Page 34 of The Truth About Myths
For once, Isabel had made him speechless. She lifted a brow. "Well?"
He shook his head and averted his eyes. Was there a blush on his cheeks? "I came to… You didn't show up at the pier today. Some worried you were unwell."
"As you can see, I'm in excellent health."
"Are you, though? All the guests embarked on the yacht this morning. When Dolly boarded alone..."
Everyone except her? And no one thought to invite her. Of course, who would want a bore like her to ruin their fun? Mortification sank into her chest, robbing her of air. "How convenient. I hope they enjoy themselves then." For the first time since he had invaded her privacy, she felt naked in his presence. Isabel tightened the knot of her robe, her fingers clumsy.
Henrique advanced in her direction, examining her with his head cocked to the side. Isabel fought the urge to turn from the sarcasm he would no doubt inflict and stiffened her spine. Let him mock her. She wouldn't cower before him.
He came closer still and cupped her face. His palm rasped her skin, surprisingly warm. His nearness ignited the invisible tendrils, but today they were different. Not only did they make her immobile, but they singed her. When she lifted her eyes to his, Isabel's breath caught in her throat. His mask of cheerfulness had slipped to show the man beneath, and it disarmed her. He brushed his thumb over the corner of her lip, and tingles caused a riot in her chest. Isabel inhaled to speak, to say he shouldn't touch her thus, but her mouth wouldn't obey.
"I thought Rafaela had invited you."
So they were on a first-name basis already? Isabel jerked away from him, and her hands clenched, crunching Dolly's letter.
He perked up at the sound. "What do you have there?"
"Nothing." Under no circumstances could he see the cursed letter.
"Isa, Isa… What secrets do you hide?" His husky voice made the hairs on her arms stand on end.
"You have overstayed your welcome."
"But why? I'm getting comfortable." His lips tugged up, and he prowled closer. "I would rule out a love note. Is it perchance a political conspiracy?"
"Don't be ridiculous." She backed away from his advances until she stumbled on the escritoire.
A second sheet dropped from the tabletop and landed on the carpet between them. Why had she not checked for more correspondence? Isabel dove for the paper. The infuriating man launched himself forward. She expected him to go straight for the damning letter, but he tackled her. Panting, she tried to free herself, but he tightened his grip. After catching the paper with his left hand, he extended his arm above her reach.
In her struggle, the robe had gaped open. He stared at her decolletage, blatant appreciation heating his gaze. Cheeks flaming, Isabel shook herself from his hold and refastened the sash.
While he read the letter, Isabel contracted her shoulders, trying to disappear from his sight before he made sense of Dolly's handwriting. What kind of disparaging comments and complaints the girl had written this time?
"Attending the races, swimming with my new bathing gown, riding a bicycle. What is this? A to-do list?" He studied her with narrowed eyes.
Isabel grabbed it from his hand and breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed the lack of a signature. "Er… Why, I made this list to plan my day here in Comillas, but as you said, Dolly and Rafaela left on the yacht, and I am all alone."
"Are you sure you wrote this?"
"Can't you recognize my handwriting?" Fluttering her eyelids, she sustained his probing gaze.
He lifted his brows and circled her slowly. "I think the author has a shorter vocabulary."
"You are absolutely mistaken, sir."
He paused too close and leaned forward to speak in her ear. "Prove it."
"You want me to write a few words for you?" Isabel shivered and rubbed her arms, her voice coming out too breathless for her own taste. "So you can compare our handwriting? Even you must admit it is extreme—"
"No need. A child could copy such…" He scrunched his face, pointing his chin to the letter. "Markings. Today is your lucky day." He made a flourish with his right hand and bowed. "I'm ready to squire my Dom Quixote to all her earthly desires."
Isabel gasped. "I'm in no need of a Sancho Panza."
He chuckled. "Not Sancho. I'll be your handsome and more experienced knight."
She scoffed. "You, a knight? More likely a knave—"
