In a moment, Roding and Lucilla joined him. A familiar ache of wanting made itself more insistent in her belly. I told her I was sick today and she told me to get over myself. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. “Certainly her voice is far more musical. Once in the room, the door locked, the sense of loneliness had dropped away from her as the mists used to drop away from the mountain in the morning.
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