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She looked up to find him staring at her in bemusement. The heat and strength of his grip felt somehow comforting, as though she weren't alone in this foreign time and place. She recalled watching his back in the boat, and a molassesthick warmth spread through her as their eyes caught, swirling about her in the most intimate of places. "Thanks," she whispered. He bent his head down, as though he, too, felt the sensual urges pumping through her, as if he wanted to touch her lips, as they spoke, with his own. She felt a tiny shiver of anticipation start inside. But instead, he glanced around, apparently recalling where they were. He dropped her arm and continued forward. |
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Ridiculous, that she would feel so magnetized by the man, especially in such inappropriate circumstances. |
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With a sigh, she went after him. She glanced back toward the fort and the spot where she had first left her time and entered this old world. To her right, the tiny Blockhouse crouched defensively outside the walls of the fort, the only remnant in the future of the great bastion that now spread so ominously along the peninsula at the forks of the rivers. |
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Mariah recalled the confusion she'd felt on awakening, her severe headache and vertigo, the rudeness of the two soldiers. |
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She looked toward Thorn. He'd stopped ahead, waiting for her. She hurried to catch up. |
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"Where are we going first?" She was slightly out of breath, her hair dangling in her face. He, on the other hand, seemed not at all winded even after rowing them all the way upriver. |
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He glanced down at her. Was that a glimmer of amusement in his cool brown eyes? "I, Miss Walker, am going to the largest trading post in town, Allen's. You may come there, too." |
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"Oh, thank you, kind sir." |
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His hand raised toward her face. Was he angry about her sarcasm? But, no. He pulled a lock of her hair away from her cheek and tucked it tenderly behind her ear. |
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"You're welcome, Mariah." His voice, with its delightful British accent and gravelly tone, was as gentle as the breeze |
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