"It's called dressage." Pedro adjusted his reins and did a subtle movement with his knees. Erebus, the beast who had nearly killed her, waltzed like a ballet dancer. Pedro’s smug smile made her breath catch.
She hid her reaction behind a cough. "I didn't know you were vain."
"I don't hide my sins. Now, if you wish for a lesson, you’d better be a better rider than you are a philosopher." He smiled, lifting a golden brow.
He would teach her about Lusitanos, despite his mulish denial. Anne smiled and corrected her posture, sitting high in her saddle. While she had been taught English horsemanship, she could learn the techniques the Portuguese used with their precious Lusitanos just as well.
Pedro pointed at her legs. "Keep a firm grip on your reins, and press Hemera's flank—" He halted, and the smugness washed from his face. Frowning, he stared at the ridge behind them. "We’ve been followed."
The earth vibrated in the wake of Pedro's ominous words as hooves pondered the turf. To their right, voices. A war cry. Anne's heart lunged to a frantic rhythm. Not again.
Cris galloped to their side. Hemera pranced, advancing over Erebus. Anne couldn't control the mare. The animal probably sensed danger. She searched the glade, but the pasture offered no hiding places. Just an ocean of grass. God, they were vulnerable like partridges.
"Soldiers. They must have discovered our ruse. Proceed to the yacht." Pedro yanked his reins, and Erebus stomped the ground, neighing.
Cris shook his head, reaching for his gun. "You can't face them alone—"
"If I don't arrive in two hours, sail without me."
"Brother, please, I couldn’t—"
Pedro's gaze lingered on her face. "Take care of her."
A scream locked in her throat. He would risk his own safety for her?
Cris, eyes wild, face flushed, froze in place, but then with a roar, he grabbed her reins, and before Anne could ask Pedro to be careful, they were lurching down the slope. Anne looked over her shoulder but couldn't discern Pedro's expression. They were too far. Erebus reared, hooves punching the air, and horse and rider took off in the opposite direction. She kept her eyes on him until Hemera stumbled, and Anne bounced in the saddle, jarring her teeth.
She faced forward as the countryside blurred by their side. Her thighs were screaming when they reached a silent path lined by cypress trees. Cris released her reins and allowed the horses to catch their breaths. Panting, Anne scented the humid, ripe air. She chanced a look back, but while the threat had not followed them, so hadn't Pedro. Had they gotten him?
Please let him be all right.
Towering sails peeked from the umbrella pines. A white mist blanketed the Douro as they passed rows of boats moored along a planked walkway. Cris guided them to an inlet in the river, revealing a secluded grove.
"The berth is here." Cris reined in and helped her dismount.
High above the stream floated the largest boat on the harbor, the size of a mansion. The hull gleamed in natural oak and navy blue, and the three masts poked the clouds.
Anne caressed Hemera's nuzzle before giving her to a liveried servant. Brushing her arms, she squinted her eyes at the ship. The sun glinted off the silvery letters of the yacht's name.Dawn Chaser.What did it mean to Pedro? An ache spread inside her chest, and she clutched her locket. She might never find out.
Tired to her bones, she dragged her feet closer to Cris. He spoke to a white-haired man that appeared to be the captain. The stocky man bowed and left. Cris’s gaze had yet to leave the harbor's entrance.
She patted his shoulder. "He will prevail against this threat. He rescued me from a quinta filled with assassins."
Cris’s eyes were brimming with emotion, and he kicked a pebble into the river. "He is not the easiest person to be around, I'll tell you, but—"
"Don't despair. Then I will cry, and if I do, James will, and then where will we all be?" Her chin trembled, her voice breaking.
"He is my only family."
"And your mother?"
"Never met her."
A flock of shallows flew over their heads, searching for the safety of the willows on the other riverbank. Anne shouldn't pry, as the subject of his birth must be painful, but sometimes speaking about the pain helped. Before Griffin had met Julia, he’d bottled his feelings so tight inside himself that it had left him with a perpetual frown.
"You grew up with your father, then?"
He scoffed. "The duke? He didn’t acknowledge me. God knows I've groveled enough. The first time, I was ten. The Franciscan monk from the orphanage brought me to his house. Titano sent me away with a gold coin and a warning to make myself scarce."
