“Why did you let her take the head off London Bridge?"Cromwell:"You know me, Stephen. The fluid of benevolence flows through my veins and sometimes overspills.”

“Why couldn't you let me have it? Why did you have to take it? Why did you always take everything?”

“Why what,my lord?"She watched him look away and stare absentmindedly at the fire, but he refused to let go of her arm. She waited, enjoying the small pleasure of his touch,but after a moment, asked again. "Why what, my lord?"Ranulf didn't move,but in a low voice answered, "Pick one.Why did you return to Hunswick when you thought I was in danger? Why are you still here? Why did you stay with me last night? Why are you not frightened of my appearance when so many are?" Then his head swiveled around so his gaze could lock with hers. "But mostly I want to know why you kissed me.”

“Why did you choose to save me?”“I could not let you die.” He placed the plate and glass on the kitchen counter.“But you have let goodness knows how many people die. Why me?”“You made me...” He leaned against the counter and looked at her. “You made me…feel.”

“imagine the ton would leap from London Bridge if the marquess did it first. Mind you, he’d land on a cart carrying a feather mattress when he did it, whilst the rest of London would splatter.”

“Jump." My mother's voice popped into my head; "Would youjump off a bridge if so-and-so asked you too?”