Page 52 of The Truth About Myths
Henrique fisted his hands, a breath away from punching the pompous prince. A need to crush Alfonso's face and then kiss Isabel, claiming her in front of the audience, burst inside him, as primal as hunger, thirst, pain, and desire. The violent thoughts staggered him. What was he doing?
Panting, Henrique stepped back.
This whole patriotism had climbed into his head. He hadn’t come all this way north to despoil his best friend's sister, his monarch, for Christ's sake.
After a brief handshake, the prince offered his arm to Isabel. "Are you still up for our outing?"
She hesitated, searching Henrique's gaze, a shy question hidden in its depths.
"You go ahead. I promised Dio to trounce him at whist."
Hurt flickered in her expression, or he had imagined it. Isabel didn't spare him a second glance. She smiled at Alfonso, and the prudish princess and the pompous prince walked out of his sight.
Chapter 16
“Spain is a bottle of beer, and I am the cork; when that comes out, all the liquid inside will escape, God knows in what direction.” King Ferdinand VII
Isabelcrossedtheformalgarden and exited to a dry, rocky outcrop behind the castle. How quickly Henrique had dismissed her. Why had she fooled herself into expecting more from him? He had stayed for the entertainment. Woe to those who wanted more from him than fleeting pleasures.
Alfonso exhaled heavily. "I'm ashamed now… I've never been beaten so soundly at tennis. But this Henrique, he is quite good. Have you known him for long?"
"I met him on the day of the journey to Comillas. He is one of Luis's trusted friends." Debauchery cronies more likely.
"He seems like an odd option to accompany anInfantaof Portugal."
Isabel frowned. She could speak badly of Henrique but wouldn't allow anyone to do the same. "Viscount Penafiel was my brother's choice, and I bow to my king's wishes."
"Your brother should have sent a royal. We have a duty given to us by God to rule, and it leaves the relationship biased. It is not fair to any of the parts. We must keep our distance from the rest of the subjects."
No! She would tear apart any barrier between Henrique and herself. Isabel sucked in a breath, her hand instinctively moving to cover her mouth. Where had such riotous thoughts sprung from? If she had any sense, she should be the one erecting those walls. "You are right, of course," she forced herself to say, her voice a dejected whisper.
They walked in silence. Isabel could not muster the will to ask him about his plans. A flock of shallows flew from cork tree to cork tree. The fluffy beings had the freedom of wings but couldn't escape each other.
Sophie and two of the duke's footmen trailed behind them. Her own guards had returned to Lisbon yesterday. Canastra bade them leave in a closed coach as the leader fell ill with the Typhus. She hoped they would recover. Sophie didn’t trust their new bodyguard, that's for sure. ... Still, Isabel had no reason to worry about her safety. Canastra guarded his property well.
"Are you all right?" Alfonso asked.
"I'm just eager to see your surprise." The lie came out lamely, and she stifled a groan. "I'm glad you saved me from Rafaela's bullfight. I take it the sport isn't to your liking?"
He grimaced, and a sallow smile curved down his lips. "Canastra fears the Guardia Civil will be there. They are loyal to Aosta."
Isabel had read about the fearsome military police. They were both revered for keeping order and reviled for being too vicious in keeping such order. How dreadful to fear walking freely in one's own country. She touched his arm. "I'm sorry."
He dismissed the sadness like a puppy shakes water drops. "To be Spanish and not loveTouradas? What kind ofsinvergüenzado you take me for?"
"Now you will tell me bullfighting is a matter ofpundonoras well?"
"Not quite. Atorerowithoutpundonoris not atorero, of course… ButToradasare Spain, and Spain isToradas."
"I won't believe such a lovely country to be the same as the violent sport."
He placed a hand over his chest. "One day, Isabel de Orleans… I will make you like bullfighting."
Isabel caught a daisy in her hand. "I doubt it."
“You are looking at this from the wrong angle. Spain's story is linked to bullfighting in ways as ancient as the land." He peered at her briefly, and then his eyes lit up. "Have you been to the Jupiter temple close to the beach?"
"What does a ruin have to do with bullfighting?"
