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The Hawk and the Dove by Virginia Henley6/29/2023 She has a mania for rebuilding her castles. “The marble is for Bess, the countess of Hardwick. His fingers began to work their magic and it was with difficulty that she remembered the question that had plagued her. She slipped her arms about his neck and lost her thread of thought. “Of course,” he admitted as he bit her ear and let his lips play along her throat. “You wanted her to be indebted to you, didn’t you?” She swirled her fingers in the thick matt of black hair upon his chest. “Oh, my darling,” he said, sweeping her up and carrying her to their bed, “so do I, but it cannot be.” He undressed her gently, murmuring, “My little love, I’ll make it up to you.” He kissed her eyelids and smoothed the tiny curls from her temples. “Yes,” she cried, “I want us to be man and wife!” “Don’t you feel bonded to me?” he demanded. I took your virginity and I never want you to know another man.” He shook her. “Sabre, I don’t think of you as my mistress!” She saw the hurt in his eyes. “’Fore God, men are generous with their mistresses.” I’ve deposited ten thousand pounds in your name with Herriot’s, the goldsmith’s.” She stiffened in his arms, surprised at the large sum. “Darling, I never want you to be left in a mess such as Frances is now in. He slipped his arms about her beneath her breasts and bent to place a tender kiss on the top of her head.
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