Page 48 of The Truth About Myths
Henrique exhaled through his mouth. "Whatever happened in the past to make you hate men, don't extend it to him." He dropped his voice as well as any hint of mockery.
She didn't hate men… She didn't hate the man standing before her, his face bronzed by gas lamps, his hair disheveled, his coat wrinkled from the search. A knot formed in her stomach, and she dropped her gaze.
He took a step closer. "I see you entertaining the prince all day. Just because Charles isn't royalty—"
"She can stay." Isabel blurted, hoping she was not making a terrible mistake. "But you must help me keep an eye on them."
He caressed her cheek. "Isa, Isa… We make a lovely team. When you are being all mellow and reasonable and not a royal shrew, that is."
Isabel danced away from him before the tendrils could work their treacherous magic. There. She had allowed her temper to get ahead of her with Priapus, but she regained control soon enough. "We should resume the search."
Applying herself to the quest, she left no rock—or image, for that matter—standing. The minutes ticked by slowly. Her fingers hurt from shuffling through Canastra's unusual possessions, her eyes gritty from reading correspondence in the dim light.
When the clock pounded midnight, Henrique cursed. "It's useless. The letters aren't here."
Isabel splayed her hands over the duke’s desk. "Why the impulse to help my brother? I thought you couldn't wait to leave the country and all its problems behind."
He had the grace to blush. "Why, er… I'm more complex than you take me for... Surprised?"
"Of course. Men are notoriously complex. In fact, science should try harder to crack open the male brain. You should volunteer."
He laughed, and his eyes glinted predatorily. "You have a very cunning tongue, Your Highness. I wonder if it is as competent when it isn’t protected by your sharp wit."
"You will never find out."
Henrique grinned. "No? You enjoyed sticking it into my mouth this morning."
Only her years of princessing restrained the urge to slap his face. "All it took was one kiss for me to move on. Is it not what happens with rakes? One taste of a woman enough to discard her? Chase the next target?"
He sucked in a breath, the sound barely audible in the hushed study, but she heard it as if it was an elephant stomping in a crystal shop. "Have you moved on, Isa?"
Isabel stepped back until her crinoline bumped the desk. "Yes. Yes, absolutely."
His eyes hardened. "Think you a pillow prince can kiss you better than I?"
Kissing Alfonso hadn't crossed her mind, but he didn't have to know that. Isabel raised her chin. "He would not dream of taking such liberties. He is a man ofpundonor."
Henrique shuddered. "That sounds painful. Will he survive?"
"Pundonoris the Spanish concept of absolute honor. A standard for high morality and a life of duty."
"I hope it isn't contagious." He shoved his hands in his pockets, and a tic appeared on his jaw.
"Even if it was, you are quite safe from contracting it."
"Isa, Isa, you should know not even a rogue can accept a slight to his character. You leave me no alternatives but to take offense. A duel is what you deserve."
"Excuse me?"
He cradled her face. Isabel clutched both his wrists, but before she broke free from his hold, he advanced. She stumbled, her spine meeting the window's cold glass. Breathing heavily, he pressed his chest against hers and melded their lips. Blatant, insistent, his tongue invaded her mouth. A torrent of warmth consumed her, and she held on to him, afraid to dissolve, leaving a puddle on the duke's carpet. His heart pounded against her, the steady drum comfortingly exciting. Pulling in a deep breath, she held it in her lungs, savoring his decadent scent. Those tendrils climbed up her legs and found their way to her hands and around her spine, binding her will to him. She stopped fighting. She couldn't leave. She didn't want to.
He loosened his grip and pressed his hips against hers. Isabel's heart pumped inebriating liquid into her veins, making her vision swim. She dug her fingers into his upper arms, relishing his sinew and strength. Bolder now, she moved her tongue against his, tasting his taste, his texture.
He groaned and pulled away from her mouth. Chanting her name, he rained kisses down her cheeks and neck, and then he stopped.
Isabel opened her eyes.
He stared at her, his brows raised to his hairline. "And?"
