"Red currants. They are typical of the region."
Anne placed a currant on her lip. "Should I pop them in my mouth, or do they have seeds?"
His stare heated, and he took the fruit from her. "That's not how we will eat them."
Pedro burst the tiny grape between his long, aristocratic fingers. A thrill of giddy anticipation coursed through her as he smeared her lips with the tart juice, and then licked her bottom lip clean.
Anne's chest fluttered, and she tipped her head back, wanting more. But Pedro had other plans, and linking their hands, he guided her to the bed. Her heart bolted inside her chest, and a flush rose on her skin. They had made love already, and the intimacy was wonderful, but still new. Gently, he unwrapped the sheet from under her arms. Anne stretched on the mattress, the breeze lapping her skin.
Pedro bolstered her back with a cushion, arching her spine. Warmth drenched her, and she stifled the impulse to cover herself. He drew on her collarbone with currant juice, his fingers searing her skin, then bent his head and licked his designs. When he arrived at her breasts, Anne was breathless, her nerve endings tingling. He stared at his drawings, his face so close his breaths rolled deliciously over her cooling skin.
He lay by her side and caressed her heated flesh, soothing her with Portuguese murmurs and moist kisses.
"I've dreamed of this." He painted her nipples with the syrupy juice and then covered them with his mouth.
Anne lost any semblance of decorum and moaned, holding his neck, sifting her fingers through his hair. She had enough currants for a lifetime and caressed his flanks, willing him closer. Instead of entering her, he rolled the pillow under her buttocks. The position forced her legs apart, opening her to his gaze. Anne should protest. But propriety was the least of her cares, desire making her bold. He placed currants above her mound and stopped.
"Pedro, please."
He licked and laved and nipped. Stars exploded behind her eyelids, and shudders of pleasure traveled up and down her limbs. Her pulse throbbed, and she tipped her head back, a sigh emerging from her soul. When she could not bear more of his unrelenting exploration, he removed the pillow and climbed up her body, melding their chests.
His weight atop her fulfilled her, and she opened her legs to accommodate him. He had currant juice above his lip, and Anne stole it with her tongue. Groaning, he held her head and fused their mouths, his heart beating desperately against her chest.
Panting, he pulled away. "I need inside you."
His eyes still had shadows, and she would soon want to take part in those, but not tonight.
"Always," she vowed, welcoming him with all her being.
He entered her, stretching her inch by inch. When he was lodged in her core, he stilled. His pulse beat inside her, and her passage clenched around him. She pressed against him, and only when desire made her plead did he deign to give her what her body craved, moving deliciously. Each lunge instilled his essence into her. Anne entangled herself in his hair and splayed her hands over his shoulder blades, loving the ropy muscles of his back straining and relaxing under her palms, the sweaty glide of skin against skin. An exquisite tingle overcame her senses. Anne arched her back as spasm after frenzied spasm radiated from her core, and pure white light flooded her.
Shuddering, Anne sought Pedro's mouth. He drank her moans and crashed into paradise with her. Afterward, he kissed the top of her head and held her close. The questions he wouldn't answer and the words he wouldn't say quieted themselves, leaving only the peaceful silence of his breathing.
After breakfast, Pedro left the dining room and came back with a package. Anne admired how the velvet coat emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow waist, but she much preferred him sans the gentleman’s attire. The naughty thought startled her, and warmth rose on her cheeks.
Pedro placed the leather satchel atop the table and seated himself. "This is Braganza's evidence."
Anne touched it reverently. Would they finally be able to prove Pedro's innocence? "Was it really there?"
"Exactly where you discovered it would be." A note of pride colored his voice.
Anne flushed with pleasure at his praise. They had shared so much yesterday. How was she supposed to behave outside the bedroom? Pedro usually preferred to be alone...
Anne eyed his furrowed brows and businesslike attitude, already missing their passionate interlude. Did reality have to intrude so soon? "Do you want me to go away, so you can—?"
"Stay. Your help proved invaluable, and I—"
Anne leaped into his lap and rained kisses down his face.
"I will take that as a yes." He chuckled and kissed her back with abandon. Then he pulled away, his eyes heated. "You best control your enthusiasm, or the documents will have to wait another day."
"I'll behave," she said but refused to relinquish her spot on his lap.
When he opened the leather envelope, foreboding curdled her stomach. He hadn't spoken of their future. What if they returned to their normal lives after they proved his innocence? Their flowering relationship forgotten? Was it too selfish of her to want to preserve this moment? Anne would gladly exchange an uncertain future for a prolonged stay in this villa, listening to his guitar, drinkingVinho Luz, and making love.
The scent of paper and ink brought her back to reality. Pedro scattered notes, documents, letters, lists, and maps. Some were old, yellowed at the edges, and some were clearly new.
Pedro stared at the papers, his gaze distant.
