At luncheon, on the third day, a thick-set man with a blue jaw smiled across his table at her. " "That's easily said. ‘I can answer that. A familiar ache of wanting made itself more insistent in her belly. For she knew that men married to get something. Wood's," was the reply. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her.
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