“Groundsel waited with his men behind him, eyeing the women with deep appreciation. That they were sisters was as obvious as the fact that they were patricians. The taller of the two, dressed in a billowing skirt of green silk and a white blouse gathered at the throat, was holding a short sword she had swept up from the ground. The other was standing beside her, no sign of fear in her wide grey eyes. Both were beautiful. The girl with the sword had short curly hair, dark and glowing like a b...eaver pelt. Her sister wore her raven hair long, curling to her shoulders; she was dressed in a flowing robe of ash-grey silk, gathered at the waist with a belt braided with gold. Groundsel felt arousal washing over him. He had never enjoyed sisters before — and these would fight, scratch and claw. He swallowed hard. Which of them should be first? The tall, proud one or the smaller, well-rounded woman with the haughty grey eyes? One of his men darted forward and the taller woman’s sword snaked out in a fierce backhand cut.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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