One Knight In Venice. Tori Phillips

I can see you clearly.”

      “Sophia!” Jessica gasped. What had gotten into her companion that made her speak so rudely, especially to a man who wore a brace of wicked-looking daggers across his chest?

      The African broke into rolling laughter as he sank down onto the chair. “Most excellent!” he rumbled with delight. “By my beard, if I had one, I think I have met my match!”

      Sophia cocked her head. “I am already married!”

      The Englishman cast her a wry look. “So is he, signora. Four times!”

      “Truly?” Jessica eyed the grinning giant. If he practiced such a heathenish custom he could not possibly be a cleric. Relief relaxed the knots in her stomach.

      The African popped a sugared almond into his mouth. “Indeed, madonna. Now go to, Francis. I know that I leave you in good hands.” He turned his merry eyes on Sophia. “Meanwhile, little pigeon, draw up the other chair and tell me your whole life’s history and I will tell you mine.” He winked at his friend before returning his gaze to Sophia. “Methinks you and I will be spending a goodly amount of time in each other’s company.”