"Dona Inês, listen to your mother. Return to Albuquerque. It's been two months since the prince came here last. He left you alone, isolated in this godforsaken cottage. You are vulnerable. Think of the enemies you made at court."
Inês picked a hyacinth, her heart clenching around the emptiness of her lover’s absence. He had a reason to be away from her. She only wished the king had not humiliated him again. Her feet crunched fall's dry leaves. Soon, winter would come. "Do you know what the hummingbird said to the hyacinth?"
"Madam, think of yourself. Think of the danger."
Inês touched the lilac petal to her lips. "The hummingbird kissed her and told her she was the loveliest flower in the garden, and winter would pass."
"I don't know why—"
"He showed her love and warmed her from within. For the first time in her life, she knew joy."
The maid harrumphed and returned to the house.
Inês looked beyond the sky cut by umbrella pines. "Return to me, love."
Anne shut the book firmly. Inês should have left the prince. Why pour her love over a man like this? If Dom Pedro loved her, he would not have left her, would he?
Anne jumped away from the bed and rummaged through her clothing, pulling skirts and bustles from the armoire. Printed cotton and striped satins piled atop the vanity, but no color matched her disposition.
Since Pedro had saved her life, he had captured the reins of this... this relationship like Saint George holding the spear. Implacable, in control, aloof. Pedro alone decided when she could come close, when she had to stay away, when she should be delighted by his presence, when she rued his nearness. When and if she could touch him. Without a by-your-leave, he became protector. He became tormentor. The man was altogether too much and... and not nearly enough.
As a child, she’d played with magnets. Trailing two gray pieces on the sides of a vellum fold, watching as they held each other. She had driven her mother insane, running around with the stones, marveling at the magic gluing them together even when something thick stood between them. When she’d flipped the sides, a perverse force had pushed the magnets apart. How could a mere change of position turn attraction into repulsion?
Anne stared at the scar on her palm. When Pedro had traced the ugly mark, she had felt his gentleness in her heart. Hadn't she glimpsed a soft side to Pedro's ruthlessness? For a perfect moment, they had bonded. But how easily he had flipped their bond.
James whined and stared at the door, pink tongue lolling.
"I'm sorry, dear. I shouldn't bemoan my fate while you need to go."
She covered her nakedness with a chemise and petticoat and settled for an ivory shirt and a chestnut skirt. What did she expect? An aristocrat with bloodlines linked to royalty wouldn’t marry a foreigner, a girl with a dubious past.
She rubbed her chest, willing the pain away, and held her locket. There was only one solution—guard her heart, at least the part he hadn't yet touched.
Pedro would uncover the truth about the attempt on the king's life. She didn't doubt his cunning and persistence. How hard could it be to stay away from him during these days?
Anne braided her hair and coiled it on top of her head, the pins pricking her scalp. Straightening the velvet of her skirts, she stooped down to James and hugged her pug close. With a heavy sigh, she opened the door.
Pedro lorded over the corridor, leaning on the bulkhead, a leg bent at the knee. He had chosen a dashing black frock coat. His hair was tied, but a few envied strands were allowed to touch his face.
By the light of day, her behavior seemed incredibly wanton. A telling flush rose on her cheeks, and her legs turned weak. Anne tilted her head in a polite greeting, but before she could rush toward the ladder leading to the rear deck, Pedro stepped to the side, blocking the passage.
His eyes bore into her. "Are you well? I came to—"
"Perfectly fine, thank you." She bent her knee, the curtsy restrained by the narrow passage. "If you'll excuse me, James needs his morning constitutional."
Her tone, icy and polite, would make her former governess proud.
He startled, and she seized the opportunity to move past him. Strides constricted by her skirts, she kept going until she arrived at the narrow deck aft of the ship, where a square flowerbed had been arranged for James’s toilette. A breeze poured from the sea, humid and hot. Grayish clouds hung above her head, as if threatening to fall on her any minute. The waves lashed out angrily, the ocean punishing the coast.
Pedro emerged behind her, his coat hanging from his shoulder, and rolled the sleeves of his linen shirt. He paused at the railing, his gaze lost at sea. "We'll arrive in Lisbon tomorrow."
Silence stretched uncomfortably, both staring at James as the pug left the flowerbed to sniff the mincemeat on his plate.
He cleared his throat. "After this ends, you can visit the sights—"
"That would be fantastic, thank you."
She ignored his hurt look. Why did he haunt her? The distance was for the best. According to Pedro, there was no future for them. Anne must remember the list. She grabbed her locket, but the gold brought no comfort. The qualities of her perfect suitor blurred, overly simple, and childish in the face of a man like Pedro Daun. It felt this way because of this impossible situation. When she returned home, her list would make sense again. She would be safe if she remembered Pedro's words from last night and protected her heart.
