She continued: "That's one reason I'm so grateful to you for saving me from the beast. Of all these thick-headed ninnies he had the thickest head. What became of him, by the way? Don't pretend innocence, Martinus. Everybody knows your guards took him into the vestibule of the church, and then he apparently vanished."
"He's safe, I hope, both from our point of view and his."
"You mean you hid him? Death would have been safer yet."
"I had reasons for not wanting him killed."
"You did? I give you fair warning that if he ever falls into my hands, I shall not have such reasons."
"Aren't you a bit hard on poor old Wittigis? He was merely trying, in his own muddle-headed way, to defend the kingdom."
"Perhaps. But after that performance in the church I hate him." The gray eyes were cold as ice. "And when I hate, I don't do it halfway."
"So I see," said Padway dryly, jarred out of the pink fog for the moment. But then Mathaswentha smiled again, all curve—some and desirable woman. "You'll stay to dinner, of course? There will only be a few people, and they'll leave early."
"Why—" There were piles of work to be done that evening. And he needed to catch up on his sleep—a chronic condition with him. "Thank you, my lady, I shall be delighted."
By his third visit to Mathaswentha, Padway was saying to himself: There's a real woman. Ravishing good looks, forceful character, keen brain. The man who gets her will have one in a million. Why shouldn't I be the one? She seems to like me. With her to back me up, there's nothing I couldn't accomplish. Of course, she is a bit bloodthirsty. You wouldn't exactly describe her as a "sweet" girl. But that's the fault of the times, not of her. She'll settle down when she has a man of her own to do her fighting for her.