Forgetting all about the gun he held in his hand, she rushed forward. “You must tell me what you mean,” she demanded, urgency threaded into her every word.
The captain’s eyes flickered, and he stared at her with a mixture of puzzlement and recognition. Then he blanched. With shaky hands, he removed his hat and dropped the pistol to the ground. “Princess Isabella, is that really you?”
Not waiting an answer, he knelt on the hard ground and bowed his head before her. “We thought you dead.”
She closed the remaining distance and grasped him by the arm, urging him to stand. Behind her, Merrick hurried forward, obviously satisfied that the man meant them no harm.
“Please, you must tell me everything. Have you been to Leaudor recently?”
The captain stood up, a sheen of tears in his eyes. “It’s not the same, Your Highness. What happened was terrible.” He looked over at Merrick with a suspicious glint in his eyes. “Who are you?”
“Simon Rothmore, Earl of Merrick,” he said crisply.
Again the captain bowed. “My apologies, my lord. I only wanted to ensure Her Highness was safe with you.”
“Are you a citizen of Leaudor?” she asked. His accent held slight tinges of her country, but not enough to convince her he was a native.
“I was born here in England, Your Highness, but I spent many years in Leaudor. I consider it my second home.” He gestured for them to follow him into the cottage.
Once inside, he busied himself building up the fire in the hearth. He fidgeted uncomfortably and motioned for them to sit on the threadbare sofa.
“I would be glad to be of service, Your Highness. I have a sturdy ship. She’s made the voyage to Leaudor a hundred times.”
Excitement swelled in her chest. “Thank you, Captain Martin. I am sure you know how important it is for me to return home.”
“You won’t have to look far for help once you arrive,” the captain said. “Jacques Montagne’s men are everywhere it seems.”
She frowned. “So he has been able to gain support?”
The captain looked strangely at her. “Why wouldn’t he be able to? He is, after all, the next ruler. That is, until you return. You were assumed dead once news of Prince Davide’s death arrived.”
Realization dawned. Of course no one would suspect Jacques’ involvement. Only she knew of his betrayal. “Tell me, Captain, what does everyone believe happened?”
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and glanced uneasily in Merrick’s direction. “Well, nothing official has been announced, but the general consensus is that England was behind the assassinations and that there is a plot for England to gain control of Leaudor.”
Merrick shot to his feet. “The devil, you say!” He began to pace in agitation. “I don’t like this, Isabella. Someone is going to great pains to make it appear as though England is behind this. Montagne is probably the one spreading the rumors.”
The captain glared at Merrick. “Montagne has done an admirable job of keeping Leaudor together in the wake of such a horrific tragedy. He has vowed revenge on whoever is responsible.”
Bile rolled in her stomach, and she fought against the urge to retch. “He is no saint,” she spat.
The captain looked at her in surprise.
“He is the one who murdered my parents. I witnessed their killings with my own eyes.”
Captain Martin paled and opened his mouth then closed it again as no words came forth.
“You see why we must get back to Leaudor with all haste,” Merrick said in a low voice.
“Dear God,” the older man said in a shaky voice. He dragged a hand over his head, replacing his cap then taking it off again. “The entire country is united behind him. All ready to take up arms against England at a moment’s notice.”
She and Merrick exchanged uneasy glances.
“There is much talk of an alliance with France,” the captain replied. “Again, nothing official, but it’s on the lips of every Leaudorian. Since their roots are French, many think it is time to reunite with them.”
Merrick swore. “This would be disastrous for England. We don’t need another war with France. And certainly not one spearheaded by a country bent on revenge.”
Isabella stood straight up, her fist to her mouth. “Oh my God,” she whispered.
