Suddenly Anna felt her hand seized and imprisoned in Courtlaw’s burning fingers. She hated being angry, the uselessness of it all, the frustration. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. ‘I do not know how you think you may help me,’ she said slowly. And then there came for both of them at least a temporary awakening. She felt her own body stir, ready for more.
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