The by now familiar dramatic sigh came. “Don’t fence with me,” Anna cried fiercely. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. When he faced Spurlock, the granite was cracked and rived; never had Spurlock seen such dumb agony in human eyes. Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached.
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