He said nothing, just held her tighter as they rode on. She was grateful. It irked her to continuously become a watering pot on him, and it seemed since they had met, that is precisely all she had done.
As more tears fell, so did his kisses on her hair. The frigid air blew cold on her damp cheeks but she was grateful for the discomfort. She was alive. She could feel. And she could feel the warmth emanating from Merrick. Feel his heart beat against her back. Feel his strong arms around her. And for the moment, she could forget that he had just killed three men.
As her tears subsided and she stopped shaking, weariness settled over her. Her cheek throbbed from the repeated slaps and the cut at her neck stung with each movement.
“You need rest,” Merrick spoke up. “But we must get to the captain’s home. Can you make it?”
His voice was filled with such regret and concern, that she immediately straightened against him and firmed her spine.
“I am quite well, Merrick. By all means, let’s hasten to hire our ship. There will be time to rest once we are on board.”
“I won’t fail you again,” he said firmly.
Her heart contracted. His words sent shivers over her entire body. “You didn’t fail me, Merrick,” she said softly. “You are the only person who gives a damn whether I live or die.”
He didn’t respond, but his hold on her never loosened. They traveled for another hour, picking their way down a badly kept road. Eventually it dissolved away into the landscape, the road disappearing altogether.
After a short time, they reached a small clearing. Nestled against a backdrop of a dense forest was a well-kept cottage. Merrick dismounted a distance from the door and reached up to help Isabella down.
She slid into his arms and he set her gently on the ground. They hadn’t taken three steps when a voice called out to them from the cottage. “Don’t come any further or I’ll shoot you.”
They stopped immediately and Merrick held his hands up in front of him. “We mean you no harm,” he called loudly toward the cottage. “We are here to see Captain Martin.”
“I know why you are here and the answer is no. I’m not interested in taking anyone to Leaudor.”
Unwilling to accept defeat, Isabella stepped forward.
“Isabella, no,” Merrick said putting out a hand to stop her.
But she ignored his outstretched hand. “Captain Martin, please at least listen to me.” She strode toward the cottage, determined to air her case.
“Don’t come any further,” the captain shouted. “I’ll shoot.”
She paused for a moment then called out, “Then shoot me, but I’m not leaving until you at least hear us out.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, she put her feet forward again, praying that the man was only bluffing. The captain represented her only hope of returning home, and she would not simply leave. Too much was at stake.
To her surprise, the front door opened, and a large older man stepped out. His hair was graying, and he wore a patchy beard. His clothing was worn, but neat, and his boots were polished.
He leveled a pistol at her. “You’ve got two minutes before I start shooting so you better talk fast.”
Isabella gulped nervously but didn’t want to waste any of the two minutes. “How did you know we wanted passage to Leaudor?”
Had they already been found out? Was someone waiting for them in town? Had she been right to fear discovery by traveling through Dover?
The man grunted. “There isn’t a soul in this area that hasn’t heard of the criminals seeking passage to Leaudor. There is a reward for your capture.”
“We are not criminals,” she said hotly. “And we need passage to Leaudor. It is of utmost importance that we get there posthaste.”
“I’ve already said no,” the man growled.
“We can pay you very well.”
“I don’t want your money,” he said cutting her off before she could go on. “No amount of money would make me go back to that Godforsaken land.”
Confusion and surprise registered at the same time. “Why do you call it Godforsaken?”
He looked at her in disgust. “The entire country’s in turmoil.”
