Her figure was perfect,—tall, graceful, rounded,—and, then, she had deep liquid blue eyes, that rivalled the stars in lustre. “You’re very nice, both of you,” she said gently. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. Before he could fire a second shot, Jack had to defend himself from the thieftaker, who, with his drawn hanger, furiously assaulted him. She could feel his breath on her skin, every hair on her arms and neck raised in response. ’ ‘That’s fortunate,’ murmured Lucilla.
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