She softened her tone and scrambled for the right words. " With no little effort—for the right words had a way of tumbling back out of reach—he marshalled his phrases, and as he uttered them, closed his eyes to lessen the possibility of a break. A handy knife, and a good tot of something sharp to clean out the wound. She thought of them as fools, but had been sorry to see them go. ‘Jacques?’ she called. “I’d run away with you in a heartbeat. Planting his knee against her side, he pulled her towards him with one hand, while with the other he sought his knife.
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