Chapter 29

A moment later he felt a gentle touch, a fingertip possibly, against his back, right on one of the lash-marks, increasing the pain so that he groaned.

“Sorry,” said a voice. “Applying salve. It has anesthetic properties—don’t tell anyone—so it should help in a minute or so.”

Through the pain, Carl registered astonishment.

“Armand?”

“Yes. You passed out during the lashes.”

Carl took a deep breath, wincing as the skin of his back protested the movement, and then sighed. Armand’s presence, he decided, was a balm stronger than the salve.

“I missed you,” he said quietly.

The finger, which was still applying salve, paused.

“I thought,” said Armand, “that you are lovers with that marine you saved.”

“No. I’m not.”

“But there were—feelings—”

“Sure. But that’s all.”

Another pause.

“I saw the man. He was a—fine specimen.”