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"You do not trust me? Or yourself?" |
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But Rhiannon's voice was uncertain. Over the month that Simon had been away, Rhiannon had looked closely into her own heart. She was no callow girl. Many men had paid court to herfor the sake of her beauty, her father's power, the dower he implied he would give with her, perhaps even for the strangeness that had attracted Simon. None had interested her until this man with the leopard's grace and swiftness had struck at her heart. Truth was that she did not think any other man could touch her while Simon lived. It was him she did not trust, not herself. |
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"Are you so light of purpose?" he asked. "I do not think so. Your father and mother do not think so. I have heard you accused by others of stubbornness, by yourself of carelessnessnever of wavering purpose." |
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"It is so great a thing to hold a heart in one's hands, not in jest or light words, but truly," Rhiannon murmured. "Even if my purpose never wavered, a moment's carelessness . . ." |
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"One is not careless about great things," Simon pointed out, "and I am not a fool. Do you think I would break my heart over a smile or a teasing look? I might well grow angry and let you feel my hand, but I would need to know that you loved me no longer before real hurt was done." |
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The simple admission told the tale completely. "Then it is I you do not trust," Simon went on. "Well, that is a relief." |
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He smiled at her. "I can give sureties to you for myself, but how can I give sureties to you for you?" He released her hands and added, "Yes, take off the hosen. They pinch abominably when I bend my knees." |
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As Rhiannon leaned forward to undo the ties at the |
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