Her Majesty, My Love

Princess Isabella Chastaine holds the fate of her tiny island nation in her hands. Literally. Escaping the men who murdered her parents, she flees to England with a sacred map outlining the location of ancient relics--items necessary for a new ruler to ascend the throne, items buried deep within the granite caves of her homeland.

Simon Rothmore, Earl of Merrick, has faithfully served the English crown since his recruitment into an elite secret agency. His newest task, deciphering the puzzling assassinations of the royal family of Leaudor, leads him to track down the only remaining member...Princess Isabella.

Betrayed by those closest to her, and deeply suspicious of possible English involvement, Isabella vows to return to her country and seek justice for her family. She will allow no one, especially not an arrogant English earl, to interfere in her quest.

But love has a way of uniting even the most unlikely souls. Together, they travel across two countries, encounter painful betrayals, complete a mystical quest, and forge a new destiny neither had dreamed possible.

Excerpt:

Wearily, he mounted the steps to his house and let himself in the door. The idea of hauling the princess to the palace against her will left a bad taste in his mouth.

He briefly flirted with the idea of letting the matter rest until morning, but by then she’d likely have found a way to escape again. Resolving to confront the recalcitrant princess, he strode up to his bedchamber and retrieved the key from his coat pocket.

As he opened the door, he felt a flash of guilt for disturbing her when she so obviously needed rest. But when he looked around the room, he found her standing at the window, her back to the door. She was still attired in the breeches he had found her in, and her bottom was clearly outlined by the tight material. Extremely tight material.

The soft contours of her body were there in all their glory for him to behold. He almost made a sound of disgust. Self-disgust. Because try as he might, he could not drag his gaze from her pleasing shape. He felt an odd stirring, not all together unpleasing, deep within the inner workings of his body.

The idea that anyone could possibly mistake her for a lad was laughable. She was fortunate that he had been the one to find her and not someone without her best interests at heart.

When the door closed with a soft click, she whirled around, her long ebony hair swinging around her. Even in her state of dishabille she was magnificent. She fixed her gaze on him. “My jailor returns.”

“I see your disposition hasn’t improved in my absence.”

The shuttered look he had grown to hate closed over her face. He could well imagine the anger boiling beneath the calm façade though.

He sat down on the bed and met her stare head on. “I’ve tried what I can to make you trust me, and I realize that it’s not something I can earn in the short amount of time we’ve been acquainted. So I have no choice but to do as the crown directs me. In the morning, I will convey you to the palace for a private audience with the prince regent.”

“No.”

Her one word response took him by surprise, but then he had yet to be impressed with her verbosity.

“No? Perhaps you misunderstood me. I am not offering you a choice in the matter.”

A dull red flush worked slowly across her face. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. “So you’ll sacrifice me for the sake of your duty?”

His brow furrowed and he studied her in confusion. “What is it you aren’t telling me, Princess? Because if you want something from me, now is the time to speak up. I can’t help you if you aren’t going to be completely honest with me.”

She bit her lip then opened and closed her mouth, clearly undecided as to whether or not she should confide in him. Finally she leveled a hard stare at him and said, “I suppose it matters not if you are to deliver me to the palace anyway. The fact is, your prince has already betrayed me once, and if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to not give him another chance to murder me.”

Isabella watched as Lord Merrick’s mouth fell open even as his eyes hardened. “That is a very serious charge.”

She nearly growled in frustration. “Of course it is. I consider murder a serious charge, indeed.”

“I assume you have sound proof else you wouldn’t be accusing the regent of such conduct.”

She studied him for a long moment. Truly, she hadn’t wanted to confide in anyone in this Godforsaken country, but now it appeared she had little choice. Davide was gone, and with him, anyone in England she could trust.

Biting her lip, she struggled with just how much she should relate to this man. She had little hope he would believe her. He was rooted solidly in his loyalty to the crown. An admirable quality.

Too bad more of her own subjects hadn’t the same loyalty.

She turned away from him and stared out the window once more. Footsteps sounded on the floor when he rose from the bed and moved closer to her. His hand grasped her arm and spun her around to face him. “What do you mean when you say the regent betrayed you?”

It wasn’t a request, it was a command, and she was unused to taking commands. Her mouth opened at his daring, but he didn’t back down. “If you want me to help you, princess, I suggest you start talking.”

“Take your hand from me at once,” she said icily.

His lips compressed, and he released her arm, but he didn’t move an inch back. “Your time is running out. You can either tell me or tell the regent.”

She rubbed her arm absently, though he hadn’t harmed her in any way. But his touch lingered, and she didn’t like it. It would not matter if she confided in him. Regardless of his reaction, she would not allow him to take her to the palace. And maybe, just maybe, he would help her.

“When I arrived in England, I sent word to the palace seeking the regent’s aid and protection. I didn’t know who I could trust. Father has always thought highly of England, which is why I decided to take a chance and come here.”

A sob knotted in her throat and she swallowed it down, determined not to allow her grief to overcome her. “I received a missive bearing the regent’s seal. In it were instructions for where to meet his personal envoy. When I arrived at the meeting place, I was nearly killed. I managed to escape, but clearly, the regent, or someone very close to him, didn’t wish for me to live.”

Indecision mixed with utter disbelief clouded the earl’s face. “I have several problems with that account. I cannot believe the regent would plot to kill you. He is far too interested in finding out why your family was killed. England has much at stake.

“And,” he said drawing out the last word, “if the Regent knew of your presence in England, I would have been one of the first to know. I have personally overseen the effort to locate you.”

“Your statements reek of naiveté,” she said with a scoff. “Do you honestly think your regent shares every piece of information with you?”

“I have no doubt there is much the prince doesn’t deem fit to share with me, however, he is most concerned with the situation in Leaudor, and I cannot countenance him being part of the plot to murder your family.”

Angrily she yanked her shirt from her breeches. She bunched the material in her fist and raised the shirt to bare her stomach. “Does this look like something I imagined?”

He didn’t look overly impressed by her dramatic display. “What happened?”

Her fingers automatically traced the still tender gash on her abdomen, then remembering she had bared her flesh in front of a strange man, she yanked the shirt back down. “The regent’s henchmen wielded knives.”

He looked at her skeptically. “And how did you manage to escape?”

“I told you I am quite capable of taking care of myself,” she said through gritted teeth.

He stepped back, widening the space between them. But his gaze still bore into her. “Tell me everything that happened.”

“I believe I’ve already told you what happened.” Her patience was wearing thin, and her desire to get away from this man was becoming stronger by the moment.

She turned away from him and stared out the window like one longing for freedom from behind the bars of prison. She hadn’t much time. The people who had killed her family would seek to install a new ruler unless she could return in time to stop them. They would steal her people’s legacy.

Her fingers itched to fold around the parchment secured between her breasts. She curled them at her side to staunch the urge. Without the map, no one could find the ancient caves. She held tight to that thought and prayed she could return in time.

His breath blew hot on her neck and she tensed. Once again, she felt herself twisted around to face him. “Tell me word for word what happened when you went to meet this envoy.”

She searched his blazing eyes for sinister intent, but all she saw was determination. She glanced pointedly down at his hands, and he slowly uncurled his fingers from her forearms.

“I went to an inn off the north posting road. I collected a message from the innkeeper that directed me to a room upstairs. I did not feel very comfortable walking into a room unaware.”

Lord Merrick nodded approvingly.

“So, I knocked then slipped down the hall a ways to see who answered. But someone grabbed me from behind and propelled me into the room. There were three men, and one held a knife to my neck. I knew they were going to kill me so I fought them. I was stabbed before I jumped from the window.”

He gaped incredulously at her. “You expect me to believe you fought off three men and jumped from a window? Well, the window part I believe,” he muttered.

Anger surged through her veins. She grasped his upper arm and in one smooth movement rocked her hip into his groin and threw him over her shoulder.

He landed with a thud, his face a mask of shock.

She folded her arms over her chest and stared down at him triumphantly. “Believe it now, my lord?”