Love? Was that the word for what he felt? This need to pursue, to possess, to protect? Men loved their prize horses, their weekend hunting, their games.
Pedro placed his palm above his chest. His heart pulsed stronger than ever but was no longer his. The keeper, infinitely more vulnerable and precious than him, was Anne.
His connection to her was more like a state of being—a place. A meadow he’d glimpsed when she had appeared in Salgueiro. One he had denied, barricaded himself outside, scoffed at its poor defenses, and now would wage a war to see its sunlit grass one more time. A place of drowning in dry land and breathing underwater, where the skin hummed with energy, where pain became pleasure, and shadows became light.
Cris waited for an answer, eyes humid.
Pedro glanced away, reluctant to say it out loud. It wouldn't matter. The tower’s stones harbored no lovers, no meadow. "Now I have a heart?"
Cris touched Pedro's shoulder. "I think you have the biggest heart this side of the Tagus. You're just damn good at hiding it."
Pedro grasped his brother's broad frame. God, he had missed the rascal. He should have embraced him more. Who would take care of him now?
"Perhaps a tad rusty, too." Cris chuckled, slapping Pedro's back. "But you'll manage. After we break free."
Pedro held Cris at arm's length. With his brother here, his accusers had more leverage against him. The last time someone had attempted to kill a king in Portugal was in 1758, and his fate had been exemplary. Dom Jose had killed not only the Duke of Aveiro but wiped out all his household, including his servants.
Cris leaned his hip on a port pipe. "So, what is our plan?"
"I will propose a deal." Pedro's stay at the tower would be brief, after all. Those convicted of killing royalty had short life expectancies.
"Always with a card up your sleeve, eh?" Cris smiled. "What will it be?"
Chapter 39
Annewokeupwitha terrible migraine. She opened her eyes to a strange, opaque hotel room. After living in a perfect dream, reality had plucked her back. She pressed her fists to her head, trying to return to the dream. But it was useless. Every time she opened her eyes, it was to dull mahogany walls and Pedro's absence.
Restless, she turned to lie on her stomach. The locket pierced the skin of her chest, and she yanked it away. She stared at it, regret making it hard to breathe. She could not keep the memories from coming, from Pedro's protective rages to his unbridled lovemaking. Their last moment together had been the most bittersweet. Pedro had lovingly traced the burns on her palms and promised to accept her heart if she thought he was still worth it.
Anne clasped the locket. Perhaps he regretted his lies.
What if Julia was right? Could Pedro have changed because of her? He would return to the villa eager to see her, to celebrate his success, only to discover her absence. She would join the ranks of people in his life who had abandoned him. She could not bear to think of his pain.
Voices floated from the connecting chamber. Anne sat up, pulling her legs to the side of the bed. Julia and Griffin. She covered her camisole with a wrapper and crept silently to the half-opened door, peeking in at the adjoining room.
"But Griffin, don't you see? She is in love with him." Julia caressed her tummy, worrying her lip between her teeth.
Griffin snorted, his brows cocked arrogantly. "Love? My sister is an incurable romantic. According to Anne, love is the cure for all maladies. Have recurrent sadness? Put the fellow to love. A bad tooth? Put him to love. A sore back? Put him to love. Tender digestion? Put him to love. A habit of telling lies? Love! But even you must admit, love is no cure for Pedro Daun."
Her brother was wrong. Had love not cured his own prejudices? Before he’d met Julia, he had lived a barren life, obsessed with work. Why couldn’t love cure Pedro's anguish?
Julia glared at her brute of her husband. "But— "
"Don't give me that face, Julia. I know exactly what you are thinking. But you won't maneuver me out of this. I'm sending her to England. She can stay with my mother's relations and have a Season. The scandal would not have reached there and with a proper dowry..."
Blood climbed Anne's head until the tips of her ears burned. She fisted her hands so hard her nails bit into her palms. "No."
Griffin stopped his ranting and turned, his mouth hanging open. "What did you say?"
"You don't know Pedro as I do. He made mistakes in the past, but he deserves a second chance."
"I will tell you who Pedro Daun is. Pedro Daun is a scoundrel, a blackguard, a ravisher of young women."
Anne took a fortifying breath. "Griffin, I'm a grown woman. I love Pedro, and he needs me."
Julia let out a squeal but hushed when Griffin turned to her.
Griffin recovered from his shock and crossed his arms above his chest. "He is beyond your help."
