Page 57 of The Truth About Myths
She drew in a raspy breath. "And what is the female to do? Accept their loutish behavior? Swallow her pride and watch their philandering?"
"Can't she enjoy the same? Must she want more?"
Some principles she could never, ever relinquish. Fidelity topped the list. Their eyes met for an uncomfortable moment. His gaze wavered, almost pleading with her to let the matter go. But she wouldn't.
"How? If it is not in her nature?" she whispered.
His expression softened, unguarded for a change. His eyes shimmered, the blue of a blurred lake. If she stared at it a minute more, the water would settle, and she could see into its depths.
But then the surface rippled.
Henrique removed his hand, and his façade returned, the shutters closing and shifting, pulling the corners of his mouth and his eyes until his expression assumed the mask of rakish rapport.
"Are we still talking about ducks?" He touched her cheek.
Oh, his touch... a single brush of skin against skin and yet so sweeping. Isabel gripped her skirts, her heavy breathing straining her corset. She should get away from him. She desperately needed to get away from him. But her body became an unresponsive picketer.
"Nature is so efficient. It built us to avoid pain and embrace pleasure." He took her hand and traced the lines over her palm. A current passed through them, so strong it had a scent and a color, undoubtedly a color. Red—its color was red.
"Pleasure?"
"The drive to pursue pleasure is intense. It makes us want to do things."
"What things?"
He traced the corner of her lip, then brought his mouth close to her ear. "You have a constellation of freckles here, right atop the bridge of your nose. I want to study them, name them, and then hunt for strays down the column of your neck."
Isabel stopped breathing. The sounds outside faded until there was only them, the rain and wet earth, and his touch.
"Do you want it, Isabel?"
If she wanted it? Her heart pounded with the force of her want. But he offered pleasure, not himself. To give in to him was to relinquish all she held dear.
Shutting her eyes, she took a fortifying breath. "Is it safe to return?"
He exhaled, and his hand fell to his side. "Probably."
Isabel moved away from him, intending to stand, but a snap brought her back to a seated position, bumping her head on the wood. Stiffening, she tried to move her neck. Her hair was entangled. Isabel lifted her arm to inspect the cause, but her taffeta bodice would not allow her to reach beyond her ear.
She groaned. "I'm stuck."
Henrique cleaned the mud from his trousers, his back to her. "I know… if you only let go of the unreasonable beliefs—"
"I'm literally stuck. My hair. Something is fastening it to the planks.
He crouched by her side. "Bend your torso forward."
She did and flinched at the strain on her sensitive scalp.
"Don't move. Damn it, I can't see in this light." He flattened himself against the wall, his shoulder and face glued to the wooden slabs.
Isabel stood still, tears of pain coursing down her cheeks. Looking straight ahead, she tried to ignore him as he prodded and tugged behind her.
"It's a twitch-up snare. Two forked pieces of wood. The first is hammered into the soil, and the other is attached to the cordage near the noose. When an animal pulls, the twig is dislodged, flinging the sapling to its unbent position. Now it is holding its more valuable bounty. A princess's hair." He dried her tears with a handkerchief and then did something with the twigs that relieved the pressure. "Do you think the hunter will be overjoyed?"
She sniffed. "Can you remove it?"
He let go and stared at her, his brows furrowed. "With all due respect to your person, I must climb atop you."
