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less items would look like filled out by the curves hidden beneath that familiar pink dress. |
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The thought had made him wipe his brow from a heat that had little to do with the beating sun. |
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When he'd noticed the laundry, he had been returning from one of his quick, frequent sojourns into the woods to scout for persons who did not belong in the vicinitymostly Indians. Immediately, he had realized someone had invaded his domain, for the door to his home was open. |
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He had run silently toward it, prepared to wage war with any marauder, whether beast or man. |
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It had been neither. Mariah Walker had been inside. |
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Perhaps her invasion had been the most intrusive of all, for she did not merely enter to steal or destroy. She had trespassed upon his soul. |
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He had seen her stare at the uniform he had fastened upon the wall as a reminder of who he was and why he could not be trusted in civilization. |
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And when she had noticed him, after the first look of shock and fear had passed, there had been a glimmer of pity. |
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She wanted his laundry? He would get it for her! |
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Pivoting on his heel, he went back inside the house. |
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He needed pity from no one. Nor did he wish to pity anyone else. |
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But he glanced now at the spot where she had stood when he had looked at her hands. ''Blast!" he swore aloud. |
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He had noticed before, when she had so diligently yet inefficiently worked at starting the fire, how soft and pretty were her hands. The hands of a pampered woman who had never toiled in her life. |
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And now they were the blistered, reddened hands of a servant. |
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"A servant?" he heard himself mutter. He knew how a servant should act. He'd had servants aplenty until the disaster that had forced him to the colonies. Mariah Walker did not act like a servant. She had not denied that she was a rich woman from the east, either, and yet something did not quite fit: her sweet voice had an accent he could not place. She |
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