He is a knight. So often as she had herself manipulated a dagger, she could not mistake the shape that pressured across her chest, or the sharp point that dug below her bosom. “I’ve had most of the things I wanted,” said Ramage, in the stillness of the night. “How could it not have hurt?” His analytical side started putting in overtime. For what indeed does she do? A simple song, no gesture, no acting, nothing.
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