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Page 33

| had attempted to talk to him about her past, so she continued. |

| "Woodrow kept his word," she said, patting Lightning as the pup came and lapped at her bare feet. "Because of his kindness I learned how to read and write, how to dance, and to be skilled with the loveliest of needlework." She stopped and lowered her eyes, blushing, then looked at Ashton again. "But instead of people calling me Woodrow's ward, I was called his paramour by many.'' She circled her fingers around Ashton's clasped hand. "But Ashton, I never ever slept with Woodrow. He wanted more than for me to be his mistress. He had grown fond enough of me to want me to be his wife." |

| Ashton's eyes darkened moodily. He glanced away from Sasha, glad that Lightning had jumped onto his lap, to divert attention away from the true feelings that were jarring his insides. "Go on," he said thickly, running his free hand through the pup's soft fur. "Get it all out, Sasha. Perhaps you won't have the need to tell it again." |

| "If you wish," Sasha murmured. "Ashton, no matter how cultivated and refined I became, in the class-conscious opinion of the British aristocracy I could never be accepted as Woodrow's wife. He was a man with a background and breeding. I . . . I was the daughter of a mere metalfounder." |

| Wanting her to get through with the story, Ashton interrupted her. "So the aristocrat was forced to bring you to Australia, where he would be free to marry and love you," he said, his voice solemn. |

| "Yes," Sasha said, nodding. "But before the vows were exchanged, he was summoned back to En- |

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