“I’m fine,” she said tightly.
“Then,Your Highness, I think we have much to discuss.”
Chapter Three
Isabella blinked in surprise but quickly attempted to mask any reaction she had to his statement. Her heart beat thunderously in a rapid staccato, but she forced a note of puzzlement into her voice. “My lord, I fear you have been more affected by the cold than I. Why do you address me so?”
“Let’s not prevaricate, Your Highness. Too much is at stake. I know who you are. I’ve known since before I intercepted you on the bridge.”
He stared at her, his earlier air of harmlessness gone. Intense brown eyes, nearly as dark as his hair, assessed her broodingly. She shivered involuntarily. The man who she was so confident she could escape from earlier was gone. In his place stood a formidable adversary, one capable of stripping past the layers of deception she had constructed.
“I beg your pardon, my lord, but I feel you must have mistaken me for someone else.”
He sat down on the bed beside her, and it took every ounce of self-discipline not to shrink away from him. “It is imperative that we indulge in honest dialogue. Not only is your life at stake, but the security of my country could very well be in jeopardy.”
“Are you threatening me?” Forgotten for a moment was her choking fear, and in its place a simmering anger took control. She would not be bullied or intimidated. She had lost far too much to cower like a hapless maiden. If this Englishman thought she was a weak, helpless woman, then he was in for quite a shock.
His face hardened. “Indeed not, Your Highness. I seek to protect you from those who would do you harm. I should have been more forthcoming, but I didn’t want to frighten you until I was absolutely certain of your identity.”
“Forgive me if I don’t fall at your feet in gratitude,” she said sharply. “I trust no one.”
“In your position, neither would I.”
“Enough of your coaxing. If you feel I am the princess you speak of, there is nothing I can do to persuade you differently. It matters not to me who you think I am. And while I appreciate your aid, I must take my leave at once.”
“I never said I thought you were a princess,” he said mildly.
Damn her slip, and damn his quick pick-up on her mistake. She looked hastily around the room, assessing her possibilities.
“I wouldn’t advise going out this window,” he said with a slight smile. “The rose bushes below would not afford a nice landing.”
“You intend to keep me prisoner then?”
“If necessary.”
She raised an eyebrow. “By whose authority are you holding me against my will?” Her mind raced as she sought to distract him with her questioning. How could she escape? This man could very well be sent by the regent to do away with her. But why would he have delayed? He could have easily killed her before, but instead, he had seemed more concerned with her welfare.
Unless he wanted to extract information from her before killing her. She set her lips in a firm line. He clearly had no idea who he was dealing with. He would get nothing from her, but neither would he be successful in his attempt to end the rule of the Chastaines. She was queen now, and with her dying breath, she would serve her people and continue the legacy of her father’s reign.
“Clearly we’ve gotten off to a very bad start. I intend you no harm. Quite the contrary. I have been desperate to find you so that I could keep you safe. I only regret that I did not find your brother in time.”
Raw agony ripped through her chest. Her swift intake of breath made her lightheaded, and she bit the inside of her cheek to control the rush of tears to her eyes. For several long seconds, she struggled to regain control of her emotions.
“What do you know about my brother?” She meant it to be a demand, but it came out as a plea, and she winced at the pain she heard in her voice.
To his credit, he didn’t taunt her sudden reversal of denying her identity. His eyes were soft with pity. He reached a hand out to cover hers, and she yanked back as a warm sensation raced up her arm.
She looked guardedly at him, waiting for his answer, dreading what he had to say.
“I only know he was killed as he got off a ship in Harwich.”
His tone reflected sympathy, but then it could very well be an act to gain her trust.
“We had thought you both had fled to America, but when we found the prince’s body, we realized you were probably here.”
“Who exactly is we?” she asked, her suspicion of him growing by the minute.
“The people I work with.”
