And indeed, it appeared that she had considerable skills in fending off unwanted attackers. How else could she have escaped the two men in the bedroom? Her confidence in the hallway as she calmly gave him directions on which man to take down was no show. She clearly knew the odds were in her favor.
Not for the first time since her attack, he cursed himself for not taking greater care. Her assertion that the English crown was behind the plot to murder her had fallen on deaf ears. Until now. If she had been killed, he would have only had himself to blame for being so lax in his care of her. But it wouldn’t happen again.
He moved closer to her still form and slowly dropped his hand down to rest on her head. She had been very near collapse when they arrived at their hiding place. It had likely been several nights since she had last slept.
His fingers slipped into the satin mass of her hair. He traced a strand over her shoulder, enjoying the smoothness over his rough skin.
His gaze slid to the collar of her shirt, unbuttoned from her throat as if she’d sought relief from the strict confines of the material. He watched the soft rise and fall of her chest, the swell of her breasts pushing upward, providing a tantalizing glimpse. God Almighty, she had evidently bound her breasts as part of her ludicrous disguise. He would have noticed such a stunning display of femininity before. There was no doubt in his mind.
Milky white skin, unmarred by a single flaw peeked out behind the material of the shirt. He itched to touch it, to see if it felt as silky as it looked.
She was trouble of the first order. She made him examine thoughts best left unconsidered. Made him feel emotions, dangerous emotions, that he hadn’t experienced before. Emotions that had the power to strip away the protective layers of his soul.
How could one tiny slip of a woman bring to the surface the barrage of loneliness he hadn’t allowed himself to feel since he was a young boy desperate for his father’s approval? He’d long since closed the door on needing anyone. Self-reliance was an important trait he’d learned early in life. The hard way. By closing himself off from others, he gave no one the power to hurt him again. And he aimed to keep it that way.
He turned away from the sleeping princess, his hand trailing reluctantly from her hair. Discomfiting was the thought that if he allowed himself to become invested in her welfare, he could well open the door to just such hurt.
He would do his duty. He took immense pride in his profession. He would see the princess safely ensconced on the throne, but he would not allow himself to feel anything more than compassion for her losses.
A sound in the corridor startled him from his thoughts. He cursed his lack of attention and reached for the knife hidden in his boot. His untoward thoughts about the princess must be schooled if he was going to keep them alive. He hurried over to the doorway and waited with bated breath as the intruder shuffled closer.
Moments later, three short knocks sounded followed by one then three more. He let out his breath and cautiously opened the door. Kirk hurried in and shut the door behind him.
“I was worried,” he said glancing around the room.
“We’re safe. For now,” Simon said grimly.
Kirk shoved a small basket at him. “Thought you could use some food. Where’s the princess?”
Simon gestured over his shoulder then placed a finger to his lips.
“What the hell happened?” Kirk demanded in hushed tones. “I arrived at your house to find two dead bodies and an ailing butler.”
“Is Timmons all right?”
“He’s fine. Was cleaning up the carnage. Looked like hell though. Now tell me, who were the men?”
“I don’t know,” Simon replied darkly.
He rummaged in the basket and selected a small piece of bread. The rest he would save for Isabella. Laying aside the remainder of the food, he stared back up at Kirk. “We have a problem.”
Kirk raised an eyebrow. “Well, that much is obvious. But do continue.”
“Isabella has reason to believe that the regent wishes her dead. I didn’t believe her…until now.”
Kirk’s face became a mask of shock. “Surely you aren’t suggesting—”
“I’m not sure what I’m suggesting,” he broke in. “But this isn’t the first time Isabella has been set upon since her arrival in England. The first time was after she received word from the regent to meet his envoy. The second was last night.” It crossed his mind that he fully accepted her accounting. His instinct told him she was being truthful though.
He paused to let his words sink in then fixed Kirk with a pointed stare. “The men arrived just hours after the regent was informed of Isabella’s whereabouts.”
Kirk ran a hand through his hair then swore. “Why weren’t we told she was definitely in England if the regent knew? We were the ones who first suggested she might be here after we found the prince’s body in Harwich.”
“Good question,” Simon murmured.
“This is a disaster, Merrick. What are we going to do?”
“I’ve thought of little else all night. We cannot remain here. That much is certain. They will be looking for us.”
