“I want to show you something. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. McClintock could not browbeat him, storm as he might. Sniveling brats, little fatherless bastards, you should breathe a sigh of relief. Trodger might not need his hair dressed, but the flagon of ale that each soldier quaffed would be welcome—once his captain had departed, thought Roding cynically. “Cool.
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