” John traced his finger over the meeting point of her breast and her ribcage as they lay naked on his unmade bed. They could not go on. Her heartbeat raced, her limbs turned to water, and it was only by a miracle and the strength of the arms that held her that she remained standing on her feet. ‘Why not a French flag?’ ‘Because I don’t believe that fool Pottiswick could tell French from Arabic, even if he heard it as he says he did—which I take leave to doubt. ” “The only Montague Hill I ever knew,” Annabel said slowly, “is dead.
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