“I stole you, among others, from the streets of God’s birthplace. I forced you to work as a slave. Imprisoned, mistreated and starved you and your companion. To top it off, I am in the process of selling your life to the highest bidder. Why would you trust me?”

“I will not marry Ashton. However bound by honor to do so, I will not marry Ashton. I will not marry, ever!” “Why not?”“Because I love you, you idiot!”

“My name, sir, is Virgilia Wessex. I am a Sunday school teacher from Sussex, England, and I have given you no leave to address me as anything.”His mouth seemed to almost smile, but if so, he caught it just on the brink and decided against it. “Well, I’ve just given the gent who found you first an obscene amount of money to address you however I please… Gillia.”

“Somehow, I did not finger you for a treasure-hunter.”“Oh, but I am,” without shame. “Her name is Titianni Aziz.”

“Therefore, she hummed the provincial lullaby she had learned from the officers’ children in the English Quarter of Jerusalem, and watched in fascination while the savage radical’s eyes misted over with tears. For an instant, the prison bars melted away, and she felt God’s presence—for the first time since their imprisonment. She was not a captive, and this man was not her captor. Indeed, they were both merely God’s children.”

“I know I am flaky, I accept that—and I know, as well, that I can mangle the good king’s English like no one else in my or the next ten governesses’ acquaintances, but that will not prevent me from speaking! I may not be as wise as you in the ways of the world, I may not have wounds that run as deeply or scars to wear upon my chest like medals of valor, but at least I don’t retreat and hide the moment a soul comes within reach of my fingers!”

“Southern gentleman,” he said aside to him in Arabic. “Do you wish for me to continue this for you?”Caine’s temper shifted to a low simmer in his chest. “Your way takes too long.”“Ma’aleyk, and your way hurts my ears,” he argued.”