Seated by his side on the couch, Anne brushed her cheek against his velvet coat. The glow of the candles kissed the powerful lines of his face and outlined his hair’s gold streaks. Her hands tingled to remove the string tying the strands and sift her fingers through it.
The handsomest man alive.
How she loved him. Her husband had orchestrated this evening with such care. The desire to give her the perfect Christmas was clear. This was the kind of memory she could keep forever and perhaps one day tell their children.
Children.
Did all this mean he was ready to talk about her wishes? Or was it a way to distract her from them?
The last notes of the quartet’s piece hung in the air. While the other couples clapped, Anne rose and, padding fast to the piano, seized Pedro’s guitar. Music allowed both to share feelings and emotions that weren’t yet ready to be spoken. She felt the guests’ attention on her as she stood between Pedro’s legs, offering him the instrument. The kaleidoscope of his eyes changed, turning inwards, away from her. A fleeting shadow crossed his face.
He shook his head. The gentle rebuke pierced her in the chest. Her heart sank, and her nose burned with suppressed tears. The guitar felt unbearably heavy in her hands.
Before she could lower the instrument, the Marquis of Faial stepped forward, offering to accompany her. Anne gasped, her gaze shifting from the handsome marquis to her husband. Unwilling to be discourteous, she nodded, trying to mask her surprise.
As the marquis struck the first notes of amodinha, Anne concentrated on accompanying him, but her focus kept drifting to Pedro. Every note she sang, every chord Diomedes played, made Pedro’s expression more glacial. A shiver coursed down her spine as the room grew dimmer, the shadows lengthening and deepening around her husband.
Chapter 5
Cursethatmemory.Pedro’sfather had never shed tears. Had to be an illusion. No matter. The Duke of Titano had no right to take his mind hostage and force him to watch Anne singing with another man.
Diomedes played with fire. If he thought he could flirt with his wife and walk unscathed... It mattered not if Faial did it because of a genuine interest or to provoke him. Neither possibility could be left unaddressed.
Hardening himself for the meeting to come, Pedro descended the stairs, his boots echoing over the dark gallery. Light spilled from his study, mingling with the scent of tobacco. It was still early. Pedro had set up the meeting with Faial at midnight. With a hand holding his pistol, he entered the room.
Henrique lounged in the chair, his feet propped against the windowsill, nursing one of Pedro’s Cuban cigars. Maxwell sat opposite, dozing. Moonlight invaded the study, casting elongated shadows over the oak floor and bookshelves. In the night light, the Misarela was just a distorted piece of stone.
Pedro closed the door forcefully.
Henrique glared at him. “Do you mind? I need to think.”
Maxwell grumbled something and took a sip of his port.
“Go think elsewhere. I have a meeting that starts in fifteen minutes.” Pedro pulled the fob off his watch and twisted the chain.
Henrique nursed his cigar. “Since when have you carried a fob? Never knew you needed a watch. Your uncanny ability to tell the hour never failed to scare me.”
“The chain has its uses.” Pedro twirled it one more time and stored it in his pocket. “I thought you had quit smoking.”
“God Damn Pedro — Never mind. Don’t tell my wife. She would have my balls.”
“You look like shit. Problems in Paradise?” Exhaling, Pedro straddled a chair. “I won’t judge you. Women tend to wish for more than a man can give.”
Henrique lifted his brows. “That’s hard to believe. You are richer than the king.”
Pedro frowned. “Some things money can’t buy.”
“You shouldn’t give in to her wishes. See Isabel. She wanted a child so much, and now she is a pile of nerves.” Henrique said.
“You bragged the pregnancy was your idea.”
“Well, she must have maneuvered me into it. Never fear. Nowadays, whenever she starts to talk, I kiss her senseless. Keeps her distracted, and with her mouth occupied, she cannot manipulate me into doing things I had no intention of doing.” He rubbed his neck, and for a second, panic, plain and raw, replaced his friend’s carefree facade. There and then gone, the worry masked by a grin. “You should try it.”
Maxwell glared at Henrique. “Having no propriety is one thing, but a complete disregard for male ethics is another entirely. Only a blackguard discusses a gentleman’s sister in front of him.”
Pedro shook his head. Couldn’t Maxwell see how afraid Henrique was of Isabel’s condition? At least Pedro would never go through this with Anne.
Henrique pressed the cigar against the ashtray. “Oh, so now we are being hypocritical? Must I remind you how you seduced Julia? On my property, no less?”
