Ruby's gaze lingered on Troy with a mix of pity and ridicule. She said, "Mr. MacAfee, some things can't be forced. A man's body doesn't lie. Once age catches up with you—and especially if you've overindulged in wine and women—it's no use pretending. When it stops working, it stops working."

Troy roared in frustration. "No! My heart still burns with passion! I'm still ready for battle!"

Ruby let out a light laugh. "Ah, but your weapon is rusted and brittle. It's no longer fit for combat. Tell me, how can a knight without a proper sword hope to ride onto the battlefield?"

Troy slumped on the bed, looking like the life had been drained out of him. He could not stand it—he was sitting in front of a feast, yet his body refused to let him enjoy it. No matter how much his pride resisted, his body's limits were absolute.

Pulling his clothes on hastily, Troy muttered, "Baby, give me a few days to recover, and we'll go again. I promise—I'll make you beg for mercy next time."

Ruby, exha