She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. She writhed in ecstasy as she wrapped her legs around his waist, then raised her knees to his shoulders. She found herself looking sheepishly around the bedroom when a sudden tingle of electricity moved from her groin, fanning out from her belly. "I shall want nothing more. And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of hers was a slender reed on which to lean. Lady Trafford uttered a prolonged scream, and fainted. Ramage, regarding it and putting a well-booted foot up on the bottom rail. ” “And for me,” Anna echoed. “The man is dangerous.
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