Her foot rests on his thigh, and he torments himself by running his fingers around her anklebones but not letting himself go farther. The sight of her... foot on his thigh, so close but not close enough, not letting himself touch her beautiful foot, was driving him wild. Reaching for her left leg, he feels his way down that one too, less patiently. When he reaches her ankle, he can't help himself, and holding her foot up, rubs her sole against his cheek. Eyes closed, he loves the feel of her arch. Her chat with Arrian before the match had removed the feeling of fear she was having. She knew he was happy about the baby. Their baby was a piece of her and a piece of him.She watched as Arrian fought this kid and realized that if Arrian had not been holding back, this kid would have lost long ago.Arrian had won the weapons exhibition, but now it was time for hand-to-hand combat. After bowing to the officials and each other, they took their stances.Greg was upset; this guy had damaged his. “Catholics.” She spat the word loud enough that the group scuttled away, their feet kicking up little clouds of dust. “Would you hate me so if I were Catholic?” Meggi enquired. “Meggi! Do not say such a thing! It is bad enough that you are Welsh. Would it be that you were Catholic, we would not be friends.” The words hurt as though Meggi’s heart itself had been stitched. She knew that Anne was a good person deep down; it just seemed that the good had been buried more deeply since she had. Georgio thought his wife was a genius, and having pretty girls around him all day had put a spring back into his step. Nina's only job now was co-ordinating the girls and had noted that business almost doubles when the occasional girl dressed down a bit. Damian suggested to her to supply less than really proper uniforms for them all, show some abbreviated bust line, they should have the shop and girl's name embroided onto, or even around, a breast or each breast, and they would be therefore tax.