Falcon's Honor. Denise Lynn
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Heat filled her cheeks. Rhian admitted, “’Tis not exactly you that I fear.”
Faucon’s soft chuckle raced warm across her heart. “Your imagination is far-reaching. It is not as if I will impale and kill you.”
At the absurd vision his words created in her mind Rhian had no choice but to laugh.
Faucon tipped his head to one side, shot her a boyish-looking half smile before asking, “Would it upset you to know that I have not the vast experience you seem to believe I possess?”
Rhian sighed. Then pulled up the skirts of her gown and turned around on his lap. With her legs astride his, she placed her hands against his chest.
“Disappointed?” His deep voice rumbled up from his chest.
Rhian smiled up at him. “Disappointed?” She shook her head. “Nay, Milord Faucon. I am relieved.”
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