If you are not careful, soon you will have men locking themselves in dungeons so that you can rescue them.

I will sit here but an hour or two, then leave." I yawn. "So very long as that?" When he answers, there is a wry note in his voice. "I do have my reputation to protect.

You are not my nursemaid. Remember, I am rescuing you.

I am beginning to think that love itself is never wrong. It is what love can drive people to do that is the problem.

It takes a surprising amount of courage to place one's hand into an unseen area when your mind is thinking about vermin.

Are men truly such idiots that they cannot resist two orbs of flesh?

It is this kindness of his that unsettles me most. I can dodge a blow or block a knife. I am impervious to poison and know a dozen ways to escape a chokehold or garrote wire. But kindness? I do not know how to defend against that.