This may be my last Summary Sunday for a couple of weeks. I'm going on vacation to visit my sister
Monday: That mindless ease in his privilege had infuriated Robert and set Gunthar in his mind, at first, among the detestable ranks of men like Beckford and Strode.
Tuesday: The breeze had dispersed the day’s clouds so that Robert could watch the progression of the moon across stars so thick they seemed to form a white smear across the sky.
Wednesday: Every bitter memory had screamed at Robert to throw Kit into the fire of Gunthar’s suspicion last night.
Thursday:“Oui, seigneur, mais c'était seulement un chevreuil.” (Okay, confession. I don’t speak French! This character is supposed to be saying, “Yes, my lord, but it was only a deer.” Did I get it right?)
Friday: He had abandoned his post to trail Kit and could only imagine Gunthar’s disgust if dawn arrived to reveal the escaped villein in whom he had placed his trust had apparently run away like a coward.
Saturday: There was nothing to stop him from taking revenge. Revenge for his father’s murder, for Lottie’s bruises and tears, for William’s aching loneliness . . . Vengeance flooded Robert’s mouth, scalding and corrosive. His hand clenched tighter on his hilt. Nothing to stop him . . .