She was alone with a deadly enemy. Fortescue, with a bow. He had assumed that her leaving home was the point at issue, that everything turned on that, and that the sole alternative was obedience, and she had fallen in with that assumption until rebellion seemed a sacred principle. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. Likely as not outside the law, too. “I have the right to be here.
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