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Page 504
salves she needed, but she was afraid to wash the rest of Ian's body. There was too much chance of arousing him and herself again.
In the privacy of her own chamber, Alinor took herself to task. Of all the men in the world to lust after, Ian was the last. Simon had molded Ian into a mirror of his own uprightness. Not that Ian would object in the least to mating casually with this woman or that. Considering what he looked like, there must have been plenty of women, particularly in John's lascivious court. The king was openly a lecher and preferred that his gentlemen and his queen's ladies should not be overly virtuous. Ian would not be horrified at bedding any lady of the court; he would only be horrified that Simon's wife could feel such a need.
Alinor understood that when a strong, young man had been continent for months, the slightest thing, the lightest touch would wake his body. She would have laughed and forgotten it had Ian himself not been so appalled at his reaction to "Simon's wife."
"I am not only 'Simon's wife,'" Alinor sobbed softly. "I am Alinor."

 
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