And you think I would marry you?’ ‘Why not? I am unworthy, eh? Because I am a servant. ’ A scowl crossed the lady’s face. Lucia confined herself to her quarters, wondering when they would flee to the country as so many other houses had done. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. Yield up the babe, and I pledge my word you shall remain unmolested. ” She groaned aloud and bowed her forehead to her knees. Withdrawing another bolt, and unhooking a chain suspended from the top of the casement, Jonathan pushed the iron framework outwards. “Please let me drive you home.
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