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That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals. She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her. ’ ‘Militia, miss,’ Kimble corrected her. Yet before she turned once more to resume her flight she schooled herself with an effort to look where it had happened. F. A familiar ache of wanting made itself more insistent in her belly.
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