Her Majesty My Love - eBook - Final

  ALSO BY MAYA BANKS

  Seducing Simon

  Brazen

  For Her Pleasure

  Stay With Me

  Reckless

  Love Me, Still

  Into the Mist

  Into the Lair

  Golden Eyes

  Amber Eyes

  Be With Me

  Songbird

  The Billionaire’s Contract Engagement

  Pillow Talk (Fourplay Duology)

  Soul Possession (Men out of Uniform Anthology)

  Long Road Home

  Exiled (Cherished Duology)

  COLTERS’ LEGACY SERIES

  Colters’ Woman

  Colters’ Wife (free short story epilogue to Colters’ Woman)

  Callie’s Meadow

  Colters’ Lady

  Colters’ Daughter

  Colters’ Promise

  Colters’ Gift

  ANETAKIS TRILOGY

  The Mistress

  The Bride

  The Affair

  THE BREATHLESS TRILOGY

  RUSH

  FEVER

  BURN

  PASSION AND PREGNANCY SERIES

  Enticed

  Wanted

  Tempted

  Undone

  SWEET SERIES

  Sweet Surrender

  Sweet Persuasion

  Sweet Seduction

  Sweet Temptation

  Sweet Possession

  Sweet Addiction

  KGI Series

  The Darkest Hour

  No Place to Run

  Hidden Away

  Whispers in the Dark

  Echoes at Dawn

  Softly at Sunrise (novella available digitally or in print in the back of Shades of Gray)

  Shades of Gray

  Forged in Steele

  After the Storm

  When Day Breaks

  Darkest Before Dawn

  Brighter than the Sun

  SCOTTISH HISTORICALS

  In Bed with a Highlander (McCabe trilogy)

  Seduction of a Highland Lass (McCabe trilogy)

  Never Love a Highlander (McCabe trilogy)

  Never Seduce a Scot (Montgomerys & Armstrongs)

  Highlander Most Wanted (Montgomerys & Armstrongs)

  Highland Ever After (Montgomerys & Armstrongs) Coming Soon

  THE TANGLED HEARTS TRILOGY

  Theirs to Keep

  Always Mine (TBA)

  Forever Ours (TBA)

  THE SURRENDER TRILOGY

  Letting Go

  Giving In

  Taking it All

  THE UNBROKEN TRILOGY

  Understood

  Overheard

  Undenied

  THE SLOW BURN SERIES

  Keep Me Safe

  In His Keeping

  Safe at Last

  With Every Breath

  Just One Touch

  THE ENFORCERS

  Mastered

  Dominated

  Kept

  THE VAULT COLLECTION

  Her Majesty, My Love

  Beyond the Night

  Duchess of My Heart

  Until Midnight

  For more information on Maya and her books, go to her website, connect with her on Facebook or follow her on twitter!

  http://www.mayabanks.com

  http://www.facebook.com/authormayabanks

  http://twitter.com/maya_banks

  Her Majesty, my love

  Maya Banks

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Her Majesty, My Love

  Copyright © 2007 Maya Banks

  ISBN: 978-1-946461-27-8

  Cover by Designs By Dana

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Published by Maya Banks

  A princess on the run must complete a mystical quest in order to take her rightful place on her country’s throne.

  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 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.

  DEDICATION

  To Sassy. We miss you. Hope you’re giving them hell and smoking a cigarette.

  To Amy and Karin for hanging in with me this long. It’s been awhile with this story, and you guys never let me lose faith in it.

  To T.J. for reading the story and being honest in your feedback. For always having faith in me and my writing. It feels good to finally get here.

  To Jess, just because I lurve you.

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Prologue

  Harwich, England

  January 1815

  It was a damned miserable day to die.

  Simon Rothmore, Earl of Merrick, tugged his heavy overcoat closer around him to ward off the pervasive chill wrought by the drizzling rains. He cast a glance down at the soggy corpse that lay encased in mud and ice.

  Prince Davide Chastaine, youngest son of the King of Leaudor, had barely stepped off his ship before he’d met with his demise. The bastards had been waiting for him.

  Simon bent down to gain a closer look. From all appearances, the prince had been dead for several hours. His death had been quick and merciful, if you could call it such. A gaping gash in his neck bespoke of a large knife, and dried blood matted the top of his head, no doub
t from a felling blow.

  He rose and backed away, turning to his partner, Adam Kirkland. “We were too late.” It was a needless statement, but it expressed all the frustration he felt at his failure. He and Kirk had overseen the effort to track down and protect the two remaining members of the Leaudorian royal family after the others had been assassinated. Now there was only one.

  Kirk nodded, his breath escaping in a visible puff. “Why was the prince coming here? It makes no sense, unless…” His voice trailed off, and he stared intently at Simon.

  “Unless the princess is here,” Simon finished.

  “All intelligence pointed to her being in America.”

  Simon sucked in the icy air and turned away from the macabre sight of the prince. It began to rain harder, and he gestured for the two men who stood to the side to attend the body. He would ensure it would be returned to Leaudor for a proper burial.

  As he and Kirk hurried through the downpour, he mulled over this latest development. The two settled into the warm confines of Simon’s closed carriage to begin the trip back to London. He turned to study Kirk’s pensive expression, sure that his own was a mirror image. “What if she is here? What if she only intended for it to appear she fled to America? Why else would the prince come out of hiding and take a ship to England?”

  “I don’t know, but it certainly presents us a dilemma. The agents dispatched to America could well be looking in the wrong place.”

  Simon leaned back, the beginnings of a headache plaguing him. “If I am right, we must find her before the others do. The Regent is most concerned that we discover the motive behind the slayings. And if there are implications for England.”

  He rubbed his temples, attempting to ease the tightness. “Damn, but seeing all the killing never becomes easier. I had hoped with Napoleon safely imprisoned at Elba that we might enjoy quieter times.”

  “Perhaps you should give thought to retiring and taking up the duties of earl,” Kirk said quietly. “We’ve been at this life for so long it seems. No one could blame you for seeing to the continuation of your line.”

  Simon grimaced. See to a life he was never intended to lead. It was no more appealing now than it had been on the heels of his brother’s death.

  He continued on as if Kirk had not mentioned his responsibility as the Earl of Merrick. “Our treaty with France is too important to allow any disruption to threaten it. We would be foolish to ignore the events in Leaudor given their strong ties to the French.”

  “But with only one remaining member of the royal family, how likely are we to find her before whoever wants her dead?” Kirk asked, running an agitated hand through his hair.

  Simon glanced at the man who was as much a brother as a partner. Certainly more of a brother than his own flesh and blood had been. Kirk looked as tired as Simon felt. The two had spent many long hours—days—searching for the Prince and Princess of Leaudor.

  “We have no guarantee, but we must be diligent in our efforts. The princess may well hold the fate of more than just Leaudor in her hands.”

  Kirk nodded his agreement then put a hand down on the seat to brace himself as they passed over a particularly rough spot on the road.

  Simon leaned back and gave voice to the issue most troubling to him. “I do not like that the prince was killed on English soil. England could easily be blamed by Leaudor, and France could capitalize on the opportunity to try and sway Leaudor to their side. While small, Leaudor has a powerful and well-maintained army. Alone, they pose no threat to England. But paired with a country like France, they would become a powerful enemy.”

  “So you think France could well be behind the whole thing,” Kirk said grimly. “It’s a brilliant strategy with the talk of an agreement between France and England at the Congress of Vienna. No one would suspect them of sabotaging their own alliance.”

  “I’m not sure what to think,” Simon mused. “I do know that King Fernando was determined for Leaudor to remain neutral in any conflict between France and England. Though much of their heritage is French, they trade much with England. With Fernando removed from power and his family annihilated, the next ruler might be more accepting of an alliance with France.”

  “More reason to find the princess with all haste,” Kirk muttered.

  “Indeed. It would be in our best interest to find her and see the throne restored to the Chastaines. At all costs.”

  Chapter One

  London, England

  February 1815

  It was a good day to die.

  But perhaps she was already dead, her body merely refusing to acknowledge what her heart knew.

  Princess Isabella Genevieve Elizabeth Chastaine walked across the Westminster Bridge, agony infusing each of her steps. She was to have met Davide here when he arrived in England. It was the only landmark they could think of in the short time before they parted ways in Leaudor.

  Cold wind blew over her, raising goose pimples down her spine. She wished she had gloves and a coat, anything to keep her warm. Her flight to England had not allowed for anything beyond the clothes on her back, and they were much too fine for her to blend into obscurity. She had traded them for food, a dress and a set of boys clothing. But her meager food supplies had run out. And now, so had her time.

  The clatter of carriages crossing back and forth over the bridge beat a steady rhythm. She stared at them with unseeing eyes. In the distance, smoke billowed from the countless factories. How she hated this place. The crowded city, the offensive smells, the heavy cape of gloom that seemed to drape the rooftops. Though today marked a surprising reprieve from such conditions.

  She gazed upwards. For once the London sky wasn’t dark with the shadow of clouds. The brilliant blue hinted at more spring-like conditions, and she squinted against the bright sunlight. She marveled at how the day could be so outwardly beautiful and peaceful when her world had come to an end. Surely the normal gray canvas was more appropriate.

  How she longed for the raw beauty of her homeland. The rolling green hills sloped gently to the base of the rugged mountain ridge that spanned the entire northern front of Leaudor. To the west, the Marble Cliffs stood a proud monument to the strength of her country. If only she were as strong.

  She shuffled forward until she reached the center of the bridge. The discomfort of the cold hardly matched the raw pain that clawed at her throat, enticing her to scream. But she stared stoically out over the Thames and drew on her rapidly depleting reserves to squelch the cry that swelled in her throat. How easy it would be to slip over the side and drop painlessly into the water below. Would she even feel the hand of death wrapping around her?

  She shook her head, berating herself for entertaining the thought. This was no time to get mired down in self-pity. Her people needed her. She had a duty to uphold, a legacy to protect, and most importantly, she had revenge to seek.

  A hot tear slipped down her cold cheek. Davide. Good, kind Davide was dead. The only person she had left in the world and he was gone. When she had read the news in a London newspaper, she hadn’t wanted to believe it.

  Her fingers curled tightly around the icy stone of the ledge, the roughness abrasive to her bare hand. Her thin dress offered little in the way of protection from the biting cold, but she felt little beyond the grief clouding her mind and her soul.

  She’d lost everything that mattered, and she’d never felt more alone than at this moment. A fresh wave of despair hit her so hard, her knees buckled, and she leaned against the bridge for support. Her tears splashed onto the stone below, and she watched as they slipped from view perhaps to mingle with the dark waters of the Thames.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two men approaching. Slowly, she leaned forward then turned her head ever so slightly to take in the source of her attention. They stared at her, their rough appearance striking fear within her. She blinked rapidly to dispel the tears. Her vision clearer now, she chanced another look. She didn’t believe in coi
ncidences, and this was not the first time she had seen these two.

  They moved purposefully toward her, making no attempt at subtlety. A few short months ago, such action would have caused her no alarm, but attempted assassination had a way of making her wary. Of everyone and everything. Anger quickly overrode her choking grief even as fear pricked her consciousness.

  They weren’t overly large, and she was confident she could manage escape, but she never liked it when she was outnumbered. And lately the odds had been anything but even.

  She quickly weighed her options. She could stay and confront the two men. She could run, though she wouldn’t likely get far in her current mode of dress. Or she could jump over the side of the bridge and take her chances in the Thames.

  Her nose wrinkled in distaste. The way she saw it, none of the options afforded much comfort. Her hands grasped the ledge of the bridge once more. She would just have to pray Father Ling’s tutelage in the fighting arts didn’t let her down now.

  A warm hand closed over hers. “I wouldn’t advise doing that if I were you. The waters are quite frigid this time of year.”

  She spun around ready to do battle. How had this man gotten so close without her notice? “What are you about, sir?” she asked, attempting to inflect enough righteous indignation in her voice to dissuade him. But she feared it came out more as a terrified croak.

  “My apologies for startling you, madam. I merely sought to prevent a most unpleasant incident.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she quickly took stock of this new, startling situation. “And what incident would that be?” She glanced sideways to see where the two ruffians were and was satisfied to see their progress halted for the moment.

  Turning her attention back to the man in front of her, she caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she decided if he meant her harm.

  “You will pardon my presumption, but it appeared as though you may have been contemplating leaping over the side.” His deep voice rumbled over her and held a slight tone of concern.

  She relaxed ever so slightly and stared balefully at him. “Your gallantry is appreciated, sir, but I had no such intention.” A tiny twinge of guilt bit her as she remembered briefly contemplating just that.