” He whispered with reverence. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. Once she reached the bamboo curtain, clutched at it and tore it down as his arms went around her waist. Pity you aren’t under my command. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. ’ He sat looking her over in silence for a moment or two, his thoughts revolving around the name and the way it fitted so exquisitely on quite another set of features.
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