‘Very astute of you Mr. Kincaid. They’re Russian to be precise. I was born in Moscow but raised on my father’s merchant ship along the coast of ...ngland.’ ‘Where are your parents now?’ he asked accusingly. ‘Do they approve of this lifestyle of yours?’ She lowered her eyes and busied herself with a piece of roasted duck. ‘They’re both dead. My mother when I was a baby and my father when I was seventeen.’ ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. Looking at her with tender eyes, he continued, ‘We have more in common. ’ Was I flirting? I hesitated as he beckoned me to come closer, his eyes looking straight at me. This was happening way too quickly. As I began to look visibly nervous, I suddenly realised how poor the visibility was and almost leapt up to him to sign underneath the dusty lantern. As I looked up into his dark chocolaty eyes I was struck by how intensely he was studying my features. I was wearing my thin brown hair in a pony tail that day as it had been very humid recently. My blouse was. More

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