She imagined descending the stairs, hearing Mike’s uproarious laughter as she peeked around a vacant corner with a lump in her throat. She slipped past the servants, her soft roe-skin shoes unheard on the old stone. "Fool!" he cried, "do you think I wouldn't have secured you before this if I hadn't some motive for my forbearance?" "And that motive is fear," replied Jack contemptuously. “Are you cold?” He asked her, cocking his head to one side like a puppy, so close that the heat of his words warmed her cheek.
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