Sebastian returned to find her blood dripping into the crucible. Not with the unavoidable explanations, and the need to secrete the sword and hide it before returning the priest’s horse to its stable—which had been her excuse for running from Martha’s protestations. ‘Charvill?’ uttered Roding frowningly. He smiled grandly; she could feel the radiance of his approval from across the wedding table. Sheila bellowed, a great wail of a sound from deep in her belly, flinging her tremendous weight towards him.
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