She opened her mouth again, but Jacob didn’t give her a chance to speak.
“It’s been a long couple of days. You’ve barely eaten, you’ve barely slept, and you’ve just lost a fight with a tree.”
She scowled and he had to tamp down his amusement at her affronted expression.
“So, you can either let me help you here, or I can drag you back to where I found you two days ago. The choice is yours.”
He crossed his arms and waited, watching one emotion after another flit across her expressive face.
She’d make a terrible spy. She wore her emotions for the world to see.
Anger, irritation, worry, confusion, uncertainty.
Ah. There it was. Grudging acceptance.
“You won’t tell anyone where I am?” she mumbled quietly. Miserably. And Jacob felt that odd protectiveness well up again.
“Not a single soul,” he promised. And he meant it, too. Nobody needed to know she was here. Prince Christopher only needed to know she was safe and away from whoever posed a threat to the royal family.
The princess heaved a long-suffering sigh.
“Very well,” she said. “There’s an old, disused woodcutter’s cottage in the woods. That’s where I’m going.”
Jacob stared at her.
Her plan had been to stay in a rundown shack in the woods. Alone.
His gut twisted as he thought of a hundred ways danger could befall the headstrong princess if left to her own devices, but he was careful not to react, even as his heart soared with pride just a little at being taken into her confidence.
He was well aware of the leap of trust Princess Harriet had just taken by letting him in on her secret, and he didn’t plan to ruin the uneasy truce by interrogating her or shaking some sense into her.
The cut on her head was still bleeding, though it was light and didn’t seem to be affecting her senses. Not that she bloody had any.
But he still wanted to get her fed and warm and take care of the injury. Maybe then he’d be able to breathe properly.
“Lead the way,” he said softly, picking up her bags and waiting, ensuring that no trace of his riotous emotions showed on his face.
She watched him suspiciously for a moment before finally, grudgingly, nodding her consent.
Chapter Eleven
Harriet’s nerves were at a breaking point by the time the cottage’s hiding place came into view.
It was so well concealed. She was sure that if circumstances had been different, she could have stayed here undiscovered.
Hidden behind a copse of dense coniferous trees and situated at the bottom of a steep hill, it wouldn’t be easily spotted by anyone passing by.
Her shoulders slumped in disappointment. She’d almost gotten away with it.
Though they hadn’t spoken for an age, Harriet felt Mr. Lauer’s presence every step of the way.
He moved silently for someone so big, but she could feel him there nonetheless, even without the occasional nicker from the horse he led. The gig had been left in a small copse of trees by the roadside, and he had assured Harriet that nobody would find it.
Harriet’s whole body was aware of his presence, and she didn’t care to examine why that was.
The day had been trying enough without adding her confusing feelings about Mr. Lauer to the mix.
Like her secret relief that she wouldn’t be completely alone with a head injury to contend with.
Like the fluttering in her stomach when he’d called her beautiful, or when his face had been etched with worry as he tended to the injury that was his fault in the first place.
Harriet could tell herself that he hadn’t given her a choice about taking him into her confidence.
And he hadn’t. Not really. She had no doubt he would have dragged her back home rather than leave her alone here.
But the truth was that she trusted him. Whether or not she should.
Yes, she was taking a risk, but something told her that this man was capable and inherently good. That he wouldn’t hurt her or betray her trust.
And if she was wrong, well there was very little she could do about that now.
“We’re here,” she said quietly, feeling inexplicably shy.
They were completely alone with nobody around for miles.
Twilight had descended and the forest was becoming nothing more than shapes and shadows.
She turned to face Mr. Lauer, quite enjoying his frown of confusion.
“We are?” he asked. “Where?”
He pulled gently on the horse’s reins to bring the beast to a halt.
Since the horse wasn’t saddled, they’d had no choice but to walk. Mr. Lauer had wanted Harriet to sit atop the animal, but she’d been horrified enough for him to let the matter drop.
With no saddle, let alone a side saddle, and her in a carriage dress, it had been out of the question for Harriet. And when she’d pointed out the dangers of riding without a saddle through a dark forest in terrain neither she nor the horse were used to, he’d reluctantly agreed to let her walk.
Their bags, at least, were secured to the animal by the small amount of rope Mr. Lauer had found in the gig so they hadn’t had to carry them. Harriet was almost on her knees with exhaustion. Having to carry anything, even Mr. Lauer’s smaller valise, would have tipped her over the edge.
Her head pounded and her stomach felt sick.
She needed to lie down. But she’d die before admitting any weakness to her unwanted companion.
Instead of answering him, Harriet moved toward the clearing, knowing where the trail through the densely packed trees was.
Within minutes, the cottage came into view.
It was old and ramshackle, there was no doubt about it. And Harriet knew it wouldn’t be in any sort of good repair.
But still. Since childhood, it had felt like hers. A place where she didn’t have to be Princess Harriet. She could just be an ordinary girl living an ordinary life, free from the strictures she’d been born to.
Harriet was pleasantly surprised to see that the roof and windows were still mostly intact. There were holes in the thatch that she could see even from here, but no glass missing and nothing so bad as to make it unusable.
Over the years, she’d wondered if her little shack would crumble completely during the adverse weather Aldonia got during winter months.
But every time she came back here, she found it was still standing. And it always gave her a little burst of pleasure to find it so.
Usually, it was covered in feet of snow when she visited. She would stomp her way to the door and set about building a fire in the old stone grate. And then she would just sit for hours, enjoying the solitude. Reading tawdry novels. Eating the repast she always packed. Heating water by the fire and drinking tea and just being in charge of herself, if only for snippets of time.
She’d never seen it in the Spring.
And she’d never shared it with another person before.
Perhaps that’s why she felt so inexplicably on edge. That and the fact that she was alone in the middle of the woods with a man she’d only met two days prior.
“It’s certainly well hidden.”
Mr. Lauer’s wry tone brought Harriet’s mind back to the present. And her present predicament.
How long did he plan on staying with her? Surely he couldn’t expect to stay the night?
Yet trying to send him away again was futile, she knew.
He was as stubborn as an ox and would refuse to leave her, in any case.
He probably assumed that a lady who would run away from a respectable family all alone was the type of lady with loose morals who wouldn’t care about spending nights alone with a man.
But he couldn’t be more wrong!
Harriet didn’t want this experience to ruin her reputation.
And whilst it wouldn’t do her too much damage considering she was the Crown Princess, she still didn’t want people thinking such things of her.
The crown
would make her a desirable match, no matter what she did. Which was part of the reason for her running, she supposed. Being seen as a crown and not a person took its toll.
“Shall we, Miss Royal?”
Harriet was torn between wanting him to disappear and wanting him to stay.
Her head was pounding enough to make her feel quite nauseated. Her stomach was growling. She was cold, and tired, and—though she was loathe to admit it—rather scared.
Perhaps his company wouldn’t be so bad. He didn’t seem dangerous.
It was just that her heart had that annoying habit of picking up speed when he was around.
“Miss Royal?”
Harriet didn’t trust herself to speak at that particular moment, so she just took a step forward, leading the way inside her sanctuary and hoping she wasn’t making a colossal mistake.
Jacob watched carefully as Princess Harriet staggered slightly.
He felt like a fussing mother hen, but he couldn’t help it. She was fit to drop, even aside from her head injury.
Her hiding place had surprised him. He didn’t think a precious princess would stay in such a slum, though it was in good repair.
Someone had maintained it over the years, but he doubted it was the princess.
He could tell she was nervous and oddly, he felt a similar anxiety stir inside him.
He couldn’t even begin to imagine why, so instead of worrying about it, he just ignored it.
Princess Harriet pushed at the warped wooden door, which unsurprisingly didn’t give.
She darted a quick glance at him and he could see, even in the dwindling daylight, that her pupils were huge, the deep brown irises almost as dark. And her eyes were glassier than he was comfortable with.
It could be exhaustion. But what if it wasn’t?
Jacob’s anxiety kicked up a notch and he stepped forward.
“Allow me,” he said, not giving her the chance to argue because he was sure that she would.
A solid shove had the door giving way and Jacob stepped into the sparse, one-room cottage ahead of the princess, planning to chase away any scurrying creature that might frighten her.
The place, he was pleased to see, was in much better shape than he’d expected.
It was a bit dusty and slightly damp but not covered in feet of dust and grim as he’d worried it might be.
It wouldn’t take him half so long to make the princess comfortable now.
His eyes darted around the room, taking everything in.
There was a simple wooden cot in the corner with some blankets folded neatly in a pile at the end of the mattress, two rickety looking wooden chairs by the empty stone fireplace, with an even less stable looking table between them.
In the corner was a chest on which sat a teapot, two chipped mugs, and a motley collection of plates and bowls. Jacob moved to put the bags down by the chest.
He heard Princess Harriet step inside the cottage behind him, and he turned to face her.
“It’s not the worst place I’ve ever stayed.” He smiled, watching her closely. “However did you find such a place, Miss Royal?”
“Oh!” Even in the dark he could see her blush. “My – er – my family live, I mean lived, I mean – used to live close by. To here. Not too close.”
Jacob hid his smirk at her fumbling.
“And – and I came here as a girl. Nobody ever seemed to live in it or even know about it. So, I sort of adopted it. It’s my safe haven. Somewhere I can just – be myself.”
Jacob nodded as pieces of the puzzle fell into place.
It made sense now that the cottage was in decent enough repair. Princess Harriet probably thought this place was a secret. But Jacob guessed that Prince Christopher knew about it, as did the king, and both had made sure it was maintained and safe for the princess.
He felt sorry for the princess, thinking that she had a secret place. Her innocence surprised Jacob. Surely, she didn’t think that she went anywhere or did anything without the king knowing about it. It was so naïve for one so feisty. Perhaps that was why he found the lady so distractingly intriguing.
His heart twisted as he watched her eyes light with pride as they scanned the room.
Her father or brother, perhaps both, had obviously left the place alone enough for Princess Harriet to believe it was unknown to them.
For some reason, he felt a spurt of anger toward the royal family. He didn’t like the idea of them tricking her.
But isn’t that what you’re doing?
Jacob ignored the question rattling around his head. He was following orders. That wasn’t the same thing as allowing her to think she had a secret hiding place.
Besides, he didn’t have time to worry about silly emotions like guilt. He had a job to do. He needed to keep the princess safe from harm until the danger to the royal family had passed.
Or until she gave up on this ridiculous scheme and returned to the safety of the palace and the royal guard.
And letting her walk into a tree hadn’t been a good way to do that, he reminded himself fiercely.
“Let me start a fire,” he said evenly as his sharp eyes took in the wringing of her hands, the stiffness in her shoulders.
“Oh, that’s quite all right,” she answered, her smile as brittle as her faux-breezy tone. “I shan’t keep you any longer, Mr. Lauer. You’ve been so very helpful. But I can manage from here.”
He knew that she knew he wasn’t going to leave. Could tell by the hopeful light in her gaze, the defiant tilt of her chin. She was preparing for battle. He was starting to recognise the signs.
“We both know I’m not leaving, Miss Royal.” He tried to sound firm but unthreatening. “So, why don’t I make a fire and you can empty those bags, try to find something clean that I can tend to your head wound with.”
The wringing of her hands stopped.
“I hardly think that’s necessary. Tis just a scratch.”
Jacob sighed, making sure she knew how tedious he found her arguments. By the narrowing of her eyes, he’d guess that he’d conveyed his opinion rather well.
“Let’s not go through all of this again,” he said. “I’m not discussing or arguing about anything else until you’re comfortable and that wound is taken care of.”
“And then?” she asked with quite insulting hope.
“And then—” Jacob couldn’t resist a teasing grin. “We’ll get ourselves all cosy and settled down for the night.”
Chapter Twelve
At least her voice wasn’t shrill when she was angry, Jacob mused as he collected water from the stream that ran behind the cottage.
He didn’t think his ears could take her blistering if she had begun screeching.
There was no denying she was furious at his high-handedness.
He could handle her temper. Harder to handle was his bizarre attraction to it.
He’d escaped to get water, as much to let his ardour cool as her temper.
Dipping the bowl into the icy stream, Jacob contemplated throwing himself in there for good measure.
But, no.
Beautiful she may be. Spirited and courageous. But she was also spoilt, and argumentative, and unreasonable.
He didn’t need cold water to take the edge off his inexplicable desire for her. Her personality was sure to do that for him.
Feeling much more level-headed, he went back inside, grateful that the princess was where he’d instructed her to stay.
It wouldn’t have surprised him if she’d made a run for it.
But as he raked his gaze over her diminutive form huddled on the cot, Jacob realised that she was likely too exhausted to run anywhere.
Her cheeks were pale and her eyes glassy.
A spurt of guilt shook him, and Jacob knew he should go easier on the princess.
A strange man, a giant compared to her, had imposed himself on her in an isolated cottage miles from her home and her family.
Jacob knew he wouldn’t ever harm her, but the pr
incess didn’t know that—though he suspected that she trusted him, though likely begrudgingly.
She’d done as he had asked, at least, and he was pleased to see that she’d had the foresight to pack up some linen strips for her trip. They were laid out neatly beside her.
Her hair was tumbling down her back, the pins having been lost to the arduous journey, he’d imagine.
Jacob felt his throat dry as he watched the flames from the fire send light dancing over the sable curls, making them appear almost navy-blue at times.
He’d never seen hair as dark nor as luxurious. And his fingers itched to run through the tresses to see if they felt as silky as they looked.
Clearing his throat, he moved to the fire to heat the water, aware that he’d been gaping at her like a schoolboy with an infatuation.
“I don’t suppose you have food in there?” He nodded toward the bag that she hadn’t yet opened, sitting beside the one that she’d rummaged in for the bandages.
To his surprise, her face lit with a triumphant grin.
“I’m not completely without my senses, Mr. Lauer,” she said, and he was relieved that she’d lost some of that wide-eyed distrust that she’d been glaring at him with since he’d announced that he was staying at the cottage.
She’d ranted and raved, even while he’d moved her bodily to the cot and told her to sit.
It was only when he’d assured her that he’d sleep outside with the horse if it made her feel more comfortable that she’d finally settled down.
That, and the fact that she’d begun swaying alarmingly.
He answered her grin with one of his own. A truce was better than a war, after all.
“May I?” he asked and when she nodded, he lifted the bag and brought it to the table at the hearth.
Jacob’s eyes widened as he opened the valise and took in the contents.
There were breads, cheeses, cured meats. One pot contained tea leaves. Another, an assortment of biscuits and little pastries.
Protecting The Princess Page 7