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he had been blocking noises he did not want to hear from the camp outside. Still, he could not bear to release Rhiannon. "What?" he called hoarsely, more for the sake of clinging to her yielding warmth for another second or two than because he did not know the answer. |
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"There are many men, a hundred or more, riding a sweep pattern. They cannot fail to find us. Do you wish to run, stay, or fight, my lord?" |
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There was another brief hesitation. Simon knew what was right, but it went sorely against his training and the grain of his own disposition. When he had released her lips, Rhiannon had laid her head against his breast for a moment. Now she pulled away gently, and he let her go. |
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"Run," he answered, and stalked out of the tent. |
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Rhiannon was already on her knees packing the few things she had taken out of the traveling baskets. Tears of frustration ran down her cheeks, and she cursed the oncoming forces with every ill she knew by the old gods and the new. There would not be another chance like this. Now she would have to tell him before he took her, see the pain in his eyes, and deal with his gentle but irrevocable withdrawal. This had been her last chance to touch him and love him. Once back in Angharad's Hall, Rhiannon knew she would have to end the relationship completely. If she did not, she would feel every pain for him a thousand times when he was not even hurt. |
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The pain of parting would be terrible, but it would end if she did not see Simon again. It would be like a twin-trunked tree, riven by lightning. It took long, but the scar would heal over and the standing tree would live. If she could not endure now, she would be smitten with worse pain later, and it would never heal. It would grow worse and worse as her love deepened and she grew more dependent on it with the years. But she had wanted him one more time. |
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