Tension rode towards her on palpable waves. He sat rigidly, regarding her beneath sleek slanted brows. It would be tempting to believe him, take him at his word. His voice was laced with sincerity, but that meant nothing. He was a tactician, a captain in the navy, no mean feat. He knew how to speak to people. Knew what to say, how to say it and had kept his winning argument for last, timed perfectly for when she might falter against the lure of his words. Men of many walks of life had woven words that touched her and in the end they left her as empty as those words. At the moment she clung to self-preservation and prior knowledge. As tempting as Gregory was, he was just a man, tarnished with the same untrustworthy brush as them all. And in his position, kidnapped, cuffed and facing a court for final judgment, he would say anything to be released. His voice was a soft growl. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
