Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck. “Take off your tunic. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. ’ ‘Of course I am, imbecile,’ she snapped, unconsciously echoing her greatniece. "The door's open, and the room empty.
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