His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. ‘Ah, now I may see what damage Gérard has done to me,’ she muttered, crossing to the table and putting her hand to the sore place at her neck. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. ‘We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 24-09-2024 19:34:36