He ignored her and continued his grueling pace. Just when she was convinced she could go no farther, he stopped in front of a run-down building. Pulling her inside, he shut the door and locked it. Then he walked into what appeared to be the kitchen and opened the pantry. He gestured for her to follow.
Once again she found herself inside a passageway as they traveled down a set of stairs. After fumbling in the dark for several long seconds, they entered a larger room where he lit an oil lamp.
Grateful to be off her abused feet, she sank into a tattered sofa. She gathered a nearby blanket and wrapped it around her shivering body. “Where are we?”
“Somewhere safe.”
She watched as he started a fire in the old stove sitting in the corner. Then he stood up and walked over to where she sat. “Let me see your feet.”
“They are fine,” she said, pulling them further underneath her.
“Look, Princess, you are not much use if you can’t walk. We need to warm them.”
“Please. Call me Isabella,” she said softly.
“All right, Isabella.” He said her name cautiously, but she loved the way it rolled off his tongue. His British accent gave her name a sensual tone she was drawn to.
He gently pulled the boots from her feet, and after a disgusted look at the worn soles, tossed them to the side. He took her feet in his warm hands, and she closed her eyes as he began massaging them. Exquisite pleasure mixed with fatigue washed over her in an overwhelming wave. It had been longer than she could remember since she had slept. Really slept.
As he continued rubbing her feet, icy pin pricks assaulted her soles. She let out an involuntary groan as the feeling came back with a vengeance.
“It will only last a moment,” he said reassuringly.
To her amazement, he brought up her feet and planted them against his chest, wrapping his arms around them. His warmth crept into her legs and up her body, encompassing her completely. A peculiar tingle raced up her spine, raising the hair on her neck.
She struggled to loosen his hold on her legs. “I’m all right now,” she said hastily, drawing her legs back underneath her. She’d experienced no personal contact since her family’s death, and the earl’s attention struck a powerful need within her. Something she had no desire to examine in her current situation.
He dropped his hands to his sides and rocked back on his heels. “I don’t like to admit it, but I think you may have been right,” he said in a low voice.
Her eyes widened and she stared curiously at him.
“No one could have known where you were so quickly.”
She shivered and not from the cold. Anger burned brightly in his eyes, making him appear menacing. And very, very dangerous.
“The question is why,” she murmured. “What could England possibly have to gain?”
She resisted the urge to slip her hand into her shirt to feel for the map. It was still there. She could feel it against her cold skin. The fewer people who knew of its existence the better, and she had yet to discern the earl’s role in the whole affair.
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out,” he said in a determined voice. “For now we wait.”
“For what?”
“Not what, whom. Kirk will be here in a few hours.”
“Who is Kirk, how does he know where to find us, and more importantly why are you trusting him?”
“We are the only two who know of this hiding place. When he arrives at my house in the morning and finds the bodies, he’ll know where to look for me.”
She paused for a moment, not at all sure she wanted to know the answer to her next question. “If…if the English crown is involved, what do we do then?”
“That’s a good question, Isabella. One I don’t have the answer to…yet.”
Chapter Five
It was an hour past dawn, and still no sign of Kirk. Simon paced softly, stopping periodically to check his timepiece. He glanced over at the sleeping princess. She was huddled underneath the thin blanket, her head resting on the arm of the sofa. It had taken every ounce of his persuasion to convince her to rest while he kept watch, and finally, her eyes had fluttered closed.
Even after he saved her from her attackers, she didn’t fully trust him. While it irked him, he could understand her reticence. In her position, he wouldn’t likely trust anyone either. But he admired her tenacity. She was unlike any woman he had ever met.
