‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. If Ray left the house, it would be easy. “Oh. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. Outside in the hall he paused and thoughtfully stroked his smooth blue chin. Trodger might not need his hair dressed, but the flagon of ale that each soldier quaffed would be welcome—once his captain had departed, thought Roding cynically. “You must pack for me.
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