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“That story I told you as we arrived? About the man who killed the former master of this castle and raped his wife? Did you think it a fairy tale? No, his blood runs in my veins. I was bred to do what I am doing now. Don't fault the viper for striking. It's what snakes do." Her lips trembled, but her eyes were dry, as if she'd already given up hope of persuading him and he did not mourn at all. Not at all. "The blood of that woman who was raped is in your veins, too, isn't it?" Oh, she knew where to hit. "Naturally. But I think it's less apparent, don't you? The story says she was dark and small." She shook her head. "So all that talk of right and wrong- that doesn't matter in the end to you at all?" He hesitated- just for the smallest fraction of a second- because he had always found the question of right and wrong rather fascinating. But then he smiled at her. "Only in the abstract.” — Elizabeth Hoyt