Cecilia Adler: "...." 'What on earth is he on about?' Good-naturedly, she got out of bed, tied the bag holding the flowers shut, and stuffed it into the bottom of the cabinet. Closing the door, she kept her voice soft. "Is this better now?"
"Yes." Ian grabbed his clothes and went into the bathroom.
Cecilia lay down again. Just as she was drifting off, a hand at her waist tugged at the hem of her nightshirt.
"Ian, it's very late." Cecilia turned to face him, a hint of exasperation in her voice. "Can we wait until tomorrow?"
At her words, he pulled his arm back, slipping it behind his head as he studied her.
'More delicate than a flower, purer than the moon.'
'If he were just a little more forceful, she would be his tonight.'
'Tomorrow it is, then.'
'He could wait one more day.'
"Cecilia, you seem to have lost weight."
'That person had left a message saying Titus Shaw was her real father, and she was brooding over it.'
