“Do you not have faith in me?” She let the words dangle in the air, pinning him with the force of her gaze.
“I—” He broke off and looked away. He took her hands in his. “I do believe in you, Isabella. If that means I have faith in you, then I do. You are the only person I believe in, and if anyone can succeed in this, you can.”
She could not contain the broad smile at his admission. “If you have faith in me, then realize I would do nothing to jeopardize my life or the future of my country.”
She turned to the rope bridge and the few wooden planks that served as steps and sighed. “I know it seems crazy, but I know this is the way I am supposed to go. Have faith in me, Merrick. I won’t let you down.”
“I’m going first,” he said firmly, pushing her out of the way.
He stepped gingerly onto the first plank, gripping the rope with his left hand and holding the torch in his right hand. With extreme caution, he put forth his other foot and stepped to the next one. The bridge swayed under his weight, and he stood still for a moment to steady it.
She watched as he moved forward again, her chest tightening at his demonstration of concern for her. He believed in her. Had faith in her when he had no other faith. When everyone else in his life had let him down. God, this man meant more to her than anything. She stopped short in her thoughts, mortification surging over her. She had been about to say he meant more to her than any crown. More than this quest, more than avenging her parents.
But she couldn’t allow herself to think such thoughts. Couldn’t become weak. Revenge had gotten her this far, and it would sustain her until Jacques was dead or in prison, and she was on the throne. She had no room for any other emotion.
She looked back up to see Merrick step safely to the other side and relief lessened the horrendous weight she felt pressing down on her. Now it was her turn.
“Put your torch down,” he called out. “Use both your hands to hold on. We can use my torch. Just take it slow and easy and don’t rush.”
After laying aside her torch so it still lit her way, she grabbed the rope in her hands and stepped onto the first plank. Sweat broke out on her forehead, and she sucked in her bottom lip, afraid to even breathe. Closing her eyes, she reached out with her foot for the second step.
“Open your eyes,” he ordered. “Focus on me and don’t look down. You can do this.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and she stared across the distance to where he stood, torch in hand. Gritting her teeth in determination, she stepped forward again. She was halfway across when her foot slipped off the small plank. With a cry, she skidded sideways and tumbled off the bridge.
“Isabella!” she heard him shout as she shot downward.
She reached out with her hands and caught the rope. It burned her hand as she slid down but finally she stopped when her hand bumped against the next plank.
She dangled precariously holding on with one hand. Her legs swung below her, and the muscles in her arm screamed from bearing all of her weight. With strength born of desperation, she pulled herself up enough to grasp the rope with both hands.
“I’m all right,” she called, though she was anything but all right. She was inches from death, and she could feel her hands slipping.
“Isabella, listen to me,” he said in a determined voice. “Use your hands to grab the rope and come to me. Hand over hand, let go with one and move forward with it.”
“I can’t,” she said in a ragged voice. If she let go, she was sure to fall.
“You don’t have a choice,” he ground out. “You must do it or you will die. Or I will have to come out on the bridge to retrieve you, and then we will both die because it cannot hold both our weights.”
“Oh God.”
“Where’s your faith, Isabella?” he taunted. “You spoke of faith and asked me if I had faith in you. Well, I do and I know you can do this. Now I ask you, where’s your faith in me? You can do this.”
Why did he have to pick now of all times to be infuriatingly right? If she were standing next to him, she would punch him directly in the gut and tell him what he could do with his newfound faith.
But he was right, and damn it, she did have faith. Faith in herself and faith in her father. If he could do it, so could she. And he was guiding her.
Praying she didn’t plummet to her death, she let go with her left hand and quickly swung forward, grasping the rope. There, that wasn’t so bad. She let go with her right and swung forward another foot.
Shouldn’t she be there by now? But the side of the cliff seemed a mile away.
“Come on, Isabella, move. You can’t stop now.”
“Nag, nag,” she muttered. He sounded like a fishwife. But his words spurred her to action and she continued on.
One hand in front of the other. She ignored the fact that there was nothing below her and focused on Merrick’s hand which she could now see just yards in front of her.
“One more time,” he said, his voice sounding much closer.
