“Why don’t you purchase an Italian dictionary? I will assume the expense.”“I have one,” she said, “but I don’t think it’s very good. Half the words are missing.”“Half?”“Well, some,” she amended. “But truly, that’s not the problem.”He blinked, waiting for her to continue.She did. Of course. “I don’t think Italian is the author’s native tongue,” she said.“The author of the dictionary?” he queried.“Yes. It’s not terribly idiomatic.”

“This had occurred to me. But for no reason I can dignify with anything higher than the authority of a two-hundred-year-old gut I didn’t buy it. “It’s possible,” I said. “Of course it’s possible.” “But you don’t think so” “No. I’m not sure why.” Another silence, her intelligence working. Then a very slight smile. “It’s because it would be less romantic,” she said.”

“Do you think ladies’ eyebrows can communicate as well?” she asked.“No, they don’t have sufficient thicketry,” he said with authority.“Thicketry?”“Yes, that is the official term.”

“I don’t care about anything but keeping her alive. If it’s a child she wants, she can have it. She can have half a dozen babies. Anything she wants. She can have puppies, if that’s what it takes.”

“It’s called Two and a Half Men,” Dermot was telling his guest.“I understand,” Bellenos said. “Because the two brothers are grown, and the son isn’t.”“I think so,” Dermot said. “Don’t you think the son is useless?”“The half? Yes. At home, we’d eat him,” Bellenos said.”

“Varian cringed as Merewyn faced him. If he looked half as bad as he suspected, he wouldn’thave blamed her had she run for the door. “You don’t have to do this.” She stepped into his arms. “Yes, Varian, I do.” She brushed the matted hair back from his face. “I don’t care what you look like. It’s you I love, not your looks. Your humor, your kindness, even that little snuffle snore you make when you sleep.” “I don’t snore.” She laughed. “Yes, you do.” And with that she pulled his lips to hers.”