Page 75 of The Taste of Light
He lifted his shoulders and dropped them in a resigned gesture. "Il finirò."
What if the strangers didn't mean them harm? They could have families. She wouldn't have their deaths on her conscience. "No."
"I have my orders,signorina." He waved to the stairs dismissively, as if she weren't better than a child. "Beatriz, accompany Miss Maxwell."
Anne had enough males ordering her for two lifetimes and didn't need another. "What if there are others?" Planting her feet on the carpet, she crossed her arms. "Won't they notice if these men disappear? What if they send replacements to investigate? Will you kill them all?"
The rugged Italian shifted his weight from side to side, rubbing his forehead. He seemed nervous. Beatriz looked about to be sick.
Sick...
Sick!
"I have a plan," Anne said, her mind already listing all the things they would need. It was daring but better than murder.
The Italian stared her down, but his chestnut eyes wavered.
Anne didn't budge.
Dante glided his forefinger below his chin. "The count will have my neck."
"If my plan fails and they discover the house belongs to Pedro, you can shoot them."
This had to work.
Wringing her hands, Anne addressed her motley crew. "We'll need dirt, a large camisole, and all the chamber pots."
Anne perched on the settee, her back not touching the upholstery, fingers crossed on her lap, heart pumping madly. She adjusted Hilaria's mantilla around her head and shoulders, so no single strand appeared. She would not make the same mistake twice and expose her hair.
The housekeeper entered the parlor, leading the strangers. Anne swallowed and forced her eyes to meet them. They both wore identical clothes, a frock coat reaching mid-thigh. The color must have been forest green, but the stiff linen had degraded to some mossy tone. It resembled a soldier's uniform. Though they dressed alike, the stocky one with the triangular beard was older and looked meaner. His pointed face reminded her of a ferret.
"Hilaria, please bring refreshments," Anne said, hiding her nervousness under a polite facade.
Without invitation, the leader sprawled on the armchair. Crossing his leg, he caressed the tip of his beard and eyed her from slippers to mantilla. The not-so-subtle leer made her skin crawl.
The other kept a soldiering stance behind the bearded one, looking straight ahead. His face was clean-shaven, and the skin above his collar had an angry slash. Younger, perhaps her age, he seemed to take his job quite seriously, whatever that job was.
Perspiration trickled down her spine. The air was stiff, with all windows closed and the gas lamps burning.
Anne touched her lips with a kerchief. "May I help you?"
"We are looking for a criminal, Pedro Daun. Have you heard of him?"
She perked up. "I know no criminals, sir."
"The man is highly dangerous." He trailed shining eyes through the Rubens and the silverware, no doubt accessing their value. "I'll have to search the house. For your safety, of course."
"But sir, two men wandering a widow's home? I may be foreign, but I'm certain this isn't proper. Even here in the Peninsula."
"We are under His Majesty's orders. The count's ship was spotted in the bay. We have the king's authorization to inspect the houses from the right margin of the Tagus to Carcavelos beach." He hardened his face. "So, if you—"
A cough came from upstairs, a tremendous, dog-like cough.
Anne grimaced. "Do forgive my poor mother. We came for the medicinal baths, but instead of sunshine, I'm afraid the dear soul contracted a terrible sickness."
A moan started then, followed by some straining, long and suffered.
The leader shifted in the chair. "What's wrong with her?"
