11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"I have the simplest tastes. I am always satisfied with the best."Oscar WildeHenrique braced his feet on the yacht’s deck and grabbed the railings. The sailing cruise presented endless possibilities. Recline on the silk pillows, savor fresh oysters and chilled champagne, and swim in the Atlantic. Perfect for Henrique’s plan. A full day of seeing Dolly and Charles together would be enough to chase Isabel out of Comillas. He breathed in the brine-scented breeze and allowed himself a moment of self-congratulation.

Dio sipped his sangria and examined the apple bits floating in the white wine. "Delicious stuff. Where was I? Oh yes, he arrives this evening."

"Who?" Henrique’s gaze traveled from the golden beach to the palace. Shouldn’t Isabel have arrived by now? Most of the guests had already embarked.

"Have you been listening to anything I said? Alfonso de Bourbon, who else? It’s all this Spanish folk talk about." Dio leaned closer, his voice lowering to a whisper. "Strange things are happening here. Too many secrets." He raised his brows.

Henrique waved away his concerns. Government stability in Spain had been in short supply since the Hapsburgs had inbred themselves into idiocy, ending their dynasty without an heir. Why meddle in their affairs when the effort would cause more uproar? "Tell me something new. They season their paella with political intrigues."

Henrique leaned forward but couldn’t see the princess’s room from the yacht. Would she use a bathing suit that left the arms uncovered? A detailed image of her body invaded his thoughts—alabaster skin turning peachy with the sun’s kiss—and he loosened his cravat, suddenly overheated.

Dio cleared his throat. "One would think this Bourbon prince to be a demigod, for all folk are anxious about his arrival."

"Still rambling about this prince? He could be the Grand Calipha for all I care." Henrique had dealings with royalty to last him a lifetime. He only put up with Dom Luis because of their friendship, and now the little princess because of Luis’ blatant manipulation. He had zero will to interact with a royal whelp with more conceit filling his head than gray matter.

"Where is she?" Henrique rubbed his palms together. Come on, Isabel, I dare you to prove you have more than frosty blue blood racing through your veins.

Dio watched Henrique with narrowed eyes. "If I did not know you so well, I would think you were eager to see her."

Henrique tightened his hold on the railings. "The plan won’t work if she is not aboard, will it?"

Charles waved at them, his fair skin already an alarming shade of red. How futile to ask him to stay concealed until Isabel embarked. With his ginger hair combed up and his gaudy summer coat fighting with his magenta vest, he was as inconspicuous as a peacock hiding behind a maypole.

Dio sighed and shook his head. "Are you sure this is a good idea? Do you remember his affair with the baroness? People still talk about the duel and how the angry husband shot his buttocks."

"Charles promised to behave," Henrique said with less conviction than he should. What could happen in a confined yacht with Henrique and Dio keeping close watch? Charles would be let loose long enough for Isabel to see him pursuing Dolly and listen to a pathetic declaration or two.

Steps clattered on the wooden pier. It must be Isabel. Henrique straightened, his hands twitching to help her aboard.

Dolly crossed the drawbridge and ambled inside the deck. Alone. Henrique’s arm went lax, and his shoulders deflated.

When the girl saw him, she lowered her head and increased her steps.

Henrique blocked her path. "Isabel?"

Her face colored, and she peeped at her pink skirts, the bonnet hiding her eyes. "I haven’t seen her since last night."

Henrique exhaled and moved out of her way.

What had happened? As if he didn’t know. The princess must have stayed locked inside, paying her respects to boring aristocrats and burying herself alive in the middle of this paradise. A wave of disappointment hit him in the guts. What a waste. All of a sudden, the pillows seemed faded and flattened, the champagne still, and the oysters spoiled.

Henrique twisted the ropes of the yacht as the hull rocked from side to side, the rhythm morose.

The duchess emerged from the downstairs cabin, straightening her naval officer’s jacket. Her loose skirt caught the wind like a sail, emphasizing her ample hips. She came closer, a bright smile showing her teeth.

"I thought you had invited everyone," Henrique said, unable to disguise the sullen tone of his voice.

"Good morning to you too, querido." She tapped his arm with her closed fan, her eyes glittering. "Isn’t everything to your liking? You mentioned you were easy to please."

A crew member delivered her a note. She opened the piece of paper, and her smile wavered. She cramped it in her hand. "Canastra isn’t coming. Lift anchor."

The boy hurried away. Shouts instructed to unfurl the sails. The wind picked up, animating the canvas like a dancer’s veil.

"Make no mistake, I’m eager to start the journey, but won’t Isabel be cross if we leave without her?" She would sweep down on them from her lofty heights, a vengeful pirate princess demanding they walk the plank.

"Isabel has no passion for sailing… And the tide waits for no one. Come, I have someone dying to meet us—the duke’s private wine collection." She curled her hand around his forearm and licked her lips.

Henrique stared at the jewels bedecking her fingers. An emerald the size of a robin’s egg flashed at him. The exact tone of Isa’s eyes.

"You go ahead. The guests are waiting."

"As you wish." Tossing her head, she sauntered away.

Groups opened to greet their host.

She paused in their midst. "Welcome to the Poseidon. I have only one rule: the first who speaks about politics will be dunked in the ocean."

Claps and laughter followed the statement, soon engulfed by excited chattering and clinking glasses.

Henrique grabbed Dio’s arm. "Keep an eye on the love birds."

"But what about you? Never tell me you will resist the duchess? She is riper than a grape in September. The plan can always start tomorrow."

A crewman released the rope tying the boat to the pier. The hull swayed and lurched to the sea. Henrique stared at the gap between the pleasure barge and the dock. Two feet now, and increasing.

Tensing his grip on the railing, Henrique leaped.

Dio gasped. "I’ll be damned."