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O, I forbid ye maidens a', that wear gold in your hair,
To come or go by Carterhaugh, for young Tamlane is there. 'Twas not Robert Burn's legendary elfin knight who greeted Amarantha upon her arrival at her uncle's mansion, but the dark and wild Tamlane Adair. The scotsman's movement enthralled her, and the rumors of his nighttime rides
across Bodmin's more only heightened his air of mystery. His voice was like silk sliding over her skin, clothing her in blissful delirium. Listening to him, she could almost
forget the anguish that had driven her from London and the
Jacobite Rebellion which had cost her so much. In his eyes she could see the dangers of the Cornish coast-- and in his arms,
it's wonderful promise. There's none that goes by Carterhaugh, but maun leave
him a wad;
Either gold rings or green mantles... or else their maidenheads.
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