However, the other door in the living room now stood open, and at the sound of the bedroom door closing behind me, Marcus appeared in its threshold. “Feeling better?” he asked. “Much,” I admitted, though pain lanced through my ribs when I spoke. He may have noticed my wince, for he said, “Come join me and have a seat. Let me look at that bandage, and perhaps, if you are feeling up to it, I can examine your arm.” I followed him into a study with a beautiful mahogany desk in one corner and a wall almost filled with books. “You salvaged…all of these?” “Oh, no. Certainly not. I was fortunate to capture the attention of a ship several months after my shipwreck. We developed a sort of trade agreement. Fruit, smoked meats, animals, and my marvelous creations in return for books, the occasional canned delicacy, pipe tobacco, and parts.” A devilish question came to me. What did the man do for female companionship? But that was certainly no proper thought for an English gentleman.
