As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. Michelle looked at Lucy's feet, still in the ugly brown loafers she had worn since last year. “I have no wish,” he said, “to altogether ignore the fact that you are my wife’s sister, and have therefore a certain claim upon me. ’ ‘No, of course you could not,’ Gerald soothed. "You must not remain here," he said. And the infernal thought of that kiss returned—the softness of her lips and the cool smoothness of her cheeks.
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