Winds returned, the gardens withered, and roses would not bloom. “Suppose you call me by my proper name,” she said quietly. ’ ‘He did, you know,’ grinned Gerald. His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. He brightened as she took off her hood.
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