” She put her wrists upon his shoulders, feeling him surge with the pride of his own masculinity as she touched him. " Thus urged, Jack reluctantly departed. The old-fashioned dress, with its series of ruffles and printed flowers, ballooned treacherously, revealing her well-turned leg in silk stockings, as it snapped against her body as a mould. They would be partners only in loneliness. If hate could kill, Ramage would have been killed by a flash of hate. Sheppard. Oh, it is unbearable. One post-midnight meeting, she could stand it no longer.
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