“But what aboutyou?” she asked softly. “Do you have family? Anyone that worries when you’re off saving princesses in distress?”
He cracked a half smile. “No family. No one to worry over me.”
She frowned, hearing the slight echo of pain in his voice. Or was it disappointment? He was uncomfortable talking about himself, but she was curious about this enigmatic man.
“What about your mother?” she asked. “I assume your father is dead since you are the earl.”
His features hardened and his body grew rigid. “She died giving birth to me.”
Isabella waited for him to speak further, but he remained silent. How awful that he had never known his mother. Perhaps in some ways it had been easier than losing her later in life. No. No matter how much she missed her own mother, how terrible the images of her death, she wouldn’t trade her childhood memories for anything.
“Did you love your family very much?” he asked, breaking the silence that had settled over them.
She gazed at him in surprise. What kind of question was that? Of course she loved her family, else she wouldn’t be here with him now, plotting her way back to Leaudor in order to exact vengeance in their name. Merrick spoke as a man who…
Realization hit her. A man who hadn’t shared the same kind of love with his family that she had with hers.
“Yes,” she finally said. “I loved them dearly.”
“Tell me about them,” he said, a slight edge to his voice.
She stared at him for a long moment. He seemed eager to hear about her family, yet his voice displayed only a polite interest.
“Well, let’s see. Stephane was the oldest. He was impatient even as a child. Very serious about his duty as the future king. He had a temper my father despaired of, but he was dedicated to learning everything he could about his impending role.”
She shifted on the pallet, rested her elbow on her knee then cupped her cheek in her palm. “In a lot of ways, Davide and I were lucky. Our childhood was relaxed, though our parents never encouraged Stephane to besofocused. It was his choice.
“Davide, I don’t think, was cut out to be king, though he would have been a good one. He was more interested in the ways of the monks. I think he would have given serious thought to joining the monastery.”
A smile eased the strain on her face. “We were a close family. Even as serious as Stephane was, he always had a smile for me and a quick tussle of my hair. But pleasing Father was everything to him, and something he worked constantly at.”
Merrick’s face twisted into one of disgust. “What a waste.”
She lifted a brow, confused by his reaction. “It was Stephane’s choice,” she defended. “Father was very proud of all of us. He never missed an opportunity to demonstrate his pride in us. Stephane merely took it further. He wanted to be the kind of king our father would approve of.”
Merrick shook his head but said nothing. After a long moment, he glanced up at her, a curious longing in his eyes. “And your mother? What was she like?”
Isabella caught her breath at the surge of pain that hit her. She offered a shaky smile, determined not to break down again. “She was wonderful. She smelled of sunshine and unconditional love. Her touch, her voice, was the most soothing I have ever experienced. She kept Father, our family, grounded. She was…the fundamental component in all our lives,” she said, struggling for just the right words to convey how very much her mother had meant to all of them. “I don’t know how I shall ever live without her,” she finished in a whisper.
“I’m sorry,” Merrick said in a low voice. “I didn’t intend to bring back painful memories. It’s just that I never knew my mother. I can’t fathom what it must have been like. My childhood consisted of a nurse and later a bag-faced governess who was overly fond of her ruler.”
Her heart ached for the little boy buried deep within the embittered man. She knew how fortunate she was to have had the family she’d had. Even for as short a time as it turned out to be.
“There must be someone you feel close to,” she murmured.
He smiled sardonically. “Kirk has been like a brother to me. The kind of brother I had always imagined having. Edward, my real brother, wasn’t…bad. I doubt he really gave me much thought. He didn’t hate me. One must be at least acquainted with someone to hate them.”
“And do you hate him?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I always admired him. Envied him. Longed to be everything he was.”
“What happened to him?”
“It’s nearly dawn,” he said, checking his timepiece. He rose, making no effort to continue their conversation.
She glanced toward the window, seeking confirmation from the dark sky. “I suppose we should be making ready then.”
He nodded. “I’ve thought of a plan if you would like to hear it.”
