“You must have been reading the right books,” said the Saint.
“Did he say ‘Templar’?” Lissa asked.
The door opened then, and Esther came in. Simon recognised her by her face, a perfect oval set with warm brown eyes and broken by a red mouth that always seemed to be whispering “ If we were alone... ” A softly waved mane the color of smoked chestnuts framed the face in a dark dreamy cloud. The rest of her was not quite so easily identifiable, for she had wrapped it in a loose blue robe that left a little scope for speculation. Not too much, for the lapels only managed to meet at her waist, and just a little below that the folds shrank away from the impudent obtrusion of a shapely thigh.
“A fine thing,” she said. “Walking in on me when I didn’t have a stitch on.”
“I bet you loved it,” Ginny said, cheating a black ten out of the bottom of the pack and slipping it on to a red jack.
“Do we get introduced?” said Esther.
“Meet Miss Swinburne,” said Freddie. “Mr Templar. Now you know everybody. I want you to feel at home. My name’s Freddie. We’re going to call you Simon. All right?”
“All right,” said the Saint.
“Then we’re all at home,” said Freddie, making his point. “We don’t have to have any formality. If any of the girls go for you, that’s all right too. We’re all pals together.”
“Me first,” said Ginny.