32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

“The tongue has no bones, but bones it crashes.”Greek ProverbShe flew over a flamboyant tree, chasing its red petals. Then her wings folded like singed paper, and she dropped into warmth. Isabel floated and sighed in contentment, burrowing closer to the source. Lips met the skin below her ear, and a shiver danced down her spine. Henrique’s scent filled her lungs, and she knew she was dreaming. A delicious dream she never wanted to end.

The sound of waves upset the haze. Why should the outside world intrude on her dreams? She wasn’t ready to let go of Henrique’s warmth. Not yet.

A screech made her eyes shoot open.

A gull had landed on the windowsill. Head cocked to the side, it stared at her.

"What’s this ruckus about?" Henrique’s voice, rusty from sleep, teased her nape.

Isabel scrambled from the bed. When her bare feet touched the stone floor, she noticed her dishabille. Panting, she yanked the bedsheet and wrapped herself. A mistake. Now Henrique lay on his side, his chest uncovered, miles of bronzed skin displayed to the morning light.

A devilish grin lifted his lips, and he raised a brow, no doubt quite aware of his effect on her.

"They say married couples fight petty battles over bed covers, but one should know you would take matters too far." He rolled to his back, one arm flung behind his head. "Shut the windows, will you? I’m cold."

Isabel backed away, placing distance between her person and that indecent arrangement of muscles, sleepy lips, sinful blue eyes, and compelling scruff. "You! What are you doing here?"

Henrique sat up, his hair disheveled. "This is my house… so."

His house? Isabel turned slowly, holding the bedsheet to her chest. Naked stone walls surrounded her. A pond-sized copper bath stood indecently against floor-to-ceiling windows. Pillows of every color were strewed around the hearth as if waiting for their harem owners. The decoration combined medieval with exotic. Isabel shut her eyes. Was she dreaming?

She had been in her room, and a knock on the door had brought her to her feet. Henrique had appeared, his face set with determination. Memories of being tossed and jolted flitted through her mind, and before this, white teeth smiling at her from tanned skin. What did he do? And why? Could it be a plot to separate her from Alfonso? No. Not Henrique. He had a woman in every port. Why cart away a betrothed one?

"You drugged me and took me here against my will. You, you craven kidnapper, deceiver of—"

"There, there, no need for epithets." He rose and stretched his arms. "I could do no less for my country."

"Why interfere and bring me to this—What is this place? Your medieval seraglio?”

"I wish… This is my property, the very aptly named Princess Tower," he boasted, thrilled with himself.

Did he hold nothing sacred? Of course, considering a woman’s feelings was beyond his rakish philandering, but had he no respect for church and country?

"You don’t know the story? My ancestor used the tower to lock his wife so she would not meddle in his affairs—"

"Is this your idea of a joke? For taking me against my will, you will be charged with treason—"

"What in one country is called treason, in another can earn a medal." His voice turned gravelly, and the laughter left the corners of his eyes.

"Your actions don’t deserve medals in any country. Unless you gave your loyalty to a nation of pirates."

"Your brother can be piratical when he wants to be. What about you, Isabel? Have your loyalties changed? Did your wish to be a Spanish queen overrule your love for Portugal?"

"Stop this instant. I forbid—"

"Was it the joined crowns of Portugal and Spain that lured you from my arms to Alfonso’s?"

She lifted her hand to slap him, but he grabbed her wrist before she could connect with his cheek.

"I heard Canastra speaking with the prince. The second you grace Alfonso’s bed, they will steal your brother’s crown."

Isabel sucked in a breath. The walls blurred, and she fell on the mattress.

Henrique threw at her accusation upon accusation, and her head felt swollen with them. From the moment she had said yes to Alfonso, she had lived in a trance, wishing to turn back the clock, and if that didn’t work, then at least she had hoped to speed time to a point when it didn’t hurt so much.

"I didn’t know," she whispered.

He stopped talking. The enormity of his claim descended over her shoulders, and Isabel covered her face with clammy palms. How could Alfonso do this to her? She gave him the flag, and he had promised to renounce any claim to the Portuguese throne.

She could not blame him, not really. Not even Canastra. The duke was an opportunistic aristocrat and would do whatever possible to grasp power. No, the fault was hers. If she had not acted so harshly… After she allowed passion in her life, all she fought to protect—her morals, her reputation—had come crashing down.

Henrique crouched at her feet. His warmth seeped through the bedsheet. She didn’t move her legs.

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Do you love him?"

She looked away.

He pulled her chin back to him. His scent brushed against her, making it impossible for her to hide. She stared into his twinkling, earnest blue gaze.

"Don’t you think I deserve an explanation? After risking my limbs to take you away from Spain?"

He caressed the pleats on her forehead, and it was hard not to lean into his touch. "Have I not proved myself a faithful patriot?"

"Faithful?" The hurt of witnessing him kissing her cousin pierced her anew, and Isabel flinched. "I was there. I saw you with Rafaela." She hugged herself, her body folding. Perhaps if she shrunk, she could reduce the amount of pain she could absorb.

Henrique stood and raked his hand through his disheveled hair. "You accepted Alfonso’s proposal because of Rafaela?" He shook his head and expelled a most ungentlemanly snort. "The irony of ironies. The patriotic princess risking her country’s independence because of jealousy."

Isabel’s cheeks burned as a wave of heat incinerated her veins. "I request an escort, my tiara, and my clothes. I’m leaving this ridiculous tower." She preferred to face the long journey back to Lisbon than spend another minute with Henrique.

His expression closed. "It seems Your Highness will have to make do with the current facilities."

Who was he to order her about? Isabel lifted her chin. "I would rather not."

"I will have to insist." He took hold of the key and opened the tower’s door.

Isabel gasped. "You cannot keep me a prisoner."

"I prefer to call you a pampered guest, but suit yourself."

Isabel flung a pillow at the door. Henrique closed it just in time, and the pathetic piece of fluff sailed half a distance and sprawled on the floor, defeated. Huffing, her cheeks burning and her chest heaving, Isabel threw its twins, and when her ammunition ended, she grabbed the empty pitcher and hurled it. The porcelain shattered into a million pieces.

She screamed her throat raw. How preposterous. Henrique could not keep her here. She would get out, one way or the other. She raced to the windows. A five-story drop to a rocky cliff promised a harrowing fall. She inspected the walls and peeked behind the tapestries. Nothing. The circular tower was a perfect prison.

Porcelain shards cracked under her soles, and she bent to pick up the mess. Tears flooded her nose and throat, and she lowered herself to the floor. Her brother had trusted her to exert her influence, to move about the chessboard as only a queen could. Instead, she had allowed Canastra and Alfonso to outmaneuver her. Shame curdled her stomach and hunched her shoulders, her head weighing unbearably. Still, it paled compared to Henrique’s betrayal.

The door opened, and Isabel hastily stood. Three maids marched inside, their white and grey uniforms spotless. They bobbed a curtsy in unison and set up about their duties. If they thought anything strange about having a lady imprisoned in her master’s room, they gave no signal.

A diminutive woman in her fifties carried fresh linens, and the door closed behind her. From the ominous click, Isabel inferred someone outside had locked it.

She returned Isabel’s stare with an astute one, her birdlike head tilted to the side. "Your Highness, may I introduce myself? I’m Tia Antonia, the housekeeper of the Braganza Castle and a proud subject of His Majesty."

Isabel thrust her chin forward. "If you know who I am, how could you condone your master’s keeping me here?"

"The master told me… everything. I understand the princess is our guest until the country’s independence is no longer at risk."

"I must return to Lisbon and speak with the king. I need to right this wrong."

"Sometimes a right is done by staying put."

"I can’t stay under your master’s rule. I can’t." Her cheek flushed, and she moved to the window.

The housekeeper’s steps sounded behind her. "I have known him since he was a baby. All that bluster? Only on the outside. Drove his papa crazy, he did. But Master Henrique has a heart of gold. I bet my old eyes it’s eating his insides to keep you locked here. He could never watch another creature suffering without suffering himself."

The housekeeper bowed and turned to leave.

"Can you bring me the newspaper?"

"Of course."

Henrique’s servants left. The room was again spotless as if her pique had not occurred. Sophie entered, carrying a tray. Isabel smiled. Thank God she was all right. Sophie set the burden on the table and rushed to her, and Isabel welcomed the fussing.

"Is he treating you well? Did you bring my clothes? My tiara?" Isabel would feel much more herself after she dressed properly.

"Yes, and yes—"

"Then I will change after breakfast," Isabel said, selecting an apple from the tray.

Sophie flushed, wringing her hands. "Citizen Henrique confiscated the valise. He told me you will be more comfortable in bedclothes, considering you won’t go anywhere."

A rush of blood rose on her face, and she saw red. She would strangle him and keep doing it, even if he laughed at her efforts.

The housekeeper’s voice replayed in her head. He could never watch another creature suffering without suffering himself.

Reluctantly, Isabel released the fruit she was about to sink her teeth into. A tiny smile appeared at the corner of her lips. If she could not leave, then she would make keeping her here impossible.