His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. I don’t know. I was grounded for the last two weeks. A piece of seaweed touched her hand, tender and green. “I hope that Mr. “Shot through the lungs,” he remarked. . . This done, he let himself carefully down by it, and having only a few feet to drop, alighted in safety. Drummond patted him on the shoulder. You have the ideas. " The stranger said nothing, but hastily brushed away a tear. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel.
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