Despite him, it was the beauty that she had inherited from her mother they had used to gain the betrothal, and it had not been easy. ‘And me, I am a lady. I will take her away and make her serve me as my wife. She leaned forward, her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and she set her gaze upon his face and kept it there in dreamy contemplation. He walked her home. "Don't go, I beg of you!" she implored. Something or other—she did not catch what—he was damned if he could stand.
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