"Let's stop for a bit, Tom," I request.He pulls the horse up to a tree, and ties him up, then moves towards me to help me down. "Let's sit, Tom." Yes,...ma'am," he says, helping me down to a soft spot of grass.I spread my petticoat around gracefully, delighting in his lingering looks. Wanting to put him at ease, I start asking him questions about his life, showing my interest in him. He loosens up and tells me his favorite stories of family-time. I discover he plays the fiddle. I marvel at his. Moira squeezed his hand, again more in restraint than reassurance, andwafted him into the main bedroom. Beneath her coat, Jason thought hecould detect the rustle of satin on taffeta as she minced towards thehuge double bed. His eyes were transfixed on the gleaming heels anddelicious seam of Moira's nylons as it disappeared beneath the hem ofthe shiny mackintosh.She peeled around for effect at the bedside, a four-poster thatMargaret had ordered once George was effectively out of the place,. More

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