He felt he had raised a storm which it would be very difficult, if not impossible, to allay. ‘Up, Jacques, up,’ she ordered. " Thames was about to follow, when he felt a gentle grasp upon his arm. His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. “Are you cold?” He asked her, cocking his head to one side like a puppy, so close that the heat of his words warmed her cheek.
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