The features were indistinct, but was that not a halo of white about it? And the dark shadow below, was that a cloak, or the habit of a nun? Skirting the dancing, from which he had taken a breather—not from lack of energy, but to escape the inanities of the young ladies he had partnered—Gerald made his way to a side door in the saloon and opened it. But this was important. When she awoke, the sun was high in Heaven. He was braver than her husband, who paced and cowered in the corners of the once-sunny Palazzo. A note of belligerency had crept into his tone. Lucia dismissed the rumors, as it was not likely an archbishop would renege on his duties to become her personal doctor. The blow was scarcely dealt, when, with a bound like that of a tiger, Blueskin sprang upon him. “But Julian, we don’t even know each other!” She exclaimed.
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