I chuckle to myself as I carry the Trinovante woman toward the tent. In the little time that I've worked for her, I've probably had more adventure than most men do in a lifetime.

Looking down at the dark head tucked against my chest, I see that she has begun breathing a little easier. And the trembling seems to have stopped.

Nice, I think to myself, as the scent of her hair hits my nose. A likely lass--not too big, not too small. Curves in the appropriate places. A man could do far worse.

Looking down again, I see that she has opened her eyes. Deep purple they are -- pools to fall into. I take a deep breath then look away.

Yeah, a man could do a lot worse.