He knew that nobody is beyond redemption. If only he could make her see this! The pain of seeing such a lovely person being destroyed was far worse th...n that of losing her.The icon that Emma had touched in the Blue Room was now in the rebuilt monastery on the family's former estate. He had flown back to Russia especially to return the ancient and holy relic to the monastery personally. It had been the only one of his great grandfather's treasures that the hard-headed and mercenary old rogue had. They took time to cure. The septic tank was dropped in place and covered over with a pre-cast concrete cap. The inspectors had been watching and signed off on the foundation. That ended the first two weeks.The crane came. Load after load of concrete slab showed up. Teams of men glued up the edges of the slabs and constructed a temporary scaffolding to hold the slabs in place until the adhesive cured. The adhesive used was stronger than the concrete. The outer slabs had a surface treatment that. They are very well protected now, too protected,” she said, laughing. He slipped his forefinger under the cast and into the barely visible slit between her breasts. She gasped and her left foot moved convulsively. Subsequently, her brow furrowed with pain. He took his hand back, then looked anxiously at her pale face. Her features relaxed gradually and she tried to smile. “I’m such an idiot!” John said. “Please, do it again!” she said with unexpected twinkle in her eyes. “Are you sure?” . The sheets are clean.’ She crossed the room and tugged at the gilt handle on the gloss-painted wardrobe door. With a squeal, the door opened and she found herself staring at a tightly packed rail full of her Uncle’s clothes. ‘Found anything?’ Matt stepped past her and reached into the wardrobe. ‘Here, this should do the job.’ He retrieved an enormous beige and brown woolly cardigan and held it up ready for her to slide in an arm. ‘Put this on.’ But she didn’t move. Couldn’t move. The cardigan.
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