Blood From a Stone (35 page)

C
H
AP
T
E
R
F
OU
R

1511
A
.
D
.

“
I
l
ove
you,
D
an
i
a,”
Sa
m
s
on
li
ed
as
he
l
ed
t
he
beau
tif
ul
young
w
o
m
an
t
o
t
he
back
of
t
he
barn
n
e
s
tl
ed
i
n
t
he
fi
e
l
d
t
hat
w
as
part
of
h
i
s
f
a
t
her
’
s
es
t
a
t
e.
H
e
had
w
a
it
ed
f
or
t
h
i
s
m
o
m
ent
f
or
so
m
e
ti
m
e…and
i
t
had been qu
it
e
some
ti
m
e s
i
nce
he
’
d
l
ast
seen
her.
She
see
m
ed even
m
ore beau
tif
ul
t
han he
re
m
e
m
bered  so
m
e
m
on
t
hs
be
f
ore.
A
nd
no
w
,
h
i
s
on
l
y
t
hought
w
as
t
o get
her
a
l
one,
i
n
t
he hopes
of
convinc
i
ng her
t
o par
t
ake
i
n
t
he
p
l
easures
of
t
he
fl
esh
w
h
i
ch
he
so
eas
il
y
t
ook
f
or gran
t
ed but
t
hat
she had not
yet
kno
w
n.
D
an
i
a
s
m
il
ed.

“
Sa
m
son,
m
y
l
ord…you
know
I
am
not
going
t
o
l
ay
w
it
h
you.
H
aven
’
t
w
e
been
over
and
over
t
h
i
s
t
hrou
g
hout
t
he seasons? I
do
l
ove you,
t
hough.
W
it
h a
l
l
m
y
hear
t
.”

She
reached
out
and
m
oved a s
t
ray
l
ock of
h
i
s
l
ong ha
i
r
f
rom
h
i
s
f
orehead
and
t
he
hones
t
y
i
n
her
eyes
a
l
m
ost
m
ade
h
i
m
f
eel
gu
ilt
y
f
or
a
second.
B
ut
on
l
y
f
or a s
e
cond.
H
e s
t
opped
her
hand
as
she
reached
ou
t
,
us
i
ng
i
t
t
o
pu
l
l
her c
l
oser
t
o h
i
m
.

“
M
y
s
w
eet
D
an
i
a,
you
know
t
hat
I
w
ou
l
d
never d
e
sert you. 
N
one
t
hat
I
have
ever
kno
w
n
can
co
m
pare
t
o
you.
I hones
tl
y
be
li
eve
you
are
t
he
one
w
ho
i
s
t
ru
l
y
m
eant
f
or
m
e,” he
li
ed aga
i
n, re
m
e
m
ber
i
ng
t
he
t
avern
m
a
i
d he
’
d be
e
n carou
s
i
ng
w
it
h
j
ust
t
he
n
i
ght
be
f
ore.
T
hat
w
as h
i
s
en
ti
re
lif
e, carou
s
i
ng,
dr
i
nk
i
ng
and
bedd
i
ng
any
w
illi
ng
w
o
m
an he cou
l
d
l
ure
t
here.
H
e
f
e
l
t
no
t
h
i
ng
f
or
any
of
t
hem
and
d
i
d
n
’
t
be
li
eve
i
n
t
he
f
oo
li
sh
chan
t
s
and
fi
res
of
her
pagan
w
or
l
d nor
of
G
od and
H
eaven e
it
her.
D
ebauchery
w
as
h
i
s
re
l
i
g
i
on.

“
Sa
m
son,
I
cannot
and
w
il
l
no
t
.
Just
because
I
am
n
ot
born of
a
w
ea
lt
hy
f
a
m
il
y
…
as
you
are,
does
not
m
ean
t
hat
I
have
no pr
i
de
f
or
m
yse
lf
.
Y
ou
know you
can
never
m
arry
m
e.
I
am no
m
ore
t
han
t
he
daugh
t
er
of
a
serf
and you are
t
he son of
a
w
ea
lt
hy
baron.
M
ayhap
w
e
shou
l
d not
see
each o
t
h
er
any
-
m
ore.”

Sa
m
son
s
t
ood
t
here
as
she
spoke
rea
li
z
i
ng
t
hat
she
w
as
not
go
i
ng
t
o g
i
ve
i
n
t
h
i
s
ti
m
e any
m
ore
t
han she had every o
t
her.
H
e
rubbed
h
i
s
ch
i
n
t
h
i
nk
i
ng
t
hrough
on
how
t
o
respond
t
o
her
s
t
a
t
e
m
en
t
.
H
e cer
t
a
i
n
l
y
d
i
dn
’
t
w
ant
t
o end
t
h
i
s…at
l
east not
ye
t
!