‘I kissed you once, didn’t I?’ Her pulses jumped and she stared. Her aunt went off at a tangent. “Who are you—Annabel Pellissier or her ghost?” Anna laughed. ‘Very well,’ he said, lowering his own weapon. After all, why need one look down. ‘I don’t want that girl running her head into any more danger. Battle, murder, and sudden death—and an old chap like McClintock tuning his piano in the midst of it.
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