She blushed prettily, and in a moment regained command of her tongue. ‘I trust you were not altogether disgusted when I kissed you. His noble Florentine roots went back a thousand years, to the days of grand Rome herself. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. He laughed suddenly, and released her. His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. "Well," growled Blueskin, "you've had my offer. “If it is a choice between the two,” she answered, “I must be Annabel Pellissier. He couldn't be in better hands than those in which he has placed himself.
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