Page 29 of The Truth About Myths
Good God, did she believe this nonsense? What should people save themselves for? The grave? Stimulating the senses, living in the present, was the only fleeting happiness human beings could enjoy.
Eating, sleeping, and having sex felt wonderful because it ensured life's continuation. Fighting against it was unnatural, a testament to her twisted beliefs.
Henrique searched the room until he found a tray brimming with Spanish treats. He caught abuñuelo, the fritter dripping with powdery sugar.
Isabel watched his movements, her gaze alert.
Henrique lifted his brows and bit into the pastry. Closing his eyes, he threw back his head as the sweet melted in his mouth.
Even before he opened his eyelids, he could feel Isabel's stare.
"Want some?" he asked, sprawling by her side.
She tried to roll away from him, but his weight trapped her underneath the counterpane.
Isabel shook herself like a little bird after a bath. "No, I—"
Henrique painted her lips with powdery sugar. A pink tongue came out to lick the sweetness.
Breathing heavily, he broke the pastry in two and pushed it under her nose. She gave a dainty bite. A little mewling escaped her throat.
Her eyes widened, and startled, she covered her mouth as if ashamed of her pleasure.
He hated her restraint. Her warped worldviews would make the Inquisition proud. "You just indulged in sugar, Princess. Ready to lose your morals? Invade another country?" He clasped her delicate wrist and traced her palm. "Kill with your bare little hands? Or worse, debauch an unsuspecting male? If it's the latter, don't forget this dutiful subject."
If a pinch of sugar had such power, what would happen if he fed her a bucket?
"I don't think you need my help with debauchery. But I'll know who to assign if I ever want a volunteer for the gibbet." She pulled away from his touch.
A fire-breathing hoyden lived underneath her stiff, perfect carapace. How he was tempted to see her out of it, even if it burned him.
Henrique clicked his tongue. "Hateful words for a prim princess. Have you no royal restraint?"
When she opened her mouth, no doubt to shoot an angry retort, Henrique fed her the second half of the pastry. She chewed it murderously, her gaze never leaving his face, and he cringed to think what part of his body she imagined destroying inside those delectable lips.
A knock on the door startled them both.
Sophie entered, carrying a tray.
Henrique pulled away from the bed. "You better eat every crumb, or I will mouth feed you like a spoiled baby."
"I guess I should thank you for your assistance. I hope you don't expect a medal. I save those to people who do not abandon their country."
She could throw the damn medal into the garbage for all he cared. He shut the door and leaned his forehead against it, panting.
A medal? He deserved sainthood.
Even Hercules would have a hard time dealing with her. She was Luis’ problem, not his. What was it to him if she wanted to live inside her carapace? He needed a plan to take her back to Lisbon. Then would he be free of her haunting green eyes.
Henrique selected an arrow from the makeshift table. The duke's guests came out to enjoy the morning sun on the lawn. All except the princess. Isabel no doubt campaigned against outdoor games. Who knew what depravities could happen? One risked tossing a ball and his clothes during the same match or dirtying his hands and his conscience. She must be solving the country's problems, armed with her exquisite brain and an embroidery needle.
The Duchess of Canastra strung her bow and loosed an arrow. The shaft flew ten feet and dropped onto the lawn, adding to the dozen already littering the grass. "So, what is in England? A sophisticated aristocrat? A lovely debutant?"
Henrique grunted. There would be several women and zero judgmental princesses with inquisitive green eyes and too-kissable cherry lips, whose naïve patriotic ramblings could vanquish all mills in the world. Henrique pulled the bow's string. The arrow flew in a perfect trajectory and hit the circle painted on the oak's trunk. "A chair at the university."
"I thought we had those in Coimbra."
Why did people find it so hard to believe he wanted to leave? "I won't bore you with the details. Science isn't run on good intentions. I need investments and long-term commitment." And peers who recognized his profession as an honorable pursuit.
