The way her voice tailed and the blood flushed through those pale cheeks was all he needed. The story accounted for the moaning in his dreams. Given the awkwardness of her confession, he did not wish to push the matter.
He turned around once Émilie neared, and she helped him put his shirt on. It smelled clean and was still damp as though it had been freshly laundered. He glanced around the room, but found nothing else affected by the morning dew.
Disclaimer: This excerpt from Man of War is currently in development. There may be typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth.
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