” “Your priestess,” whispered Ann Veronica, softly. Her cheeks seemed to burn, her veins ran riot, and her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must feel it through his scarlet coat. Then he entered her passionately, riding her with exquisite precision. Something tells me I am rushing on greater danger. The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way.
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