The night had swallowed him up, but his work on her was done. ’ Kimble’s eyes widened. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. She moaned as he buried himself completely to the hilt. “Don’t!” she begged. Posts were offered to all who chose to accept them.
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