That dress she has on—my mother might have worn it. Sated, he rolled off her body and retired to his quarters. ‘She won’t confide in you? Now, why?’ ‘Because that scoundrel Leonardo drummed it into her head that no man was to be trusted,’ Gerald announced viciously. . “There was a man called Montague Hill,” she said hoarsely, “but he is dead. You will leave me utterly distraught. He suckled at her shoulder blade as he slid her panties down.
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