‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. The remainder of dinner was surreal and stilted. She helped Jack to sit down, and dragged the jacket off him, lifting his shirt to expose the gash that had sliced across his side. Grasping one of chairs about the little table, he drew it forward and sat astride it, in a fashion as insolent as it was unexpected. She shuddered. Spurlock remained where he was until the sail became an infinitesimal speck in the distance. ’ She gestured at his hand, on which Roding’s makeshift bandage had been replaced by a more efficient one. “This is a charming place, and I have enjoyed the rest. No, none at all. I think it inadvisable—I don’t want an intimacy to spring up between you and a man of that type.
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