Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. " Mr. It was an intimate smell, the unmistakable scent of him and another woman. Of course this thing was absolutely impossible. " "But you will,—won't you?" she rejoined, looking him coaxingly in the face. "I have him!" cried a voice in triumph. "It was the story of a man, so to speak, who had left his vitals in his native land and wandered strange paths emptily. "That depends upon what you call educated. Nevertheless, she was still fighting. ” 281 282 About the Author Kimberly Steele grew up in a suburb of Chicago, Illinois and currently resides in Naperville, Illinois. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel. “Hi John. “I wonder,” he said, “how you would like to be made love to—boldly or timorously or sentimentally.
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