Careful not to stray too far from the men, she took him to relieve himself, and when she returned, they were setting up a canvas tent. "Can I help?"
"You've done well," the count said. "Sit by the fire. Tomorrow you will rest in your own cabin."
Thanking his thoughtfulness, she plopped down with James on her lap. A comfortable position proved elusive, her buttocks and thighs protesting the hard ground. The brothers worked with quiet efficiency, the sort of expertize that hinted at previous practice. How many nights had they passed like this, surrounded by trees, out in the elements? And why would a wealthy, sophisticated aristocrat need to spend the night outdoors?
Anne leaned against the cork oak, caressing James’s ears. Her pug snuggled closer to her tummy, snoring. A breeze ruffled through the tall foliage, mixing the rising smoke of the campfire with the fresh scent of pines. The summer night was balmy, but she welcomed the fire crackling close to her feet, the heat easing the soreness of her legs. At least she was too tired to think of how she had ended up sharing the fire's warmth with two strangers. But unlike the count, his brother befriended anything around him—the trees, James, eventhe hard schist soil—and he made her feel at ease.
Cris passed her a chunk of bread and ham. "You lived all your life in Portugal, and you've never been to the capital?"
Anne's smile wobbled, and she shrugged. "I was going to spend the season in Lisbon, but then, well, plans change... After reading many tourist guides and history books, I feel I'm a connoisseur."
Cris clasped his arms above his head. "It's not the same. You must cross the arches of the Praça do Comércio and eat sardines on Alfama's open grills."
Anne admired the flames sending sparkles into the quiet night. "I long to see the dawn from Saint George's Castle." She read that when the sun emerged from the Tagus River, it colored Lisbon's houses in all shades from white to deep red.
"Too tame. I'll take you to the Fado taverns. The best in the country."
Would she visit Lisbon at last? The count said as soon as he garnered evidence of his innocence, he would take it to Portugal's capital, straight to the king. Perhaps something good would come from this adventure.
Right now, she would settle for a bath and a soft mattress.
While Cris gushed about Fado singers, her gaze kept straying to the count. He had yet to speak, peeling an orange with precise cuts of his knife. Though he sat to the left of them, removed from the campfire's circle, long shadows emanated from his shoulders, touching her hip. Why did he isolate himself? Was it because of his social status? Or was he affected by the accusation? If she were more outspoken, she would ask. But even Cris left him to his musings.
The glow loved him, though, and had no qualms about touching him. While rolling a schist pebble between her fingertips, she imagined his skin to be firm and thick beside his straight nose but bristly over his chin. Covered in black leather, his hands were a mystery yet to be revealed, but she could bet his palms would be abrasive from wielding the sword. She couldn’t guess the texture of his hair. Would it be fine and cool, like hers, or dry and thick like Tony's? She was staring at the golden strands when he turned to her. His eyes, luminous and alert, made her drop the pebble.
Cris rose and stretched his back. "I'll take first watch."
She peeked at the ominous trees surrounding them. "Cris?"
"Yes, sweet?"
"Please be careful."
He took his mean-looking gun and winked. "Always." With a last parting smile for her and a nod to the count, he swaggered away.
Anne followed his broad back until he disappeared into the shadows. She returned a sleeping James to his basket and hugged herself. Without the talkative brother, the camp became too silent.
"You spent the season hiding in the Douro?"
Anne lifted her shoulders. "I wouldn't say hiding, but my mother went to stay with friends in Bath, and Griffin moved to Vesuvio, and I didn't want to impose—"
"You sacrificed a year of husband-hunting so you would not bother anyone? How convenient. For them."
"My family wants the best for me," she said defensively and instantly regretted the tone of her voice. Why did she feel the need to justify their actions?
"That's not how the world works. If you don't pursue your desires, others will take them from you, or in your case, simply trample your wishes in favor of their own."
If everyone thought like him, where would the world be? Anne raised her brows. "Isn't this notion quite selfish?"
"Human nature is selfish. From our ancestors' fight for food to our industrialist society... it compels us to compete, get ahead of others."
Anne smiled mischievously. "Some may wish toget alongwith others, Your Excellency."
He lifted his eyes from the orange, and it may have been the light playing tricks on her, but his lips twitched. "Heaven hath no wit as an angel rebuked. She has a tongue, it seems. Call me Pedro."
"Oh, I couldn't."
His expression closed, and he cut the naked fruit in two. "You called my brother by his nickname."
