She hastened past. "Why were you afraid to show me this picture, Winny?" asked the youth. ’ ‘Uh-oh,’ came from her infuriating suitor and his eyes dropped to the weapon she was dragging from the holster under her petticoat. Heaven forbid. “Why not?” he exclaimed. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. And yet, at the end of this prayer a subconscious thought broke through to consciousness. The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing.
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