Page 56 of The Truth About Myths
They hurried across fallen logs, their steps skittering over the muddy ground. When they arrived at a Roman ruin, the crumbling columns jutting out from the soil, Henrique stopped and pulled her into a small wooden structure. The three-walled enclosure had only a partial roof. The rickety planks stood up thanks to inertia and a bush of vines with purple flowers.
Henrique deposited her on the bare ground and huddled by her side. His chest heaved with the force of his breaths.
Rain fell on a steady curtain by their feet, lifting mud and the scent of wet earth. Perspiration plastered her bodice over her breasts, and she hugged her knees to keep from sogging her boots.
"What is this place?"
"It's a blind. Hunters use it to shoot flyaways."
Isabel shuddered. "Flyaways? They seemed more like fly-right-at-you to me."
He took a heavy breath and groaned, the sound similar to a ship's hull braving a storm. Isabel gasped, her concern constricting her throat. Had he sustained any injuries during their escape?
He shook, indeed, but not in pain, the blackguard.
"Are you laughing?"
Henrique tilted his head back and howled, his mouth wide open, hands holding ribs that jutted out with the force of his guffaws. It wasn't the rake's sneer, the peers' polite chuckle, paired with his dark humor and double entendres, but a full belly laugh. Henrique Penafiel was an ugly laugher, and it made him even more beautiful to her.
He brushed away tears of mirth. "God, have you seen them? Fending off the fowl as if hellhounds were on their heels?"
"Why were the ducks misbehaving? They acted as if possessed by demons."
"Those were north shovelers. One of the few birds with the ability to team up. Flocks of them swim in circles to stir up food. We must have interrupted their courting season."
"Courting? You must be joking."
"Some animals have more rational methods of procreating than their human counterparts." He lifted his brows in a challenge. "They follow instinct instead of coating themselves in pointless rituals and expectations."
Expectations? Here he went again. Why had she given him ammunition to flaunt his ridiculous ideas? "Oh, let's all lose our well-bred façades and give vent to our, how do you put it? Yes, animal spirits. I guess humankind will revert to perfectly natural behaviors—braying, cackling, wallowing in the mud, howling to the moon…"
He considered the matter, and she hoisted up her chin in smug satisfaction over his loss of words.
But then his eyes narrowed, and he shrugged. "I don't know about mud, but braying and mewling… definitely possible. Howling to the moon? It depends on many variables, the position, the partner, the stamina… But I'm game if you are."
The indecent images flitted through her mind, and a fire spread from her belly to her core. Still, just as it ignited, it burned out, and a gloomy feeling invaded her chest. "Do you ever take anything seriously?"
As the ducks hovered over their heads, Isabel lowered her chin to her knees and shut her eyes. Cicadas called from somewhere behind the planks. The little creatures should be comfortable flying by now, shouldn't they?
The air shifted by her side. Her body knew Henrique was nearer. How unnerving. Her body shouldn't know more than her mind. A recipe for disaster. If it knew more, it would soon want more, and bodily cravings were dangerous.
He inhaled audibly, and then she felt a whimsical caress on her cheek.
"Can I tell you a secret?"
She stayed silent because she craved knowing all his secrets, and while his knee grazed her forearm, she couldn't be expected to form any words.
"I hate hunting. The senseless killing, the black powder and blood, the noises. I hate it."
"I hate drakes," she blurted out and cringed, wondering why her mouth was betraying her.
He eyed her with interest, the scientist with a new object. Would he put her in his breast pocket too?
Shielded by the blind, the rain acting like a drapery, Isabel exhaled, and the subject she had carried for so long climbed to the surface, pulling itself out from the secret garden's shadows. "I hate their mating. I hate how they treat the females."
The words hovered between them, waiting to bite whoever spoke first. She hiked up her chin, daring him to mock her.
"Monogamy is not a trait they possess. It's not in their nature." His voice was tender, filled with warmth.
