"I did sometimes wonder what he saw in you," he said, his tone deliberately light. "Jamie." "Oh, you did? How flattering." I sniffed, and blew my nose. "When he began to speak of you, both of us thought you dead," he pointed out. "And while you are undoubtedly a handsome woman, it was never of your looks that he spoke." To my surprise, he picked up my hand and held it lightly. "You have his courage," he said. That made me laugh, if only halfheartedly. "If you only knew," I said. He didn't reply to that, but smiled faintly. His thumb ran lightly over the knuckles of my hand, his touch light and warm. "He doesn't hold back for fear of skinned knuckles," he said. "Neither do you, I think." "I can't." I took a deep breath and wiped my nose; the tears had stopped. "I'm a doctor." "So you are," he said quietly, and paused. "I have not thanked you for my life." "It wasn't me. There isn't really anything much I can do, for something like a disease. All I can do is to ... be there." "A little more than that," he said dryly, and released my hand. "Will you have more ale?" I was beginning to see quite clearly what Jamie saw in John Grey."