"I'll tell you his legend, then. Gyges was a shepherd in Ancient Greece. After an earthquake, he found a dead giant wearing a gold ring. Gyges placed it on his finger. To his surprise, it made him invisible. Care to guess what he did with such power?"
She shook her head, and the long rope of her hair came to rest over her shoulder.
"He invaded the king's palace, slept with his wife, plotted with her to kill the monarch, and seized control of the kingdom."
She listened avidly. "And then?"
"There's no then. This is the story. No fairy tale ending. Anyone possessing the means without the risk of being caught will forget moral restrictions."
"Certainly not."
"Are you so sure, Ana?" He kept his tone low. "What would you do if you had the ring?"
She tilted her head sideways, then her face colored, and she quickly glanced away.
"There." Pedro leaned forward. "What have you just imagined?"
She furiously traced the etches of his desk, avoiding his eyes. "Nothing."
"You are a terrible liar. What was it?"
She covered her cheeks with her palms. "I can't tell. Please don't ask me."
What was her sin of choice? Jewelry, silks... voyeurism? What if she wanted another man? Was Gabriel her dream suitor? The one she had mentioned more than once? His gut tightened. He needed to know.
Pedro pushed the dice in her direction. "We could play again. If you lose, you confess your desire. If you win..."
She squirmed in her chair, no doubt preparing to balk. Unless Pedro offered the right incentive.
"I'll take you to see the view from Saint George's castle. It's enough compensation, don't you think? Plus, have you not won four times? You are on a winning streak." Pedro toyed with the dice, rolling them over his fingers.
Her gaze flitted over his face. Pedro kept his expression schooled.
"I'll play." Hands trembling, she picked up the dice. "My main will be seven."
She threw the cubes. A six. Clumsily, she collected and rolled them again. Nine. She stared at the numbers as if pleading for them to do her will. "Why do you think the game is called hazard?" she whispered.
"Portuguese have words for bad and good luck. Do you know them?"
"Sortefor good.Azarfor bad. That's where hazard came from?"
"Some say it is." He pointed at her hands. "Cast the dice again. I want to see who's sittingonyour shoulder today, brightsorteor murkyazar."
She brought the dice to her lips, her eyes closed. After a hopeful brush, she let go.
Pedro tensed. If she managed a nine, he wouldn’t know her wishes.
Three dots in the first. The second clattered twice before stopping—a four.
Her shoulders slumped, and she groaned.
"I win." Pedro covered the dice with his black-gloved hands. "Now you tell me."
Face flushed, she left the sleeping dog on the chair and, in a whirl of flowery cotton, hastened away. She stopped in front of the curved bookshelves, arms crossed over her chest.
Pedro moved slowly, so he wouldn't frighten her, and halted behind her. He had played with her innocence. Letting her out of the bet would be the gentlemanly thing to do. He could be a gentleman when he wanted to be. But not today.
"Are you a gracious loser, Ana?" He breathed the words near her neck, and the champagne-colored down covering her skin lifted to meet him.
