Of course, I don't pretend that it hadn't crossed my mind earlier. A woman is entitled to window shop. Nevertheless, the first time I seriously considered the possibility that I might be falling for Lord Suitov Iceheart was when we were all double-wrapped in yak hides crossing the Premolar Mountains and he cracked a joke about daffodils.

That's something Suitov does a lot. I suspect the idea is to cheer me up and make me forget how far I am from home. Among the many things that surprised me about Suitov is how he doesn't mind looking goofy if it'll put a woman at ease. Most 'aristocrats' I've known are obsessed more than anything with being dignified at all times and, to tell you the truth, I'm not used to hearing lofty lords joking around.

Or, indeed, asking my opinion. That's another thing. When most men say "what do you think?", they generally want you to back them up. When Suitov asks, the intonation is different -- he wants to know. And he listens. Even when he's being told he's wrong. If he wasn't so obviously a man in other ways, I don't know...

I think what finally made me feel comfortable with Suitov was, well, the flipside of what made me uneasy to begin with. He didn't want anything from me. The door-opening, the compliments, the random thoughtful presents, for heaven's sake: the obvious thought, to me anyway, was that he wanted to get into my pants. After a while I realised none of it's aimed at impressing people. He just actually is like that.

Maybe it's upbringing. Whatever it is, it's damned attractive. That's the conclusion I came to, two thirds of the way up those mountains, and I'm sticking to it.

Now all I need to do is find a way into his pants. Perhaps I'll buy him a book...

Yeah. I'd be interested to see who you think our narrator here is.