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Page 22

| new nameAshton Yorkhe had decided never to fall back on the old identity again. There were too many dangers in that. |

| "No," Sasha murmured, rising slowly to her full height. "II took him for someone else. How foolish I feel!" |

| She could not believe that she had let herself think that the man being generous with the gold coins could be Woodrow. If it had been he, he would have swept her away from the pub without playing games with coins! He would have been appalled to find her there, barefoot and tending to drunken, rowdy prospectorsno matter that he was the reason for her situation. |

| Ashton slipped a possessive arm around Sasha's waist and drew her close to him. He glared at the man who still smugly stood his ground, his thick lips curved into a sly grin. "Mate, I would suggest you be on your way," he said flatly, challenging the man he knew as Stanford Sidwell. Ashton had never been certain if that was Stanford's true name. A confidence man and ex-convict, Stanford could fool anyonesurely even his own mother. |

| Ashton's gaze swept over Stanford and saw that his leisurely pastime of thinking about how to get moneyscheming, planning, plotting, organizing, and dreaming of itseemed to be working for him since his recent departure from prison. His dark hair oiled and scented, his midnight-black eyes confident, he played the role of a man of dignity well. Today he was dressed resplendently in a crisp white ruffled shirt, a silk embroidered, white Marseilles waistcoat, and dark, snug-fitting breeches. A diamond stickpin sparkled from the folds of his |

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