” Anna rose to her feet. Ennison himself, with the recollection of Annabel’s visit still fresh in his mind, was for a moment constrained and ill at ease. She pulled at his tee shirt again, wishing to feel his naked chest upon hers. But now it’s beads by the cask—like the hold of a West African trader. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt. ’ ‘Nonsense.
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