Anger surged through her veins. She grasped his upper arm and in one smooth movement rocked her hip into his groin and threw him over her shoulder.
He landed with a thud, his face a mask of shock.
She folded her arms over her chest and stared down at him triumphantly. “Believe it now, my lord?”
Chapter Four
Simon stared up at the ceiling, stunned by what had just transpired. One minute he had been standing in front of the princess, and the next he was lying on the floor.
The princess’s face came into view as she peered down at him, her arms crossed over her chest. She wasgrinning. It was the first time she had smiled in his presence and it completely transformed her face. Twin dimples dotted her cheeks and her eyes twinkled with merriment. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was stunning. He didn’t know if he was more breathless from the fall or the way she was looking at him. But both made him deuced uncomfortable.
She extended a hand to him, and he grasped her palm, enjoying the feel of her smooth skin. Slowly he got up and looked guardedly at her. She returned his scrutiny, chewing on her bottom lip in what looked like an attempt to stifle a chuckle. He wondered if her laughter would sound as beautiful as she looked.
“Where did you learn to do that?” He wanted to rub his back but wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
“I learned at a very young age how to defend myself. Father Ling, the senior monk at theSacre Foimonastery, mentored me from the time I was old enough to start learning the ancient ways.”
The idea of a royal princess learning to defend herself was ludicrous. And she’d learned from a monk? If he didn’t think she would throw him again, he’d laugh out loud.
“Don’t you have personal guards charged with your protection?”
She gazed at him as if he was a complete imbecile. “And these guards kept my family from harm?”
The question was apt and cut directly to the point. The men charged with the royal family’s safety had failed miserably in their duty. In the face of such disaster, the princess’s training may well have saved her life. Perhaps “ludicrous” wasn’t the appropriate term for it.
A thought struck him as he weighed the oddity of her talents. Had her father suspected treachery in the royal ranks? Had this been the reason for Isabella’s devotion to self-protection? Or had it merely been a lark an indulgent father granted his only daughter? He would only know if the princess related the events of that terrible day.
“How did it happen?” he asked quietly. He had a hundred questions, but tempered his eagerness to get to the heart of the matter.
“I don’t have any wish to recount the experience,” she said with a slight shiver.
The statement was firm and accentuated by the upward tilt of her chin. A gesture he was already fast associating with her stubbornness. But pain flashed in her eyes, and he knew, indeed, the memories were burning a trail of agony through her mind.
He understood her reluctance to give life to those horrible scenes, but if he was going to help her, he had to know everything she knew and more.
“How did you and your brother manage to escape death?”
Bright tears glittered unshed in her eyes. “We were lucky.”
He waited expectantly for more, but she set her lips and averted her gaze. Shaking his head, he quashed the frustration he felt mounting once more. He ached to comfort her but would not allow himself to show such weakness in front of her. “You should get some rest, Princess. In the morning we have a meeting with the regent.”
“That’s what you think,” she muttered.
He swung back around. “Pardon?”
She cleared her throat. “Leave me so I may rest.”
He raised an eyebrow at her imperious tone, but turned and exited the room. The battle would come in the morning. No need to end the night with confrontation.
* * *
Isabella tossed restlessly in her bed. She had dressed once more after Mrs. Turnbull had attended her. She couldn’t afford to be lax, not when she needed to find a way to escape. But now she was without boots. The earl obviously underestimated her desire to be free of him and England if he thought being without shoes would deter her from her objective.
She wasn’t even sure why she had chosen to lie down. Escape was of the utmost importance. But the warmth offered by the heavy covers had lured her away from the cold window.
She had allowed the fire to die down, preferring the silence over the popping and snapping of the flames. The quiet settled over the room, and her ears were attuned to any changes in the atmosphere.
It felt strange to lie in his bed. He seemed to surround her. His scent was entrenched in the pillows. Earlier, as soon as he had left the room, she had searched the chambers for any information on the enigmatic earl, but there was little to find.
