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She turned her head, her mouth but a fraction from his ear “I have a pocket pistol somewhere on my person, a sheathed blade tucked into my boot and a pot of pepper in my reticule”

“Pepper?” It was obvious why she carried the condiainst the sensitive skin on his neck once more

“When thrown in a blackguard’s face it is most effective”

“I’ with a fiend in a dark alley filled hiht with you It will do nothing for ”

“The unconventional weapons are often the best” She raised a curious brow “Please tell me you’re armed too?”

“Of course” The pistol sat nicely in the pocket of his greatcoat “Though I’ve found my fist to be my most effective weapon”

“Yes,” she said ide eyes “I recall the little trick you used when on the Harwood case You put the guard to sleep by si pressure to a point on his neck”

“When one restricts the flow of blood to the brain it is possible to render a person immobile for a short ti the streets at night “An uppercut to the chin works just as well”

Daphne glanced at his hands “Is that how you came by so many scars?”

“No” The question caught hih Broken ones not so”

“But the scar on your hand was made by a blade,” she persisted “The silvery skin on your knuckle looks to be evidence of a burn”

For soe reason, he held up his hand to exah he hadn’t realised they were there But how could he forget? They were the marks that made him the man everyone feared, the man who commanded respect wherever he went

“The marks were made as you said A sharp swipe across the fist with a knife A hand held forcibly over a flame”

Her face turned ashen “A lers’ denquality of her voice edged towards pity

“Mine are the scars of a boy, not a o back to his school days If only the boy had possessed the strength and wisdoht What once seemed unbearable now runs off me like rain on apane”