Page 105 of The Taste of Light
Pedro's heart slammed against his ribs, and he lifted his hands. "Anne, no!"
Ulrich’s eyes widened. "There now, pet. Drop the knife."
She lifted her chin, her eyes gleaming with unfathomable strength. "If I kill myself, you won't be able to play your twisted game, will you?" She pressed the blade against her neck and turned to Pedro. "Your father sold you to Ulrich ten years ago. He arranged the attack with a single purpose. To destroy your values."
Pedro's gut twisted, and he fisted his hands, his nails drawing blood from his palms. His father had given Ulrich their location in Mozambique? Had forced him to choose between his brother and the people he’d been sworn to protect? His mind shot back to his return from Mozambique. Father had awaited him with open arms, eager to receive him back into the fold. Pedro had played into his hand, his lesson well learned.
Eying Anne as if she had become a ghost, Ulrich stepped back, leaving the cover of the bleachers. He cocked the gun and aimed at Pedro's chest. "I'm sorry to do this, Almoster. Your father was a mentor to me. It's with regret that I make him childless."
A shot exploded, startling the doves into a frightened flight. The pistol whizzed from Ulrich's grip. The slave trader fell backward, cradling his hand. Pedro's eyes flicked to the hill, and his brother waved. Thank God for Cris’s marksmanship.
Pedro grabbed Ulrich's pistol and hit the slave trader's head with the butt of the gun. Ulrich dropped to the sand, evil eyes closed, unconscious.
Pedro rushed to Anne. Gently, he pulled the knife from her neck and tossed it away. He’d thought he had the impregnable armor, but it turned out she carried all the strength. An angel covered in steel.
She lifted her eyes to him and placed a cold palm over his cheek. Tears ran quietly from her eyes. "Do you understand? Your father revealed a monster in Mozambique, but it was not you."
Chapter 47
Herlegsgaveway,and she tumbled to the sand. Pedro kneeled at her front and cradled her cheeks. Their gazes met. Rain poured on them, washing away the blood, the sand, the grit. The kaleidoscope in Pedro's eyes turned, revealing new shades, lighter, brighter shades. No words left their mouths. No words could express the horror, the trial, the relief, the love.
The rain stopped. The sun slashed the black clouds, and sunlight descended over the arena, glinting off the pools on the sand.
Anne brushed diamond drops from Pedro's cheek. "Is he gone?"
Pedro glanced at the man slumped not ten feet from them. "Ulrich will live to face justice—"
Anne brought his gaze back to her. "I'm not talking about Ulrich."
He frowned, his chin dipping down. Then his eyes lit from within. "My father is gone for good."
Anne clung to Pedro's neck. Relief washed over her like one of Nazare's waves, leaving her trembling as if reborn. Pedro’s heart beat close to hers, the blood flowing with his vitality, his breath ruffling her temples.
He fused their lips. A breathless, possessive kiss. Anne drank him in with desperation, so thirsty for him that she forgot to breathe. Pedro held nothing back, and her heart sang as if a thousand angels had found their way inside her chest.
Pedro broke the kiss and pulled her behind him, his stance turning protective. Guards poured into the arena, their red and white uniforms contrasting with the bloodstained sand.
"You should have saved some of the battle for us." Gabriel clasped Pedro's back and smiled at Anne.
A blond gentleman dressed in severe civilian clothes padded near, his striking blue eyes taking in the felled Ulrich. He then turned to Pedro and grinned.
His Majesty.
Anne gasped and dropped into a hasty curtsy.
Other officers surrounded them, their rapid-fire questions making her dizzy. Anne recognized her brother among the strangers. He weaved through the crowd to get to her, and Anne flung herself into her brother's arms.
He kissed her forehead and then embraced her. "I hope Julia births a boy. I won't survive this kind of excitement a second time."
"Yes, you will, Mr. Maxwell." Anne laughed, tasting the salt of her tears.
The king slapped Pedro's back with such vigor he would have felled a lesser man. But not her Pedro. Hair disheveled, clothes dusty and bloodied, he exuded self-confidence. Anne linked her arm with Griffin’s, watching their interaction with love and fierce pride. Pedro deserved every inch of redemption the king would grant him.
The king stared into Pedro's eyes. "I told these fools you were innocent. I never doubted your honor." He turned to the others, his voice grave and loud. "It is our most fervent wish that Pedro Daun, Count of Almoster, resumes his rightful place in Portugal's court. We nominate him as Minister of Foreign Affairs."
The audience cheered. What brightened their smiles, Anne had been the first to discover. Behind Pedro’s aloof armor lived a man, fiercely loyal, protective, and noble, who loved with the same intensity he fought. She wasn’t jealous to share this side of Pedro with the world. While everyone could be dazzled by him, only Anne could touch all his nuances, drench her palate with his reserved playfulness, and immerse herself in his scorching lovemaking. Only she could taste his light.
The king raised his palms, asking for silence. The claps dwindled and then stopped altogether.
