She drew in a deep breath of the sweet mountain air. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. "Blueskin," said Ireton. As he gazed down into the courts of the prison, he could not help shuddering, lest a false step might precipitate him below. And yet, at the end of this prayer a subconscious thought broke through to consciousness. He kissed her neck, moving down to her breasts, trying to consume her with passion. ‘But lay him down.
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