“I should get a gift to take to his family.”“A bottle of whiskey would be good,” he said, “but they don’t sell that in the Christmas marke.... I could take you someplace where they sell it cheap, special price but very good quality.”“I don’t think that’s quite what I had in mind,” I said, with a laugh. Like carrying coals to Newcastle, I thought. The boy would probably be taking me to one of Helmut Schwartzman’s hidden shops and selling me back product I’d had smuggled into the country. I rose to my feet, awkwardly holding the weapon. Like a dream, Meagan emerged from the shadows behind the fire. She approached me, her tunic falling away like some forgotten memory. She took the sword from my hand and tossed it to the ground. With a finger to my lips, she led me quietly to what was going to be our tent for the night. I struggled to get my jersey over my head as Meagan pushed me to the bed and shoved my kilt past my hips, laying my hardness to bare. I ran my fingers through her. More

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