James finished his meal and padded straight to the statue-like man leaning on the railing. When she took a tentative step closer to pick James and leave the servants’ deck, Pedro crouched. Her eyes widened as he petted James behind his ears, the place she knew the traitor loved, and spoke to the dog in hushed Portuguese.
Before her resolve melted, she hurried away.
"He admonished me for disobeying his orders." Anne poured tea, her lips compressed in a thin line. "Sugar?"
"Yes, please."
Cris had foregone the cravat today, another piece of gentlemen's clothing he had ignored during their travel. She was sure he would soon adopt a pirate's attire, corsair pants and some rags for a shirt. If he wore an eye patch, his flashing green eyes wouldn't probe her so.
Anne averted her glance to the windows. White foam bubbled in the yacht's wake. Near the horizon, charcoal clouds clotted together like a band of outcasts.
Cris wolfed down a pastry. "When I arrived, he had locked himself with you in the cabin. I find it hard to believe—"
"If you were so concerned, then why did I hear no one knocking on the door?"
Cris flushed and averted his gaze. It had been rude of her, but still... he shouldn't judge her if he could not stand up to his older brother. Cris and Pedro's speech was often charged with innuendos and veiled criticisms. At first, she’d thought love and loyalty bonded them, but their relationship was more complicated. The hurt she sensed simmering below the surface tied them together and ripped them apart.
"Good morning." The smoky voice made her heart jump.
Anne glared at Cris. He shrugged but mercifully dropped the questions as Pedro strolled inside, his eyes sweeping the room she had commandeered since boarding the yacht. Her things disturbed his decoration, the easel with watercolors near his prized landscape, novels scattered over the escritoire, her shawl draped over the brocade chaise. She straightened in the chair, hoping he would reprove her and ask her to remove them. But he didn't register displeasure, just frowned, perhaps surprised to find them seated at the breakfast table. He never joined her for meals, instead eating alone in his cabin.
She watched his expression from beneath her eyelashes. He had cloaked himself in a mantle of aloofness, like a lake covered with a layer of ice. How could he be so self-possessed when she lacked balance, her body alternating between shivers and cold sweats? An urge gripped her to break his composure, to throw a stone and shatter his ice, and she cringed at the ungracious thought.
Pedro raised his chin, greeting Cris. "I was looking for you."
He was after his brother, then. She should be relieved.
Circling behind her, Pedro pulled the chair at the table's head. "I've been trying to make sense of the notes we found at the bodyguard's cottage." Not sparing her a single glance, he threw a book atop the table and sprawled like a king. "The pages are innocuous, but this caught my attention."
"A telegraph?" Cris lowered his cup.
"Yes, signed by Fernando and addressed to me."
Cris squinted his eyes, intent on the strip of paper. "Blasted codes. Did you try to break it?"
Pedro raised his brows. "What do you think?"
Cris sneered and rose. "I have code keys in my cabin. I'll be right back."
Anne wanted to ask the safe brother to stay, but Cris had already crossed to the doorway. Pedro's gaze caught hers. His attention felt like a burner too close to her skin. Anne averted her eyes and picked up a pomegranate. She pressed a knife against the waxy skin, but her hand quivered, and the obstinate fruit slipped from her grasp.
Even the food conspired against her.
Clenching her hands below the table, she closed her eyes, trying to forestall humiliating tears.
Pedro seized the pomegranate. "Allow me."
"Do you think me a child? Unable to cut my food?"
He placed it in front of him, his long fingers engulfing the coral sphere. His expression belonged to a perfect statue. Had yesterday meant nothing to him?
"There is a trick." With an elegant turn of his wrist, he sliced the fruit, exposing a core filled with bright pips. "Do you know Hades fed the seeds to Persephone when she was in the underworld? To force her to return to him every year?"
He extended his arm, offering her the pomegranate. Anne stared at his hands, the same ones that had caressed her so tenderly only to push her away. Her stomach hardened, and she crossed her arms. "He must have loved her exceedingly, wanting to keep her close."
His eyes flashed, and he lowered the plate. "Do you think the sacrifice of her freedom an act of love?"
Wasn't love supposed to be all-consuming? She glanced away, her voice faltering. "I know little about mythology."
