81.   Her hand was already on the doorknob.

82.   His hands were on her shoulders, turning her gently to face him.

83.   His hands were lean and sure on the wheel.

84.   Her hand was still lightly on his arm when suddenly the library door was pushed inwards.

85.   While he spoke his hands were moving over her limbs, checking for broken bones.

86.   His hands were warm and firm on her upper arms, and she caught her breath.

87.   His hand was suddenly up above her, leaning on the door-jamb.

88.   Her hands had been clammy and her breathing irregular, but a small brandy had helped to settle her nerves.

89.   Her hands were on his shoulders and she was pleading, but the words were a blur in the swirling mist of need and pain that engulfed him.

90.   Then those hands were unzipping and tugging and peeling off clothes as though they were on fire.