It was neither good nor bad. But Jonathan was not to be deterred. She untucked his starched shirt, running her hands along his smooth torso and underneath his arms. It was Blueskin. Her life hangs upon a thread, and this may snap it. ’ Leaning down, she raised the hem of the petticoat of her habit to reveal a neat little pair of boots on her feet. “What is going on between you two?” Lucy asked.
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