Page 22 of The Truth About Myths
"It is not difficult to govern. All one has to do is not wish to appear wiser than the laws, nor richer than the country, nor more noble than the citizen." Queen Maria II of Portugal
"MyLady,yourentourageawaits."
Henrique's grave voice startled Isabel, and she gripped the railings. What would she see in his eyes this morning? The tender understanding they shared in the garden? Or mockery? She cared not for how they treated each other before last night's incident. The veiled insults, the need to keep her guard up, the fluttery feeling inside her chest every time he came near. It would be exhausting to spend the summer in opposing trenchers.
They had different points of view, it was true. But two parties could coexist without constant altercations. She had selected a medal from her jewelry box—the Viana's heart—as a peace offering. Ready for a unilateral compromise, she clutched the small parcel.
Now, facing him in the crowded hotel lobby, her grand idea, the perfect way to appreciate his bravery and seal their newfound friendship, made her cheeks burn and her neck prickle.
She met his eyes, searching for something… What? He was back in the skin of an aristocrat-about-town—well shaved, hair combed, his light grey morning coat matching his striped trousers. When she found no traces of the disheveled hero who had saved her last night, Isabel stuffed the velvet pouch in her jacket's pocket.
He had renewed his invitation for her to ride with him. Perhaps the right moment to give him the medal would present itself later. "Will you show me this mare you’ve been bragging about?"
"I'm waiting for your pleasure." He gazed at her expectantly, as if he too wondered where they stood, and offered his arm.
He escorted her to the hotel courtyard. Word had come out of her true identity, and people leaned over their windows and porches, watching the liveried servants and the lacquered carriages lining the street. The cheers and smiles on her subjects' faces warmed her heart. Isabel waved graciously while Henrique waited patiently. It took fifteen minutes for them to cross to the two saddled horses waiting behind her coach.
"Is it always like this?" He glanced beyond his shoulder, where the crowd still cheered.
"Not always. But, yes, whenever I'm recognized."
"Doesn't it bother you?"
"I'm a princess. Women look up to me as an example of moral conduct. It is my duty to inspire." She took pride in being an asset to the Royal Family.
"And you shape your life around this duty?" He studied her, his head tilted to the side.
For the first time, she felt in the presence of a scientist, not a rake. It gave her a fuzzy feeling in her stomach, not at all unpleasant. That's what his experiments must feel like—not judged but analyzed.
She forced herself to respond truthfully. "It is my obligation, and serving my country makes me happy."
His lip lifted, flashing a dimple. "Aren't you a patriotic princess?"
"At least of this crime, I cannot plead innocence. I've traveled the world, but this… this is home. Don't you love our land?"
"They have rugged cliffs in other places, too." He looked away, and the dimple vanished.
Other places? None of them as majestic, for sure. Isabel was about to admonish his lack of love for Portugal but swallowed her words. His neck and shoulders were stiff. She wouldn’t start another conflict.
A neigh from the waiting steeds pulled him out of his musings.
He exhaled and steered her toward the horses. "This is Dulcinea."
Isabel chuckled. "Don Quixote's dream lady? So this makes your horse the intrepid Rocinante?"
Henrique patted the stallion's chestnut coat, a grin crinkling the corners of his eyes. "You wound this steed with such dastardly a name. Can't you see he would put the knight-errant's nag to shame? This, my lovely princess, is Incitatus."
Isabel feigned shock. "Caligula's horse? Careful, sir, beasts show their owner's true character."
"Caligula so loved his horse, he made him a senator of Rome." He lifted his brows. "Madness runs deeply in royalty."
"That's hardly fair. As a scientist, you should know it was never proven madness is more frequent among royal families than common folk."
He studied her, his eyes glinting. "Has anyone ever said you have a fetching logical mind?"
She was rarely admired for her intellect and batted her eyelashes playfully to conceal her reaction. "Cease, sir. You will make me vain with your flirtation."
"When common people go mad, they are locked in sanatoriums. When royalty goes soft in the head, they run rampant, impaling their enemies, planning a winter invasion of Russia, or living to please others. Now, enough dawdling. We better move if we are to reach Tavora before nightfall." He bent, linking his fingers, and gave her a suggestive look.
