Her mouth was worthy of her face; with small, pearly-white teeth; lips glossy, rosy, and pouting; and the sweetest smile imaginable, playing constantly about them. He grabbed her wrist and prised the weapon from her fingers, ignoring her other hand that clawed at his to try to retain the trophy. " "Bless you for it. " "That's easily said. "Do you think I'm afeard of a beggarly thief-taker and his myrmidons? Not I. For the face under her gaze she could find but one expression—fine. She made lumpish and inadequate interruptions rather than replies. Was this the result of some strange experiment? It was the person of Annabel Pellissier—the soul of a very different order of being.
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