‘You were supposed to be nursing him,’ Martha grumbled, ‘and helping him convalesce. His hand traveled below her loose neckline, and he cupped her round breast in his hand. Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. Folding his arms, he placed his back against the door, and burst into a loud laugh. ‘Though he didn’t mean it. The odd creak was not to be avoided in an old house such as this. To be no longer with Martha was strange.
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