Pedro strode out of the lookout. If he saddled another horse, he could corner them, hopefully before Erebus could do irreversible damage.
He descended the stairs, his boots clattering over the stone steps.
At the landing, sitting like a statue with her eyes closed and her head resting against the wall, was Anne. She knew about her mare already.
Pedro controlled his breathing so as not to alarm her. “I will go after them. If Erebus hurts her, I will buy you another horse.”
“Erebus won’t hurt Hemera. He values her. She is his chosen mate.” Anne wouldn’t look at him.
He clenched his jaw, his gaze straying to the window. “He might have harmed her already. He is a war horse, a brute.”
“No. Hemera is safe with him.”
Pedro narrowed his eyes. “How can you be so certain?”
“Because I let him loose.” Her voice was low, almost a whisper.
A rush of heat surged through Pedro, a tight knot forming in his stomach. “You disobeyed my orders.”
Anne’s fingers unfurled, revealing the crumpled envelope and his father’s ducal seal. “Your father died. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Pedro’s temper flared, his voice rising. “First, you try to seduce me, and now you read my private correspondence?”
The intensity of his anger caught her off guard, making her flinch.
“I was looking for you. And then I saw the letter. Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice came out soft yet hurt.
With a swift motion, Pedro removed the paper from her hand, his eyes never leaving hers. “I chose not to relate the news because it wasn’t relevant—”
Anne gasped. “Not relevant? I barely recognized you these past few days. You are tense, unstable—”
“I don’t care if he is dead. He’s been dead to me for a long time.”
She reached out, touching his arm, her eyes brimming with tears. “That’s not true. You are grieving. The feelings you have for your father are not black or white, please—”
He shook his head, pulling away from her touch. Memories of his tumultuous past climbed out of their holes, threatening his sanity. His father was an evil man. Both her parents had loved her. What did she know of his wretched childhood with the duke? “You are too good to understand—”
She stepped forward, desperation clear in her voice, “Stop. I’m tired of being the angel on the pedestal. I want to share everything with you. I want to be your partner.”
He shook his head and went to the bookshelves. His shoulders were rigid, and his breathing shallow. She wanted a peek inside his mind? The menagerie of fractured pieces? She would judge her sanity by choosing him as her husband. No, he built this, them. The glass dome he’d constructed around their meadow shimmered in his mind’s eye. Every word Anne spoke, every plea she made, she banged on its surface.
Her expression was pleading. If he let her in, perhaps — what if the dome could evolve?
She placed her palm over his arm, her touch warm enough to sear his skin. “Pedro, please. Tell me about your father. About your feelings. This is hurting you. I know it is.” Her voice wavered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
A yearning to drown in her eyes, to let her in, to confide in her of the memories so she could make sense of it, took him by surprise.
“Is that why you are afraid to be a father?”
A wave of panic surged through him, and his heart raced. His father had been an evil man. Pedro pushed away from her, his voice rising. “I’m the Duke of Titano now. Is that what you wanted to hear? Do you know what the Titans did to their progeny? They ate them. Is that what you wish for your children?”
Anne's lips parted, her face pale, her eyes wide and shocked.
There, she finally knew the truth. Pedro stared at her, his heart pounding against his ears.
Anne lifted her chin. “I won’t back away, Pedro. I can’t live atop the pedestal. I want more.”
Pedro’s throat tightened, and a cold sweat formed on his brow. “I give you everything. All that I can give.” His voice broke, his eyes searching hers. Why did she want this now? If he allowed her to break the dome, she would never look at him the same way. Yet, if he reinforced the walls, he might lose her.
