Her complexion had resisted the snow-glare wonderfully; her skin had only deepened its natural warmth a little under the Alpine sun. The house was eerily silent, which alerted her to the idea that someone might be listening. He could not permit her to remain in that position. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. He could not doubt it. " "Go, Sir," rejoined the knight, haughtily.
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