t want you,” one particularly large man yelled at Jason. Then he reached his beefy hand up to Isabel. “I’ll make you a good husband, my lady.”
“I’ll bring home fresh flowers every day,” another yelled.
This was insane, pure madness. The stench of ale burned Jason’s eyes.
“I’ve got a handful of kids to keep you company,” another man boasted. And the other men erupted in laughter.
This was ridiculous. She couldn’t possibly be serious. “Isabel, we will find another solution.”
She looked down at him. “There are no other options.”
For a moment, Jason simply stared at her. Standing on the table, she was glorious. Beautiful and fierce and determined. What if she was also right? What if the best way for him to protect the queen right now was to assist Isabel in marrying immediately?
He could allow her to wed one of the curs in this tavern. Many of the men in here were likely hardworking, but could they truly provide for her? They certainly wouldn’t be able to protect her, especially since they wouldn’t be privy to the information that would keep Isabel safe. She’d never find a man in here who would know true worth. That was unacceptable.
Certainly, even he, the bastard son of a stable master, was a better option than the men in here.
Without thinking, Jason stood upon one of the chairs. “Isabel, please consider that the men who are after you will not quit so easily. Whomever you marry will be in danger.” He pulled her to him. “I shall marry you. We’ll head to Scotland in the morning.”
She eyed him warily. “I hadn’t considered that by marrying me, I would put someone in danger. I cannot allow you to put yourself in harm’s way.”
“I am the perfect candidate since I am properly trained for such things. I can protect myself.” He shrugged and ignored the men who continued to yell. “Besides, your logic makes a certain amount of sense. Even if your marriage wouldn’t deter the traitors forever, it will most assuredly buy us some much-needed time,” he said. Then he motioned to the men who were shouting disapprovingly. “Unless, of course you’d prefer one of them.”
Her exotic green eyes met his, and for the briefest of seconds, it felt as if they were the only two in the room. “I’d much rather prefer you.”
She wrapped her arms around him, and he lifted her from the table and out of the common room. The other men continued to yell, but Jason ignored them.
Damnation. What had he just promised to do?
…
After a restless night in which Isabel got very little sleep, she and Jason climbed back into the carriage and headed north to Scotland. She had lain in the bed and listened to Jason breathing, knowing that soon they’d be husband and wife. Nerves had eaten at her all evening. They were traveling directly to Gretna Green, the first village over the Scottish border and the most popular place for couples to elope.
She was putting him in danger simply by him marrying her and protecting her. Yes, he was trained. Still, she was unsure if she should allow him to fall on this particular sword, just for her. Perhaps she should instead persuade him to pay her passage on a ship and sail somewhere that no one would ever find her.
