She was no longer certain that she desired an Englishman, if she must judge of one in particular. “You’re not a virgin, are you?” It was as much an accusation as a question. "Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manacled wrists; "they were put on by my uncle's command. ” He smiled, and she felt love for him in that moment as the smile lit up his ebony eyes, eyes whose blackness seemed unfathomable. Sometimes I think you would have been much better off if you had been born in death-worshipping Egypt instead of in the Fourteenth Century.
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