Prisoner Princess Page 12

  Kitt sighed deeply. “You got me a necklace... of guns?”

  Doon must have missed her sigh—or he failed to interpret it correctly—because he still looked pleased with himself. “Do you like it?”

  “Well... uh...” Kitt struggled to find the right words. She didn't want to hurt his feelings, nor did she want to sound too excited. “It's certainly very... you.”

  “So you don't like it?”

  Doon's grin started to vanish, so Kitt quickly corrected him. “No! Of course I like it! I like you, and the necklace reminds me of you, so why wouldn't I like it?” Kitt donned the necklace and forced her lips into a weak smile. “Thanks for the gift, Doon. It was very thoughtful of you.”

  Doon took a deep breath as he tried to remember the words of Julian Featherstone. He wanted to be with Kitt, but every time his gaze dropped to the bed, he was crippled by nerves. Doon never failed at anything, apart from showing his emotions. A few months ago, he barely even touched a person, let alone considered the possibility of bedding anyone. At times, his desire barely outweighed his reluctance.

  “I can't believe the prisoners got away,” Kitt suddenly said, redirecting Doon's thoughts. “Wasn't Bryce on the airship? I'm surprised he let them get away.”

  “I think he was on shore leave,” Doon defended his dim-witted companion. “He was supposed to oversee Julian's deck swabbing, but when it started to rain, he bolted.”

  “Well... I guess their escape isn't such a terrible thing,” Kitt said with a shrug. “Julian didn't seem like a bad man.”

  “He attacked me.”

  “True... but I think he regretted it.”

  “He was a pompous ass,” Doon shamelessly disparaged the other man. “Even worse, he was a pompous ass with a crush on you, so you can hardly blame me if I despise him.” Whether he despised him or not, Doon did appreciate Julian's advice. He was trying to work up the courage to try out a few of Featherstone's favorite lines on Kitt.

  “He didn't have a crush on me!”

  “He did,” Doon groaned. “Believe me, he did. I didn't like the way he looked at you. There were times when I wanted to throttle him within an inch of his life. And if I ever catch up to Jared Foster, don't be surprised if I skin him alive.”

  Kitt rolled her eyes, as she so often did in Doon's company. His randomly sputtered threats were never as impressive as he thought they were. Doon had an unfortunate addiction to violence, and after six months of living with him, Kitt was starting to realize she would never change him.

  An unexpected compliment suddenly flew from his lips. “You're a beautiful women, Kitt. I don't tell you that enough, but... you are.”

  A smile spread across Kitt's lips, and this time, it wasn't forced. “Do you really mean that?”

  “I do. Of course I do. I've never seen a lovelier woman in all my life.” He might have been reciting the words of Julian Featherstone, but Doon completely believed what he was saying.

  “That's surprisingly sweet of you, Doon.” Kitt's arms slid around his waist, pulling him closer. “I really do love you, you know.”

  “And I love you too, Kitten,” Doon whispered. “With all of my heart, I do.”

  For the first time in far too long, Doon leaned down to kiss her lips. As soon as his mouth brushed hers, there was a rapid tapping on the door.

  “Captain!” cried a sharp, urgent voice. “Captain, there's a problem that requires your attention!”

  “Wonderful...” Doon grumbled as he stomped across the room. Just when he was starting to feel comfortable with Kitt, someone had to interrupt him. When he saw Wyatt standing on the other side of the door, Doon had to summon a tremendous amount of willpower to stop himself from wrapping his fingers around the other man's neck. “What did you want?”

  Wyatt swept his beige newsboy cap from his head and held it over his heart. “I'm sorry, sir. I hate to interrupt you, sir, but there's a situation on the deck.”

  “What sort of situation?” Doon stepped into the hall, leaving Kitt behind. She would have preferred a friendly farewell over an abrupt dismissal, but the latter was nothing less than she expected from Francis Doon. As soon as there was an issue on the airship, her existence slipped from his mind.

  “We should probably make haste. I can give you a brief summary of the situation, but I think you have to hear it for yourself, sir,” Wyatt explained as they sprinted up the stairs. “In short, we're being followed by an Eversio airship. And they're making demands of us.”

  “Demands? What demands?”

  Within seconds of arriving on the deck, Doon had his answer. There was a booming megaphone message coming from the direction of the Eversio airship.

  “You are an unregistered vehicle flying in Columbigan airspace. Furthermore, you are flying pirate flags, which is no longer legal in this country. We must ask you to land your aircraft immediately. Failure to do so will result in damage to your airship. You have three minutes.”

  “They've been airing the same message, or some version of it, for the last five minutes... although we had more time back then,” Wyatt said. “I came to fetch you as soon as possible! What should we do, Captain?”

  Doon stroked his chin as he considered his options. The Eversio airship that drifted at their flank was oddly similar to a Royal Black Wings airship. He wondered if it had somehow been seized from Queen Lyneah. “Well, we're not landing the airship, I can tell you that much. Have the men prepare for battle, Wyatt. We need to--”

  Before Doon finished, and before the end of three minutes, Eversio's airship fired on them. They landed a direct hit, right on the center of the deck. The shot landed uncomfortably close to Captain Doon, who was thrown backward from the force of it. Wyatt was blown to bits before his very eyes.

  “Captaaaaaaaaaaaaaaain!” It was Bryce who was screaming for him. The big man dropped to his knees when he reached his captain's side. “Captain, are you awright?”

  When Doon sat up, a long groan erupted from his lips. While he didn't fare as poorly as Wyatt—not even close—his head hit the deck when he fell. “I'm alright, Bryce. At least... I think I'm alright.” Despite his throbbing head, Doon was back on his feet within seconds. Thoughts of sweet revenge were swirling through his mind. “We need to start firing back at them. If they want a fight, we'll give them a fight. If Eversio wants an enemy, they've got one.”

  “Impact incoming!” shouted one of Doon's men. Everyone on deck was bracing themselves, but the shot barely grazed them. Doon had participated in several airship battles, but only a few ever set his pulse to racing. Seeing Wyatt's body blown apart must have bothered him more than he realized. Most of this thoughts were for Kitt's safety, not for his. If anything ever happened to her, he knew he would never forgive himself.

  They were already within range, so Doon bypassed the helm and raced below deck. As he bounded down the stairs, he screamed, “Ready the cannons!” When they saw their captain loading the cannons with his own two hands, several of his crewmen looked surprised, especially those who were originally part of Julian Featherstone's crew.

  As soon as the cannons were loaded, Doon peered through a porthole, checking the enemy's location. On Doon's signal, his men unleashed a barrage on Eversio's airship. Only one shot hit its mark, so the enemy stayed afloat. It wasn't enough, not even close. “Reload... reload!” Doon screamed. Six months ago, he took on four Black Wings vessels and somehow emerged victorious. He couldn't allow himself to be taken by just one.

  A tremble rattled through Doon's airship. They were hit again. As they feverishly reloaded their cannons, Doon paused a moment. He thought he could feel his airship descending, but he hoped he was mistaken. And if they were descending, he hoped it was intentional and not because they were unable to maintain their altitude.

  As soon as the cannons were ready again, Doon screamed, “Fire!” Their second attack was a resounding success. A succession of shots exploded on the enemy's deck and flank, landing direct hit after direct hit. The enemy ship was
wrapped in a blanket of fire, and when Doon saw them descending at a much faster rate, he assumed he was successful. Eversio's airship was trounced.

  As he climbed his way to the deck, Doon's shoulders were tight with tension. He was immediately accosted by Miles, who gave him a somber damage report.

  “Part of the deck is blown apart, and there is significant damage to one of the masts. We also believe there could be some damage to one of the engines.” Miles raised his monocle so he could see the captain's reaction. While they ultimately emerged victorious, critical damage to their airship was an unprecedented event. “Unfortunately, we lost two members of our crew. You already know about Wyatt. Jonathan Frane has also passed away, I'm afraid.”

  “Damn...” Doon whispered the curse.

  “The crew is awaiting your next orders, sir,” Miles prompted him.

  “What would you suggest, Miles?”

  “Normally, looting the enemy would be an option, but given the circumstances, I believe our airship should be tended to immediately,” Miles said. “We should find a safe port and think about making repairs.”

  “Very well...” Doon sighed. He could have asked for another opinion, but Miles' mattered more than anyone's. Besides, Doon could tell they were struggling to stay airborne. “I suppose we should look for a proper mechanic. Let's head for the nearest town.”

  Nineteen

  When the cottage door opened, a wide-eyed Isabella cautiously peeked out of her bedroom. “Tom?” she whispered. “Mr. Harriot... is that you?”

  It was the dead of night, so she couldn't see his face until the lantern on the table was lit. “Yes. It's me. Are you alright? You look upset.”

  “Tom!” Isabella gasped his name and raced toward him. At first, he thought she was going to hug him, since she was running toward him with her arms outstretched. However, as the distance between them closed, Isabella's arms were folded over her chest. “Thank god you're back! I kept hearing noises. Voices.”

  Tom's eyebrow raised. “Is Vee not here?”

  “No. She left a few hours ago and she never came back. She even took Seelo,” Isabella said. “I've been alone for awhile. Maybe I'm paranoid, but I swear I heard someone outside. I'd swear it!”

  “Maybe you heard an animal.” Harriot slid his sword from its sheath and stepped toward the door. “There's no one on this island, but if you'd like, I can search the area for you.”

  “Could you?” When he took another step in the direction of the door, Isabella leapt forward and grabbed his arm. “Can I go with you? I don't want to be alone right now.”

  “Of course.” Harriot wrapped an arm around her back as he escorted her through the door. Isabella grabbed the lantern on the way out, because the sliver of moon didn't provide much light. “If you feel safe with me, Isabella, that means a lot to me. I want you to feel safe.”

  “I suppose I do feel safe,” Isabella admitted with a shrug. “At first, I might have been a bit wary of you, but now that I've gotten to know you, I don't think you'd actually hurt me.”

  “You're right. I wouldn't,” Tom assured her. “But there's more to it than that. I would never let anyone hurt you.”

  Isabella started to reach for his hand, but her arm dropped back to her side before she so much as grazed his fingers. In a soft voice, she replied, “I know.”

  As they combed the premises, Isabella stayed close to Tom's side. They found a coyote eating a rat near the lake's edge, as well as an owl hooting in a gnarled tree. Beyond that, the island was completely empty.

  “I'm sorry,” Isabella apologized. “I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. Maybe I heard the owl? I feel so foolish...”

  “You needn't apologize.” When they reached the cottage, Harriot held the door for her. “You've been through a lot. I can hardly blame you for being cautious.” As he closed and locked the door, he suddenly realized what a breakthrough they made. If Vee wasn't with her, Isabella could have left the cottage at any time. She chose to stay of her own accord. “I got a gift for you, Isabella.”

  “Oh?” She watched him reach into a small brown bag on the table.

  “I did. Vee told me you were looking around a sweet shop the other day, and you were especially interested in the strawberry cremes.” Harriot handed her a small box. “So I got you a dozen of them.”

  “That's very thoughtful of you, Tom,” Isabella said as she opened the box. The twelve fancy chocolates were painstakingly decorated and meticulously arranged. “These look delicious.” Isabella closed the box and eyed her bedroom door. “Do you think... you could sit with me for a bit? You don't have to stay long. I just want someone to talk to, at least for a little while.”

  “Of course.” Tom started to sit on the couch, but when he saw her head into her bedroom, he realized she wanted him to join her in there.

  As Isabella crawled into bed, Tom sat in a chair in the corner of her room. The princess nibbled her lip as she studied the stack of books beside her bed. Tom made a special trip across the lake to get them for her, and she already finished a few of them. Sighing, Isabella reached for the book on top of the stack.

  “Are the books not to your liking?” Harriot asked, noticing her sigh. “Because if you're not satisfied with your options, I could return to the bookstore and buy a few more.”

  “No... no. The books are fine.” Isabella sighed again as she opened her novel. “I'm just finding it difficult to focus on words.”

  “If you're still worried, you shouldn't be. We searched the entire island. There's no one here.”

  “No, it's not that.” Isabella tugged her blankets to her chin. “I just haven't been feeling particularly... well.”

  “You're ill?”

  “A bit. Well... more than a bit.”

  Concern poured into Harriot's eyes. “What's wrong?”

  “It's my... stomach.” Isabella tried to give him a vague answer, but he had already spoken to Vee, so he knew what afflicted her. She was experiencing a particular problem that affected only the female sex.

  “I learned a trick from my mother,” Tom said, rising from his chair. “I'll be back in a minute.”

  Panic flooded Isabella's face as she watched him go. If she was forced to have a conversation about what ailed her, she couldn't imagine anything more mortifying than that. “Please don't talk to me about my... feminine issues,” Isabella whispered a prayer to the ceiling. “Oh please, oh please...”

  When Harriot returned, he was holding a bottle in his hands. “Here, try this,” he said as he held it out to her. “It's filled with hot water. You press it against your stomach, and--”

  “Alright,” Isabella interrupted him with a hiss. She ripped the hot bottle from Harriot's fingers and shoved it beneath the blanket. Never in her life had she experienced a more embarrassing moment.

  “The hot water makes it--”

  “Okay,” Isabella interrupted again. “Let's stop talking about this, shall we?”

  Tom shrugged. He had enough experience with women that it wasn't a topic that made him anxious, but if Isabella was troubled, he wouldn't breathe another word about it. “Very well.”

  “Good. Now go... sit over there.” Isabella pointed at his chair. Despite her humiliation, she couldn't deny the effectiveness of Harriot's trick. When the hot bottle touched her stomach, its soothing effect was undeniable.

  “Would you like me to read to you?” Harriot asked, pointing at the book beside her bed. “You said it was difficult to focus on the words. Maybe it would be easier to listen?”

  “That is... not a bad idea.” Isabella handed him the book. “But I should probably try to sleep soon.”

  “Then I will only read a chapter or two. If you start to feel drowsy, you're welcome to kick me out of the room.” With the book in hand, Harriot returned to his chair.

  As soon as he started to read, Isabella closed her eyes and listened to the words. Her fears were subsiding, her pain was slowly diminishing, and his voice had a calming effect on her. A
s her ears tingled with delight, she swore she could feel her head melting into the pillow. For the first time since the death of her father, she actually felt relaxed. In fact, she was so relaxed that she almost asked Harriot if he would make a habit of reading to her before bed. If it didn't seem like such a childish want, she would have indulged herself. The last thing she wanted was for Thomas Harriot to think of her as childish.

  Before she knew it, her feelings for him had returned.

  And she hated herself for it.

  Tom was halfway through chapter two before he heard the sound of Isabella's heavy breathing. He closed the book, set it aside, and tiptoed to her bed. Upon confirming her slumber, he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

  She was right to feel safe with him.

  He would have fought the world for her.

  Twenty

  “I know money's been a little bit tight, Nico, but we won't have to worry about that anymore,” Mae told him as she leapt into the bed beside him. “I got a job.”

  “A job?” Nico sat up. “Where?”

  “I'm working at a pub called Murphy's. It's owned by a man named Wallace Murphy. He has the meanest face I've ever seen, but believe it or not, he's actually a really nice guy. When I met him, he liked me so much that he asked me to start working today!” Mae's smile stretched across her entire face. After three nights in the inn, they were starting to count their pennies. Her new job was not only necessary, it was going to save them. “He's even agreed to pay me in advance.”

  “That's... really great, Mae.” Nico's reply was followed by a heavy sigh that betrayed his mixed feelings.

  “What's wrong?” Mae's smile transformed into a pout. “You sound sad.”

  “I am. A bit. I mean, I'm happy for you, but at the same time...” He reached for her hand. “If you're not going to be around all day, I'm going to miss you. And I know I can't leave the room because--”

  “It's dangerous,” Mae finished his sentence. “If anyone recognized you, that would be tragic. So when I do leave, you better stay hidden.”