Ulrich had Anne.
The door flung inward, and Maxwell burst inside, brushing away the king's secretary. His face was gray as ash. "What have you done with her this time?"
Pedro sucked in a breath as rage hardened his chest, his heart. His vision tunneled at the Englishman. He grabbed Maxwell's shoulder. "Where. Is. She?"
"Don't pretend ignorance—" Maxwell's gaze searched his, and he must have seen something that forced him to pause. "My sister is gone."
Chapter 42
GabrielwatchedPedroandMaxwell circle each other. The aura of menace and hate emanating from them raged too wild to be contained. Miss Anne Maxwell's disappearance sank into Gabriel's chest. He had wrecked Pedro's life, and an innocent girl had suffered for his lie.
Gabriel shook away the stupor and pushed away from the table. He would carry on Pedro's orders and summon the guards.
Halfway to the door, the thud of a fist hitting flesh made Gabriel wince. Pedro punched Maxwell's gut, and the Englishman retaliated by shoving Pedro from him and crushing his fist against Pedro's face.
Gabriel could not watch them kill each other, but before he could separate the pair, Cris blocked his way. "Let them blow some steam. It will help clear the air a bit."
Henrique followed the struggle, his expression a mixture of excitement and concern. "I bet two caskets of port on Pedro." At Gabriel's perplexed look, Henrique shrugged. "What? Inflation, of course. I only accept wine these days. But If Pedro sends the Englishman back to his maker, I'll volunteer to care for his lovely widow. Second time is a charm, eh?"
Santiago held Gabriel's arm and whispered, "Who is the Englishman with the death wish? Should I retrieve my cassock? I cannot perform last rites smelling of lavender."
"Let's hope it will not come to that," Gabriel said with more conviction than he felt.
Pedro held Maxwell by his lapel. His eyes had a ferocity that would put a lesser man into a drop-your-musket-and-run-for-your-life kind of retreat. "You took her from under my roof and let her wander unprotected? Didn't you know she was at risk? If Ulrich got her—"
"Better this fellow than you. At least he is not after some petty revenge," Maxwell spoke through clenched teeth.
Pedro stabbed his finger at Maxwell's chest. "I never transferred my hate from you to her. Anne appeared on my doorstep by herself. She... She brought light into my life, and she is with him. Ulrich is a sadist, and now he has the power to push me back into the darkness. And you with me."
Maxwell backed away, shaking his head. "I loathe the day you stumbled into our lives. Anne is a sweet—"
The hiss of metal sliding against a scabbard chilled the dispatch room.
"Don't call her sweet." Pedro held the tip of his saber to Maxwell's Adam's apple.
Cris shot to his feet, no doubt rethinking his strategy of letting them resolve their issues.
Maxwell didn't cower. The strained set of his jaw was the only visible sign he had poked a lion with a short straw.
Gabriel had seen his cousin in battle, radiating reckless energy and deadly intent. But not like this. Pedro sustained the sword, his body charged with animal aggression. "She is the strongest, brightest, most selfless person I have ever met. Never call her sweet."
No one breathed. Gabriel feared his cousin would kill Griffin, and by their companion's faces, they shared his dire opinion.
With a slash of his arm, Pedro flung away the sword. The saber clanked twice, and a pregnant silence ensued.
Pedro's frame shook as if he was receiving invisible blows to his chest.
Gabriel shifted his gaze from Pedro to Maxwell. What would he do? If the stoic Englishman proved immune to Pedro's pain, Gabriel would kill Maxwell himself.
The Englishman stared at Pedro for several heartbeats, his fists cocked by his side, his breathing harsh and loud. But as Pedro's dry sobs gained intensity, the fight drained from the Englishman's expression. He took a tentative step forward and placed his hand over Pedro's shoulder. "I... I did not know. You love her."
Pedro lifted his eyes to the taller man and grabbed the Englishman's arm. For a second, Gabriel feared Maxwell had gone too far.
Then Pedro clasped the Englishman, hitting his back with closed fists. Maxwell held firm. Pedro's punches stopped, and he splayed his hands on Maxwell's coat. A collective breath sounded in the dispatch room as the bitter enemies held each other in a strained embrace.
Gabriel nodded at Cris, who took it all in with apparent relief.
Henrique flung his arm around Gabriel's shoulder. "Good God, are they going to kiss?"
