by Maya Banks
He was likely as antsy as she was and determined not to be caught unaware. After a quick look in all directions, he stood and peered into the broken window. He tensed and her heart plummeted.
He slid back down the wall to sit beside her. “I have to go in there.”
“What do you mean you need to go in?” she demanded in a harsh whisper. “You can’t be seen.”
“Kirk is there, and I need to apprise him of our suspicions. He’s likely searching for us and may have news for us as well.”
A pulse beat at her temple. “How will you go in unnoticed?”
He blew out his breath. “I’ll go in search of the stable boy that took our horses when we first arrived and have him deliver a message for Kirk to meet us out here.”
“I don’t like it,” she said resolutely. “Shouldn’t we just wait for the captain?” She tried to swallow back the panic that threatened to choke her. For them to have come this far and risk exposure now was insanity.
“I have to do this, Isabella.” He stared directly into her eyes. “It is my duty to keep England safe against outside threats. If I keep what information we have to myself, I go against every thing I stand for.”
Her face grew hot then she felt shame. Her irritation was senseless. Of course he had other obligations besides her. Just as she was loyal to Leaudor, he was just as fiercely loyal to England, and she should not expect her needs to be placed above the safety of an entire nation.
“Be careful,” she whispered as her way of acknowledging his statement.
“You have the pistol. Don’t hesitate to use it,” he said. Then he slipped away down the alley.
She hunched down and prayed that no one would find her. Prayed that Merrick would make it back alive. Prayed that the captain would show up. Prayed she would be in Leaudor soon.
The wait for Merrick lasted forever, but finally he returned and settled back down beside her.
“Well?” she asked anxiously.
“The boy is delivering the message. Now we wait for Kirk to arrive.”
They didn’t have to wait long. A few minutes later, a soft whistle sounded to their right. Merrick pursed his lips and returned the call. Then he stood up.
Kirk hurried forward out of the darkness. “Merrick?”
“Here,” Merrick said.
“God, it’s good to see you. I worried when I hadn’t heard from you.”
Isabella watched the two men, the easy rapport between them, likely born of the many years they had spent in service together. Genuine concern radiated from Kirk, and for the first time, she relaxed her guard around him.
“Princess,” he said with a nod in her direction. “I trust you are well.”
“Very well thanks to Merrick.”
“We’ve much to discuss, Kirk. And not much time.”
Kirk immediately sobered and focused all his attention on Merrick.
“Did you speak with the Duke of Ardmore? Have you heard any rumors of a Leaudorian alliance with France?”
Kirk reacted in surprise and ignored the first question. “None at all. Is this what you think is occurring?”
Merrick quickly outlined all the captain had related to them about the mindset in Leaudor. Then he paused a moment before recounting her capture the day before. When he came to the possible reference to Bonaparte’s escape, blatant disbelief shone on Kirk’s face.
“It sounds too unbelievable,” he said with a shake of his head. “And yet, if it is true, everything that has happened in Leaudor makes sense.”
“That is my thought as well,” Merrick replied.
“So if Montagne is a Bonaparte sympathizer and knows of a possible escape, his efforts to overthrow the monarchy of Leaudor could be an attempt to place Leaudor in Bonaparte’s hands.”
“I told Merrick that a few months before my parents’ deaths, a contingent of Bonapartists came to Leaudor to speak with my father. If they were unable to sway him, they may well have found a sympathetic ear in Jacques,” she spoke up.
“I think you may have hit upon something,” Kirk murmured. “The coincidences are just too staggering to mean nothing. God, if it’s true and Bonaparte is planning an escape, the guards on Elba must be notified at once.”
“I had hoped to get word to you so you could handle things on this end while I transport Isabella to Leaudor,” Merrick said.
Kirk arched an eyebrow. “You’re going to Leaudor with the princess?”
“Yes,” he said in a voice that brooked no argument. “I’ve promised to see her safely home and find out all I can about how this mess affects both our countries. There are those in Leaudor trying to implicate England in the assassinations. Too much rides on our alliance with France. We cannot allow anyone to upend it.”
“Yes, of course, you should,” Kirk said after a moment. “Perhaps you can find out if there is any validity to the claim that Leaudor is allying with France.”
“I trust you will inform the duke of my plans.”
“Do you think that wise?” she and Kirk spoke up at the same time.
Merrick turned to her. “I would not do anything I thought would bring you harm, Isabella.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” she said, outstretching her hand to his. “But our pursuers have had the uncanny knack of finding us wherever we go. Surely you cannot discount the coincidences as they pile up.”
It pained her to question him, but his unwillingness to consider that his government could be in league with Jacques concerned her a great deal.
Ignoring her protests, he turned back to Kirk. “Ride straight to his grace and tell him of my suspicions. Castlereigh will need to be informed and word sent to Wellington in Vienna. Extra guards should be posted on Elba to ensure Bonaparte is secure.”
Kirk nodded. “I must go. I don’t want to draw attention to you or the princess.” He turned to walk away but paused. “Be careful, Merrick. I don’t like all I am hearing. If you and the princess are right, the ramifications for our countries could be great.”
The two men clasped hands and Kirk nodded at her. “I wish you the best, Your Highness.”
“Thank you,” she said.
She blinked as Kirk disappeared, swallowed up into the night as if he had never been there. A frown plagued her and she chewed her lip absently. Silently, she hunched back down in the shadows.
“Is something wrong?”
She glanced over at Merrick and shook her head. This certainly wasn’t the time or place to air her disagreement.
“Something’s bothering you, what is it?” he persisted as he scrunched down beside her once more.
Gritting her teeth, she swallowed back the urge to growl at his perception. When he continued to stare at her, she sighed. “Do you really think it’s wise to place so much trust in the people you work for?”
He stiffened beside her. “Are you questioning me?”
She glanced sideways at him. “Yes, I suppose I am.”
He returned her stare, his eyes blazing in the night. “The people I work with are the only people I can trust. Kirk is my family. More so than Edward or my father ever were. My duty, my first obligation is to inform the regent of any suspicion I may have, substantiated or not. I cannot remain quiet about all that I have learned. I cannot.”
Isabella felt a pang at the pain in his voice, but there was underlying anger. Anger at her for questioning the motives of the people he trusted.
There was so much more to his motives than just duty and honor. Every word he spoke resonated with determination. A determination to succeed. Not to fail. Not for the first time, she wondered how his relationship with his family played into his accepting a position with the government.
She blew on her hands to keep them warm and looked warily around before continuing. “Why didn’t you quit the agency after your father died? I can’t imagine your superiors not understanding in light of you inheriting the title.”
He shifted beside her
then rubbed his hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. His discomfort was apparent and she felt a moment of guilt for bringing up what was clearly a painful issue.
“It was what my father would have wanted—expected,” he finally replied as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.
It was becoming clearer to her. “You were determined to follow your own course in life, one plotted by you and not a man who had no use for you until your brother, the heir, died.”
He looked impressed by her perception. Then the corner of his mouth crooked up in a rueful half smile. “I suppose that is a perfectly dreadful reason, but the truth is, he never needed me. But England did. My work was—is—important. Thousands of lives have been saved thanks to our hard work. Somehow that seemed more important than retiring to the country to breed an heir to a title I never wanted.”
“Did you ever resent Edward?” she asked softly.
He looked away, guilt flashing in his eyes. “No! Yes…God…” His voice trailed off. “I am ashamed to say that at one time I did resent him. I used to think if he weren’t there that Father would love me. And then he died and all I could think about were the times I wished him away.”
“I wished my brothers away on more than one occasion,” she said wryly. “I think it’s the nature of having siblings.”
“I just wanted to have a relationship. Any sort of relationship with Father and Edward. Wanted us to be a family. When I joined the agency, it became my family.”
“But—”
“I trust no one,” he interrupted her before she could continue. “But I trust the men who have continually risked their lives alongside me to ensure England is safe from outside threats.”
She pressed her lips together and fell silent. His harsh whispers had risen above the still night air. His tone suggested no further discussion of the matter, and she had no desire to anger him further. Her own agitation had grown until her jaw ached from clamping it shut.
His hand reached for her arm, lifting it up then sliding his palm down until he entwined their fingers. “You can trust me, Isabella. I swear it.”
“It isn’t you I don’t trust,” she said simply.
Before he could respond, a noise sounded down the alley. She tensed and strained her eyes to see the source. Seconds later, the captain appeared out of the mist and she breathed a sigh of relief.
“Your Highness?” he called softly.
“We’re here,” she said standing up.
Merrick stood beside her as the captain stopped in front of them.
“The ship’s ready if you are.”
“Yes,” she said in a husky voice. “I’m ready. Ready to go home.”
Chapter Fifteen
Isabella gazed out at the ship with a mixture of hope and joy. Around her, preparations were under way as cargo was loaded and men hustled back and forth down the gangplank.
“Your Highness, you must hurry,” the captain hissed. “You mustn’t be seen.”
She was startled into action and quickly climbed into the large crate. As she settled down, the lid closed above her and she felt a moment’s panic. For several seconds, she breathed heavily, convinced she had no air. Then she felt a cool draft and relaxed.
The crate surged upward as it was hoisted, and she swayed and rocked as the men loaded it onto the ship. The captain had explained that the crates she and Merrick had hidden in would be loaded first so that other cargo would be placed on top. Only after the ship was well at sea would the crew dig them out.
Once again she offered a silent prayer that they sailed from Dover unmolested. She closed her eyes tightly and called up the faces of her beloved family and the vivid images of her homeland. Soon, if all went well, she would be back on Leaudorian soil. And then she would seek justice for the crimes against her loved ones.
The entire crate shook as it hit the ground, jarring her uncomfortably. Excitement curled in her stomach. She was aboard the ship. Using every ounce of self control, she willed herself to relax in the darkness and wait.
An eternity later, she felt the floor beneath her surge. The increased rocking motion signaled their departure. They were underway.
She closed her eyes and a single tear escaped down her cheek. She was on her way home. The creaking and groaning in the boards around her comforted her and lulled her closer to sleep.
How long she dozed she wasn’t certain. Her eyes fluttered open, awareness creeping over her. She blinked rapidly and strained her ears for the source of her alarm.
Then she heard scraping and banging, loud thumps getting closer and closer. Surely it wasn’t time for the captain to release her and Merrick yet.
She held her breath, trying to hear the distant voices. They became louder until finally she was able to make out what they were saying.
“I’m sure the captain will have no objection to our searching his cargo,” an unfamiliar voice said.
“I certainly do,” the captain huffed. “What’s the meaning of this? You said you merely wanted to inspect the cargo hold.”
“I do, my good captain, but in order to ascertain whether smuggled goods are aboard, it is necessary to inspect the crates as well.”
“I must protest. Under whose authority do you commit such a search?”
“His Highness, the Prince Regent,” the man replied.
She jumped when she heard a crack above her. More splintering of wood and the sound of the crates sliding over the tops of one another. She pressed a knuckled fist to her mouth, trying desperately to remain calm.
“What’s the meaning of this, Captain?” the man demanded. “The crates are empty.”
“Aye, they are,” the captain said with a chuckle. “That’s what usually occurs when we are sailing to collect goods.”
“And what exactly do you plan to collect?” the man asked in a suspicious sounding voice.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” the captain bit back.
Suddenly shouts erupted and scuffling ensued. Wood crashed around her. Grunts, thumps, cries of pain pierced the wooden crate she was hidden in. What was going on? Would she be found out?
As the noise grew louder, she pounded her palm upward, trying to open the lid, but apparently another crate still lay on top because it wouldn’t budge.
She settled back in frustration as the din increased. The crate shook then she was thrown to one side as it slid several feet over.
After several minutes of complete mayhem, silence suddenly fell. Then she heard footsteps. Louder and closer until they stopped right beside her crate. The top shook as the crate trapping her in was shoved to the side.
Her mouth went completely dry. She blinked rapidly, praying the sudden light would not blind her. She had to be prepared to fight.
She heard the lock click and then rattle as it was thrown to the side. Every muscle in her body tensed in preparation for the lid to open. Sweat beaded her forehead and trickled down her neck as her dread increased.
She braced her hands on either side as the lid slowly started to open. Her legs arched and she prepared to lash out.
Then Merrick’s head appeared over the side, and all the tension left her body in one fell swoop. She sagged against the bottom like a limp washing rag.
“It’s safe now,” he said, extending a hand to help pull her out.
As her head cleared the top of the crate, she looked out to see chaos around her. The entire cargo hold looked like a war had been waged. In the far corner, three surly looking men sat bound together. The captain and several members of his crew stood to the side holding pistols on the captured men.
“What happened?” she demanded as she stepped over the side of the crate. Merrick held his arms out and lowered her to the floor beside him.
“These men came aboard posing as inspectors. Never mind that we haven’t such in England,” he said dryly. “Their accents are as deplorable as their manners.”
“They
are Leaudorian?” she asked, her eyes growing wide. Not waiting for an answer, she rushed forward. She stood above the tied up men and stared down at them with all the royal bearing she could muster. “Who are you?”
They grunted at her in response.
“Well, you obviously know who I am,” she said in a steely voice. She turned and walked a few steps away then turned back to them in a casual stance. “And you also must know that when I return to Leaudor, I become queen.”
A flicker of fear shone in the eyes of the man in front before he looked down.
“And you must also know what we do with traitors in Leaudor.” Her voice was icy now and conveyed all the hatred she felt for the people who had murdered her family.
“You won’t ever be queen,” one of the other men spat.
She fixed him with a glacial stare. “Yes, I will. And when I am queen, you three will rot in Laugerfeld.”
Two of them paled at the mention of the much feared prison. Most preferred death to a sentence there, and it was reserved only for the most heinous of criminals in Leaudor. Indeed in the past one hundred years, it had housed only twenty-five persons.
“Can you lock them away, Captain?” she asked, walking calmly over to where he stood. “Perhaps if they later decide to speak to their queen, she might consider a lesser sentence.”
With a haughty flip of her head, she nodded to Merrick to assist her from the cargo hold. He obeyed without question, an astonished look on his face.
A few minutes later, they were topside, and she uncurled her fingers from the tight fists she had formed. She rubbed her hands over her arms to warm herself then blew on her hands. Anger still simmered beneath her surface, and she fought to relax her clenched jaw. No one. Absolutely no one would keep her from her goal. She would lie cold in her grave before she allowed Montagne a clear path to the throne.
Coward. Couldn’t even face her himself. Had inept henchmen to do his dirty work for him.
She let out a deep calming breath and moved to the side rail of the ship. In the distance, she could make out the faint outline of Dover as they put more distance between them and England. And brought her one step closer to going home and fulfilling her destiny.