"When is he to suffer?" she demanded, fixing her large black eyes, which burnt with an insane gleam, upon him. Had she said the words aloud? He pulled her close and she nuzzled her head on his chest. ‘Jacques?’ she called out, forgetting the need for silence. Those lives removed,—and Sir Rowland is completely in his power, the estates would be yours—HIS! if he were your husband. She nuzzled his chest and he breathed deeply of the scent of her Finesse conditioner. "Well, you never can tell," he continued, lamely.
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