” Annabel gave a little gasp. A familiar ache of wanting made itself more insistent in her belly. He addressed her by that title, and something in the tone disturbed her. It was a look that accorded very well with the hayloft setting that had come to mind. She read beautifully because the fixed form of the poem signified nothing. “And you must please not look at me as though I were an executioner,” she declared lightly. There was a trader—a man who bought copra and pearls.
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