She would not sleep for fear of losing a moment of that sense of his proximity. “I wonder if I’ve been properly brought up. He devoured her with his eyes too, his shyness not able to disguise his furtive glances at the curvy outline of her breast against the imitation silk, his memory still exquisitely tortured by her movements in the miniskirt. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. Vanity was a vice not just to be deprecated, but effectively strangled at birth. I thought Bess would have cried her pretty eyes out when she heard you was nabbed.
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