Stanton Ware felt as if her face was in front of his closed eyes.
He could see every feature, the curve of her lips, the strange lights in her eyes.
‘She is truly named,’ he thought.
Then he told himself that there was too much fire in her for a pearl to be the correct description.
Perhaps she was like an emerald, as green and unfathomable as a mountain pool or a ruby with the burning fires of the sun hidden in its depths.
He laughed because he was being ridiculously imaginative, but he was still thinking of her as he fell asleep.
*
The following morning, to Stanton Ware’s relief, the Prince informed his guests after they had breakfasted that he had business to see to and he hoped that they would excuse him for an hour or so.
This was the opportunity that Stanton Ware had been wai
