Irene nodded. The candlelight gave luster to her dark hair and revealed the contours of her high, firm breasts.
Ransome's pulse speeded up just looking at her. Then he saw that she was regarding him as if he were something crawling in damp stone, and there was bitterness in him.
"There are things that even Mytor doesn't know, even omniscient Mytor—"
He checked himself.
"Well?"
"Nothing."
"You were going to tell me about how you are really a very honorable man. Why don't you? You have an hour before it will be time to betray the woman from the Hawk of Darion."
Ransome shrugged, and his voice returned her mockery.
"If I told you that I had been an acolyte in the Temple of the Dark One, and that I was condemned to death for blasphemy, committed for love of a woman, would you like me better?"
"I might."