” He played it cool, but he had seen it in her face. Anna was not “Alcide” of the “Ambassador’s,” whose subtly demure smile and piquant glances had called him to her side from the moment of their first meeting. She posed herself before her mirror and surveyed herself with gravely thoughtful, gravely critical, and yet admiring eyes. She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. Deny me, if you please. He was a good foster dad that had never so much as leered at her, not even once. No matter.
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