Perfect. Splendid. She seemed so willing, so content to play along. Yes, it was a gamble (or a gambit?) on her part just to get out, to slip away, to escape--such as she could. But she seemed so suddenly willing, so suddenly delighted by this arrangement. He smiled at her, smiling even to the light dancing in his eyes.

"There's nothing sacred to me. Important...perhaps." He slipped his arms around her waist. "But sacred? No." He drew closer. "So I'll swear..." and closer still "...on you."

And he held still then. She was to kiss him, and not the other way around, and that was the word of it, and he would have her hold to it.

"I swear. I swear on you, on your hair and your eyes, on your lips and your neck, on your skin and your hands, on your back, on your tongue, that I will let you go after this one act."

And he waited.