Maxwell stared at his wife incredulously. "Pedro Daun hates me. He would delight in exacting his revenge." The baron whirled, a fierce scowl on his face. "I'm going after him."
Gabriel had an inkling where Pedro had taken refuge, but he would keep his silence. The last thing he needed was civilians interfering with the investigation. "Why? Why does he hate you so?"
The couple shared a tense look, and Mrs. Maxwell raised her brows.
Mr. Maxwell lifted his palm as if to stop her words. "The count is manipulative and a scoundrel, and he has meddled enough in our lives. Last summer, he attempted to marry Julia by force."
Gabriel startled. Julia had been the woman Pedro was obsessed with when they went to Mozambique? The one he fought so hard to forget? Could this be why Pedro had taken the girl? To settle a vendetta with the baron?
"I vow to you I will bring her back."
Chapter 10
ImagesflickeredbehindAnne'seyelids. Her mother knitting close to the fire, smiling at her antics, only to cry when she thought Anne wasn't looking. Griffin listening to her play the piano, his face hidden behind the Times. Then it all blurred, and she shivered alone in the cabin, the ship gray and chilly, tilting, rocking.
Anne fought to open her eyes, but a dark force shut her eyelids. The storm roared outside, threatening to swallow the boat. The shadows changed and now surrounded her, jerking her from the floor and snatching her hair.
Anne opened her eyes with a gasp. The nightmare released her, but her heartbeats raged as if she still wrestled with its grip. Blinking, she took her bearings. Dark velvet enclosed her in shadows. The strange bed had pearly sheets. A bright spot of light came from between the heavy curtains, piercing her vision. When she lifted her head, she woke a beast living inside her brain.
"Finally."
That voice. The smoky sound pulled a thread from Anne's memory, but trying to unravel it increased the pain. A brilliant glass-stained window. The walls, distant but clothed in burgundy silk. A massive painting. She squinted her eyes—two horses. One was ebony, the other white as light.
She turned to the left as black breeches came near. Panting, she raised her head and winced at the pain. "What happened?"
"You have been sleeping for several hours. Twenty-one, to be precise." The mattress dipped. "Here."
James padded closer, licking her face, and she cradled his small body, the relief of his presence making her dizzy.
The man came into focus, blond hair tied at the nape, golden skin, smooth. No imperfections chipped his face, no curves, all straight lines.
The memory of his kiss colored her cheeks, and Anne pulled the covers to her chin. "You stayed here?"
He lifted his palms. "I mean you no harm. I'm a bachelor, and females only visit my household to... entertain me."
Did he think her a woman of loose morals? Oh, the shame. Anne shut her eyes. "I'm not... that. I'm sorry if I gave—"
"I'm Pedro Daun, Count of Almoster." He bowed briefly. "I will send the housekeeper with food and allow you to rest." He turned to the door.
He would leave her here, alone?
"I must explain. I had a reason to visit. A perfectly innocent one. Why, my name is Anne—"
He halted and tilted his head to the side. His stare was unsettling.
Anne’s skin tingled uncomfortably, and the explanation at the tip of her tongue eluded her. When he was leaving, she wanted him to stay. Now that she had his full attention, she wanted him to leave.
"It suits you. Ana."
Ana. The two long A’s in his husky voice rolled on forever. Her name was far from unique, but on his aristocrat's lips, it bloomed, grand and secretive, the name of a medieval queen.
He waved his hand imperiously. "I don’t doubt your innocence. And I expect to hear a full account of why a respectable lady landed in my ballroom—after I return."
The Count had said twenty-one hours, almost a full day.
Julia must be frantic. Please let Griffin be home.
Anne gazed at the door. "I'm well enough. I prefer to go back to my family."
