’ ‘And your precious vicomte didn’t wish for the English one,’ said Charvill, acid in his voice. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. Hold your hand for a moment. Not that he deliberately courted danger; it was rather the searcher, seeking analysis, the why and wherefore of this or that invading emotion. I don't think.
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