Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. Capital swordsman. He reached for her chin and lifted it up. In seconds, they faced each other before the altar. A forgotten island beyond the ship lanes, where that grim Hand would falter and move blindly in its search for him! From what he had read, there wouldn't be much to do; and in the idle hours he could write.
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