. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her. But who would pay the ransom? There was no one left in his family. I do not say guest because that suggests friendship; and I am no friend of this Wastrel. He pushed her small hand into his jeans. ‘But what is it that amuses you, Jacques?’ Kimble’s grin spread wider.
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