She spent many days in the castle alone as he busied himself with his alchemy, or traveled to Florence to visit his remaining political connections. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come. Her life hangs upon a thread, and this may snap it. Her amusement fled and she stared at him, as a slow thump began beating at her breast. \"I'll have to ask Cathy, you know my foster mother? I have not been asked on a date before. Occasionally he relit his pipe. Part 8 And as she sat on her bed that night, musing and half-undressed, she began to run one hand down her arm and scrutinize the soft flow of muscle under her skin.
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