"Does your wound hurt?"
"I've had worse."
She frowned. "In battle?"
"And other places."
"Would you tell me?"
"I won't taint you with my shadows."
She lowered her eyes, the gilded tips of her eyelashes brushing her cheeks. "I don't like that you had to live in shadows."
Pedro lived there still.
"You chased them away today, Ana." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Go. The crew will rise, and the maid will notice your absence."
She sat on the bed's edge. "I forgot to thank you."
Pedro adjusted his pillow and shifted to his back. "The clothes were beneath you in quality and style—"
She whirled and came on her hands and knees to him. Pedro curbed the instinct to push her away, his pulse throbbing inside his veins. She stopped so close she could have pierced his heart with a dagger or slit his throat. In all his adult life, no one had touched him without his express demand, and here he was, frozen while strands of her hair tickled his chest, and her breath fanned his face, stealing his air.
Slowly, she leaned forward and branded his skin with her lips above the corner of his mouth—a kiss. All paused except for the ringing in his ears. Pedro covered the skin she had kissed, the calloused pads of his fingertips a poor substitute for the glow and dew of her lips.
"Thank you for saving my life. The clothes were incredibly thoughtful, but you risked your own safety for me." She flushed from her collarbone to the tips of her ears. "I will never forget."
As the girl with Atlantic eyes and cheeks flaming like port wine scurried from the bed, something moved inside him. A crumbling of sorts, uncomfortable, and then a crack, not unlike a glacier breaking in the sea. He placed both palms above his chest, wanting to prevent it. Still, it continued, opening space with hammer-like delicacy.
"I'll be leaving now, but I'll find Beatriz and ask for your breakfast. You must be hungry because you didn't eat your dinner, and if you are to recover, then eating is necessary. I'm mumbling, aren't I? I'll leave you to your rest. Good night." She curtsied. "I mean, good day."
She stumbled on the rug, and then she was gone.
Chapter 18
Lightfloodedtheyacht'sspacious drawing room. To the left, the wall was all glass. To the right, a well-appointed sitting area was situated around a plush emerald carpet. Anne caressed the cushions, noticing no creases as if no one had ever laid down with a book or embroidery. Mahogany paneling with niches for pieces of art covered the inner wall. Pedro's taste was eclectic, ranging from the modern to the classical.
A warrior, an aristocrat, an art collector... What other secrets lay in his past? At least she had uncovered one. She knew why he called the yachtDawn Chaser. He didn't like nights.
But not last night. Last night, she had chased his shadows.
Warmth infused her body, goosebumps rising on her arms. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel his large hand covering hers. Would it be too immodest if she took him a food tray instead of Beatriz? He must be made to eat. Or she could offer to read him from the library. What would he like? Philosophy? Some history...
"Your breakfast is served, Miss Anne."
"Thanks, Beatriz."
The dinner table caught the morning sun from the uncovered veranda. Why did the brothers have their meals inside their cabins instead of here? Anne stretched her arms above her head, her gaze taking in the ocean tinted by the green of the Portuguese coast. The smells of coffee, tea, and baked buns made her stomach rumble, and, hard-pressed to choose, she bit into apão de deus. The sweet roll with marmalade melted in her mouth.
"No seasickness?" Cris’s voice came from the deck. "Some people have all the luck."
Startled, Anne perched on her seat. "Are you unwell?"
"My stubborn sea legs take longer to sprout, that's all." Skin sallow and lips tinged with white, he splayed his hands on the linen-clad table.
"Won't you sit? I'll pour you some tea." Anne reached for the samovar. "Beatriz prepared this colossal breakfast. I cannot hope to gobble it alone."
He pulled the chair across from her and dropped his bulky frame onto it. "So, you enjoy the Portuguesepequeno almoço? No fry-up for our English guest?"
