” John traced his finger over the meeting point of her breast and her ribcage as they lay naked on his unmade bed. But she found an unknown lady’s discarded garments, and selected some of those that she tried on, sending Kimble off down the secret passage to load them onto the horse she had borrowed—unbeknownst to its owner—from Father Saint-Simon. Taking hold of the hilt of his own foil, he drew it forth. Marina had retired to bed, drinking wine slowly, sleeping when she was not drinking. And now, a fair exchange, Sir.
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