I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. Wood became sensible that he was not alone. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. ’ ‘Eh bien, it is your fault entirely in this case. I worship you. ” Lucy rubbed Michelle on the shoulder. Besides, you cannot visit people armed with a pistol in London, you know.
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