Remain calm, she urged herself. Think of your options.
Her hands weren’t bound, but jumping from a moving coach was dangerous. If she fell badly, she could break her neck. But then again, once she reached their destination, her escape options would be worse. They’d probably tie her up. And if Michael did come to rescue her, after they’d killed him no doubt they would take her life as well.
She stared down at her violet gown. The skirts were going to be a problem, hindering her escape. But perhaps if she removed the petticoats, the gown wouldn’t billow out so much.
‘How much further are we travelling?’ she asked her guard.
The man shrugged. ‘An hour, perhaps.’
There was a chance he would fire his gun at her, but more likely he needed her alive, in order to lure Michael. Her best chance of escape was now.
Hannah pretended to settle back against the seat, but she inched the back hem of her gown to rest above her hips, so that she was no longer seated upon it. The front of the gown covered the numerous petticoats, but now she could reach the ties that bound the skirts. With her fingers working quickly, she untied them. The man didn’t seem to notice her efforts, since it was so dark.
When the last petticoat was unfastened, Hannah stared at the coach door. She would have to open it in one swift motion, stepping free from the petticoats and leaping from the moving coach.
Her common sense told her that this was not a good idea. She would probably tangle up in her skirts and fall on her face.
In her mind, she could almost imagine what her mother would say. ‘A proper young lady would never dream of trying to escape. She would simply fold her hands in her lap and wait calmly to be killed.’
Hannah grimaced, and began easing the petticoats past her hips, keeping her lap covered with the dress.
Her pulse was pounding so hard, it was a wonder the man hadn’t heard it. Her courage was waning with every second, while her brain screamed out all the things that could go wrong.
Before she could stop herself, she reached for the door handle and threw herself outside the moving carriage. Her body struck the ground hard, and a vicious pain rolled over her as she tumbled off the road. Every inch of her would have bruises, she was certain.
But she was alive.
The sound of male voices shouting made her aware that she couldn’t stay for long. They would search for her, and she mustn’t be found.
Without the petticoats, her gown hung down low, and she gathered up the hem with both hands. Thank heavens her dress was violet; it would keep them from seeing her clearly. Ignoring the pain, she held fast to her skirts and ran towards the forest. She didn’t know where she was or how far she was from the palace.
Her chest ached from running so hard, but she forced herself to keep going. For this time, her life depended on it.
Chapter Twenty-One
Michael reached out and seized Lady Brentford’s arm. He twisted it behind her back and forced her into the corridor. ‘Where is she? By God, you’re going to tell me or—’
The woman laughed at him, and when he looked into her eyes, he saw the true face of madness. ‘If you kill me, you’ll never find her.’ Half-choking on her laughter, she didn’t seem to care that she was caught. ‘Never, never,’ she sang.
At the end of the corridor, he saw Queen Astri approaching with her guards. The men came forward to surround them, and the Queen’s face hardened at the sight of Lady Brentford. ‘I forbade you to show your face here again.’
Lady Brentford’s laughter ceased. With a sly smile, she attempted a curtsy, though Michael kept his grip firm. ‘Queen Astri.’ Disrespect coated her tone.
‘She is the woman responsible for kidnapping me years ago,’ Michael told the Queen. Though he didn’t want to offend his mother, she needed to understand the Viscountess’s actions. ‘Karl is Lady Brentford’s son. She had hoped he would take the throne.’
The Queen’s expression didn’t change. ‘I’ve always known that Karl was the result of one of my husband’s liaisons. It’s the only reason others believed he was the King’s son. They thought me mad when I claimed Karl was not my child.’ She shivered as though from a sudden chill. ‘But I always knew. The scar was wrong.’
Queen Astri turned to her men and commanded them, ‘Chain the King’s whore in the south-west tower. Let her know what it is to be a prisoner.’
Immediately, the royal guardsmen came and took Lady Brentford into custody. The Viscountess didn’t look at all concerned by her fate; instead, she continued to laugh.
‘Find her if you can, Lieutenant. Remember—your life, for hers.’
‘Her men have taken Lady Hannah captive,’ Michael explained to the Queen, after the guards took Lady Brentford away. ‘With your permission, Your Majesty, I need men to help me find her.’
The Queen laid her hand on his. ‘I will grant you my assistance.’ Her hazel eyes hardened. ‘But you must promise that afterwards you will assume your place as the Crown Prince.’
Though he understood the the Queen’s desire, he didn’t want to endanger Hannah. ‘Not until Hannah is safe.’
The Queen’s face tensed. ‘This woman means a great deal to you, doesn’t she?’
He met her gaze, leaving no room for disagreement. ‘She is going to become my Princess.’
A soft smile touched her lips. ‘Then you’d better find her.’
Karl fully intended to get drunk. He’d nearly finished off one bottle of brandy and was intent on starting another when he’d overheard laughter in the hallway.
He’d stumbled to the door, intending to slam it shut. But then he’d seen Lieutenant Thorpe standing in the corridor, forcing a woman forward while guards approached them. The woman’s face had haunted his nightmares.
Frozen, he’d stared at them, only half-hearing the revelation that the laughing woman was his mother, the King’s mistress. He’d not seen her face in years, but the memory of her cruelty struck him to the bone.
For so long, he’d believed the visions were bad dreams. But they had been real.
The Viscountess had come to visit him, inspecting him and ordering him to stand up straight. When it wasn’t enough to meet her standards, she’d locked him in a cupboard, screaming at him.
And the knife. Karl shut the door to the study, the vivid memory terrifying, even after so many years. She’d wielded a blade, cutting into the back of his leg while he’d screamed.
He reached for the bottle of brandy, draining it with one last swallow. He closed his eyes, recalling the night he’d been brought to the Schloss. He’d been taken from his nurse, crying. The Viscountess had warned him not to speak. And fear had silenced his tongue for nearly a year.
He set down the bottle, no longer knowing what to do.
I know what it is to be imprisoned in a life like this, Lady Hannah had said to him. And still never be good enough.
Damn her, she’d seen right through him. She’d tried, in her own way, to reassure him. But Karl knew it wasn’t going to be all right. He wasn’t the Crown Prince, only a bastard. The years of hard work and patriotism had meant nothing.
His fingers closed around the neck of the empty brandy bottle, the blunt pain clouding out everything. And suddenly, he crashed it into the hearth. Glass shattered everywhere, like the pieces of his life.
Without thinking, he strode out of his study and into the corridor. He found a servant and gave the order to prepare a horse and fetch his cloak.
He knew that Lieutenant Thorpe had taken a group of soldiers with him to find Lady Hannah and bring her back. They didn’t need his help, and Karl wasn’t nearly drunk enough to join his half-brother in the search.
But perhaps, though he’d lost his birthright, he could prove his worth in another way. Perhaps being a Prince didn’t have to be by blood.
But by actions.
Hannah continued walking through the forest for the next hour, to hide from the men searching. Her entire body ached, and she had bruises up and
down her arms and legs. The urge to cry kept rising up, but she reminded herself that tears weren’t going to help her get back to Vermisten.
She kept away from the main road, knowing that the men would expect her to follow it. Several times, she stopped, waiting for the moonlight to illuminate her way.
But after another hour, the forest ended, and she had no choice but to venture out into the open. She waited, praying, Dear God, don’t let them find me. As she walked parallel to the road, she tried to keep hidden.
But still, her thoughts were caught up in Michael.
This afternoon, when he’d returned to her, she’d disobeyed so many rules. Lying in his arms, letting herself be with him, had been one of the most glorious moments of her life. And though her courage had faltered, she now knew that she loved him, whether he was a common soldier or a Crown Prince.
It would break her heart if she never saw him again. She wanted him, more than anything else in the world. And though her feet were blistered and her body was bruised, her heart ached even more.
I don’t want to live without him.
All her life, she’d been told what was right and proper. She’d been given rigid rules, expected to be a perfect lady at all times. For so long, she’d lived under that shadow, allowing others to make decisions for her.
She’d blamed everyone else for her lack of freedom, when one simple word would have changed everything: no. A Princess lived under a rigid set of expectations, true. But she did not bow to the whims of anyone. A true Princess gave commands and decided which rules were meant to protect her and which were meant to control her.
Hannah sat down in the tall grass, resting her feet for a moment. She needed to stop being a lady. And start being a Princess.
Her eyes were blurred with tears when she stood up. In the distance, she heard the sound of a horse approaching. Hannah ducked into the underbrush, her heart thundering in her chest.
When the rider drew closer, she caught sight of his face in the moonlight, and her heart nearly stopped. He moved his horse off the roadside, directly towards her.
Hannah couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Then he stared at the very spot where she was hiding. At his side, she saw the gleam of a revolver.
His voice was cool and resolute. ‘Did you lose your way, Lady Hannah?’
Despite hours of searching, all they found along the main road was an abandoned coach and a pile of discarded petticoats, nearly twenty miles from the Schloss. The road was covered in ruts, made by the wheels of hundreds of coaches. There was no way to tell what had happened to Hannah.
Michael cursed, and wheeled his horse around, doubling back the way they had come. He must have missed something. But what?
The Captain of the Guard approached. ‘Forgive me, Your Royal Highness. I believe we should spread out our search in a different direction.’
‘She can’t be much further from here. The clothes were hers; I’m certain of it. And I’m not leaving her alone.’ He touched the revolver at his side, hoping he found Hannah before anyone else did.
The night had begun to fade with the rising of the sun. Amber rays slid over the horizon, the sky dipped in shades of violet.
Michael spurred his horse faster, searching along the edge of the road. He studied the carriage tracks for anything out of the ordinary, wishing to God that he could find something.
And then, it was as if the Almighty answered his prayer. He pulled his horse to a stop and saw it. There, in the dust, he saw the fragment of a violet gown. Just a small tear, but he knew without a doubt that it was hers. It lay near an open meadow, and he noticed tracks leading away from the road.
‘This way,’ he commanded the men.
As he tracked her through the field and east of the city, he kept the scrap of fabric clenched in his palm. I’m going to find you, he promised her. And God help the man who took you.
Michael increased the punishing pace, relying upon the bent grasses to guide him. Then, only a few miles east of Vermisten, he sighted a single horse carrying two people. The woman wore a violet gown, leaving no doubt it was Lady Hannah.
Michael rode as fast as he dared, the palace guards joining behind him. With the company of these men, he was certain they could intercept the rider.
But something made him pause. His soldier instincts told him that this was too easy. A trap, perhaps.
He decreased the pace, only slightly, and the palace guards joined him on either side.
The first bullet struck a guard on the outer perimeter, dropping him from his horse. Michael spied the glint of a rifle from behind them. A small group of six men flanked them on both sides, and his own soldiers were within range of the gunfire. Michael charged his mount faster, and the guards followed.
It reminded him of Balaclava, in that fatal moment when he’d tried unsuccessfully to lead his men out of harm’s way. And right now, their opponents were gaining on them.
He wasn’t going to reach Hannah in time.
If he didn’t get these men away safely, all of them would die. And he’d sworn he’d never let anything happen to her.
The leadership of these men was on his shoulders, all of their lives dependent upon the decision he would make. And though doubts rose up, strangling his confidence, a sudden clarity emerged from his fear. He couldn’t control the outcome, but he could give an order that might save them.
One of the men turned and tried to fire back, but his shot flew wide. Time to act before anyone else was shot.
Michael signalled them closer. ‘Four of you go to the left and take cover near those rocks. The rest of you go to the right and leave me here. I am their target, and it will give you a better chance of picking them off.’
‘We can’t leave you unguarded,’ the Captain argued. ‘Our orders are to protect your life.’
‘I won’t remain on horseback,’ Michael countered. ‘If we fire from three directions, we’ll get them. If we try to outrun them, Hannah will be caught in the crossfire.’
‘Your Royal Highness, I’m not certain—’
‘Do it,’ Michael commanded. ‘If you don’t, we die.’
With a quick nod of his head, the Captain gestured for half of the men to follow. The other four went right, and Michael wheeled his horse around, reining the animal to a stop. He dismounted, taking cover on the ground.
In this position, he was reminded of the battleground again, surrounded by the enemy. It was familiar, and yet different, for he had given the orders this time. Not for the glory of war or the honour of a country—but to save the men.
No longer was he afraid of failing them, of being responsible for their deaths. Instead, he’d given them the chance to save themselves. Their fate lay in God’s hands and in their skill.
His guards fired from both directions, and Michael took careful aim at the centre rider. His first shot was out of range, but the second struck its target. They kept up a steady stream of gunfire, but in the meantime, he was losing Hannah while the rider was taking her further and further away. With a glance behind him, Michael saw her disappearing on the horizon.
He expelled a curse, forcing himself to concentrate. The attackers attempted to scatter, but three more shots ended the battle.
Afterwards, the men rejoined him. The Captain looked shaken, but thankful for his life. ‘Your Royal Highness, are you all right?’
Michael nodded. ‘Send two men to retrieve our fallen man. The rest of you, follow me. We still have to rescue Lady Hannah.’
He mounted his horse, and reloaded his weapon with ammunition given over by the Captain. Urging his steed faster, he rode as fast as the animal would take him. With each mile, his dread intensified.
He couldn’t lose her. Hannah belonged to him as surely as she held his heart. And though she had voiced arguments, trying to convince him that she wasn’t worthy of being a Princess, he wasn’t going to accept them. He would keep her at his side, both to protect her and to love her.
At the crest of a hill, he saw t
he pair of them near the city borders of Vermisten. The rider had stopped, and he held Hannah captive.
Michael drew his weapon. Right now he couldn’t risk firing it, for fear of striking Hannah. He kept up the unyielding pace until at last he reached them.
And when he saw that it was Fürst Karl who held her, a suffocating rage came over him.
His guards joined him, surrounding the pair with weapons drawn. The impostor Prince had his own weapon, but did not reach for it. Instead, he lifted Lady Hannah down from the horse. Hannah raced to his side, and Michael turned to his guards, signalling. ‘Take him away. He is guilty of kidnapping Lady Hannah.’
He dismounted and crushed Hannah into his embrace. Gripping her hard, he couldn’t calm the racing of his heart. Her dress was ragged, the hemline dragging on the ground. Tangled brown hair hung across her shoulders, and her arms were reddened and bruised.
‘Michael, no. The Prince didn’t—’
He shushed her, covering her mouth with his. ‘He’s going to answer for every bruise I see.’
She drew back, not allowing him to kiss her fully. ‘Let him go. He was keeping me away from the gunfire, not running from you.’
In her eyes, he saw unyielding stubbornness. And though he had trouble believing that Karl would lift a finger to help them, Hannah stepped back from him and turned to the former Prince. ‘Thank you, Your Highness.’
The Prince’s mouth tightened, but he nodded. Just as he was about to leave, Michael called out to him. Karl turned, his expression taut and unreadable.
‘You have my gratitude.’
The former Prince met his gaze, then turned away. Though Michael still didn’t trust him, Hannah was right. Karl had found her, keeping her away from the gunfire. He owed the man for that.
‘You came for me,’ Hannah whispered. She kissed him, winding her arms around his neck. The simple touch of her lips made him forget about everything but her. He didn’t care about anyone around them, nor what they might think. He was simply glad she was safe.
When Michael pulled back, he cupped her face, examining Hannah to be sure she was all right. ‘I’m sorry that you had to endure such a terrible night. I should have made sure you had better protection.’
The Accidental Princess Page 24
