The skritch, skritch,skritch of charcoal against paper was the only sound in the room. Marshall glanced briefly at the page, before looking up at Luka again. He didn’t know which was worse: staring at the drawing or at the man? Not that Luka was a chore to look at. Far from it. His fallen angel face and loose curls made him a dead ringer for the model Cellini had used for his marble Narcissus. Marshall was no Renaissance sculptor, however. Just a struggling art student who co