Lucilla clearly adored her betrothed, anyone could see that. Taking a firm grasp of his pistol, Gerald eased back, let go the handle of the door, and at the same instant, swung his booted foot. In fact, Kimble was drowsily awake when she entered the little bedchamber, the state of which left a good deal to be desired, even without the added debris arising from tending a wounded man. " "And by whom were they both destroyed?" demanded his sister, raising herself by a painful effort, and regarding him with a searching glance. Her white shirt was ridiculously utilitarian, but fitted in all the right places, he smirked.
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