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For the first time, Will appeared confused. Tilting his large hat, he bowed his head as though he were thinking, and he stroked the edges of his beard. |
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Thorn and Ainsley had nearly reached them. Had they heard her comment? Ainsley, as usual, was smiling, but the pulling of his narrow upper lip over his uneven teeth appeared almost like the unholy grimace of a death's head. There was no humor in his small serpent's eyes, either. |
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Too brightly, Mariah said to Thorn, "Did you know it was Billy's grandfather who stole him away? He's been living in Philadelphia all this time." |
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It was Thorn's turn to look confused. He turned toward Ainsley. Against the peacock garishness of the British uniform, Thorn looked tall and broad shouldered and stunningly handsome in the plainness of his white shirt and dark breeches. The leather coat he had worn for protection on their rainy trip upriver now hung from one shoulder, braced there by a strong hand. |
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How could Mariah bear to lose him? |
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He said to Ainsley, "I thought you told me the poor lad had led an unbearable existence all this time in the custody of savages." |
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The soldier shrugged. "That was what we had speculated all those years ago, was it not?" |
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"Yes, but" Thorn stopped and gestured toward the solidly crafted box in Ainsley's hands. "What does it matter?" |
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"Indeed," agreed Will, who now stood by them. A breeze swirled, whipping up a soft mist at the surface of the rivers. Mariah looked around, feeling her breathing speed up and her toes grow icy. Thorn and Ainsley, Will and herself, stood near each other on the muddy triangle that formed the confluence, with the embankments of Fort Pitt looming beyond. |
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Mariah gnawed at her lower lip as Thorn lifted the lid of the box Ainsley held. Two long-barreled dueling pistols, with intricate silver swirls decorating the barrels, sat inside. |
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She tasted blood as she bit down too hard. This wasn't happening. She groped for something to stop it. Where was Pierce? |
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And Ainsleywhy wasn't Thorn's friend stopping it? |
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