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“How do you know I won’t simply take the painting from you?” he asked softly.

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“Because I trust you, my lord,” she said without hesitation. “You understood the merit of the picture the instant you saw it—not just its value, but its power. Which means that by trusting you I am either very brave, my lord, or very foolish.”

He chuckled as he let his hands drop away from the painting. “Tell me which you are.”

“I am sorry, my lord,” she said, “but you must decide for yourself.”

He cupped her jaw with his palm, turning her face up to his. “Then I should say you’re brave, Mary.” His mouth was just over her lips. “Very, very brave.”

How many favors would she grant him? How adventurous did she really mean to be, here beneath the willows?

The Adventurous Bride

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