Fury was burning like a slow fuse. When it hit the target it would burst into a conflagration. His target was her. Yet she threw her arms extravagantly into the air as if she didn’t have a care in the world It was the signal for him to turn on her, his body so taut Cate was made fully aware of the power in him. “I’ve never known anyone like you,” he said, in a hard, unforgiving voice. “So you used to say.” Her comment was foolishly facetious, adding fuel to the fire. “Don’t make me angrier than I already am,” he warned. “Your mother rang you, of course?” “My adopted mother,” Cate found herself saying, taking an armchair. “She’s a jolly old Radclyffe, you know. You’re related.” “That jolly old Radclyffe who just happened to have been born at Radclyffe Hall washed her hands of her own family. She’s your real mother, your biological mother.
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