When he awoke it was late in the day, and he was surprised to find Blueskin seated by his bedside, watching over him with a drawn sword on his knee, a pistol in each hand, and a blood-stained cloth bound across his brow. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. “Anything is better than this—this stifled life down here. Very intelligent, by the looks of the books she was carrying. “I want to know who you are. ‘That is what she wants, is it?’ ‘Do you blame her?’ he said stiffly. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. ” Cathy insisted. ” His arms were around her. You see, I—I am a woman worshipper.
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