"The lash cuts to the bone. ‘But—’ ‘Nothing at all for you to worry your head over,’ said the captain, moving to try and usher her forth. To even presume a lustful thought about her was to ask for one’s own death. John, he was between me and the door. “I’ll get a towel. ’ ‘Never mind the comtesse,’ adjured Prudence. In the artificial light her skin had the tint and lustre of a yellow pearl. Oh, John. ‘As I said, a mistake. It was an easy one to smell early on, Sebastian had taught her: anything reproductive. I seed he was one,—and a sharp un, too,—at a glance. She did not resist him, she could not.
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