"Thank you, dear." Anne accepted the hat and held it to her chest.
The bird leaped into the drawer, picked a paper with his curved beak, and offered it to her. The music repeated the same notes, spinning and spinning. After a moment of hesitation, Anne presented her palm to receive her luck. Would it besorteorazar?
After a deep breath, Anne unfolded the message.
'A flawless heart may find true love, but those who love a flawed heart find the truest love of all.'
Gripping her locket, Anne stared until the lines blurred. A gray cloud covered the sun, and the water breeze seeped into her thin cotton dress. "Beatriz, let's return."
The maid grinned and gave a coin to therealejoman. The melancholic sounds of the music box followed them along the street as they retraced the path to the yacht, and Anne urged Beatriz to speed her steps.
A metallic cacophony made them halt. Hooves.
Soldiers entered the square through both exits. Anne covered her mouth and stumbled. Pedro was in danger. They must return posthaste. She needed to alert him before... no, she would not picture him behind bars.
A painful grip on her forearm jarred her balance, and before she could so much as breathe, she was pulled into the shadows.
"Don't say a word."
They hid in the nook between two buildings while soldiers trumpeted their arrival mere feet away. Anne nodded, and the rough palm covering her mouth dropped.
Pedro stepped away from her.
Panting, Anne reached for him. "Thank God. I was worried. The riders arrived—"
"Spare me your concern." Pedro’s voice could freeze the channel. He turned to her companion, his expression an icy mask. "For your part in this, you will work in the galley for a week."
Beatriz's shoulders sank, and she nodded, looking at the ground.
Anne hurried forward. "It was my fault. If you are going to punish someone, you can— "
"I know exactly whose blunder this is, Miss Maxwell." He bared his teeth. "Don't despair. I'll reserve your punishment for a private place."
Anne crushed her bonnet against her chest. She barely recognized him, and it had nothing to do with the sailor's clothing. Eyes glinting, mouth pressed into a sharp line, his whole body exuded forbidding energy.
"How many Portuguese women have you seen with hair the color of yours? You are a walking target."
"I didn't mean to. The bonnet flew away. I— "
"Put it back."
She wouldn't let him order her around. Anne raised her chin. "No."
"Now is not the time to try my patience." He yanked the hat from her hands. "Beatriz, help Miss Maxwell conceal her hair."
The maid hastened to Anne's side, face ashen. If Anne provoked the count further, no doubt Beatriz would break down, so she turned, allowing her friend to arrange a bun atop her head and then cover it with the straw bonnet.
Pedro leaned over the wall, staring at the street. When the maid finished, he signaled for them to follow.
Heart thundering in her chest, Anne struggled to keep up with his long strides. Next to thepastelaria, two soldiers talked with therealejoman. Inquiring about Pedro? God, if they only looked at her, they would know her show of calm to be false.
Pedro guided them to a path veering away from the canal's main branch. Three-storied buildings crammed the street on both sides, blocking the light. A channel appeared a few steps further, forming a natural pier under a rickety bridge, water lapping at the mud-colored sand. A gondola bobbed in the shallow. This was his plan? To take the boat? Anne would ask, but she couldn't muster the words. Pedro had the warmth of a block of ice.
A crash sounded to their left, and he spun, drawing her and Beatriz to a crevice in the wall. He retrieved a pistol and pointed it at the threat—a boy racing after a ball.
She grabbed Pedro's arm. "It's a child."
Pedro's gaze shifted to her, pain flickering in his eyes.
