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and took apart cots, table, and stools, and rolled up the bedding. By the time Rhiannon's mare was brought to her, there was no sign of the tent, aside from a flattened section of grass and weeds that would soon spring upright again. Similarly, there was no sign of past passion or tears on Rhiannon's face. |
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Simon's heart sank as he looked at her. He knew now, without words, what she had been trying to tell himthat she had been willing, but it would be the last time. He tried to think of something to say, something that would change her mind or at least make her suspend her decision, before the intention became fixed. But there was no time to think. The need to escape precluded argument. All he managed to say was her name. |
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"Do not," she whispered. "Let me be. I will die, Simon. I will die." |
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There was a thin, tense quality to her voice that was more frightening, more eloquent of the disaster she skirted, than screams and tears. Simon surveyed his men again, saw they were ready, and gave the order to ride forward. He could do nothing now about Rhiannon. He told himself that the hills would cure her, that when she was safe and could run free again, she would accept him. But there was a sickness of disbelief in him. It was not fear of being captured or any other fear that had driven Rhiannon to reject him completely. It was something to do with him, and her eagerness for lovemaking had been the final, deciding factor in her mind, he feared. |
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All personal emotions were dulled as Simon led the troop out. They did not go too quickly at first. The foreriders of the searching groups were not very far away, and it would never do for them to hear a large group thundering off. As soon as a rise of land behind them formed a baffle, they picked up speed as well as they could in the dark, hoping that the slow sweep behind them would give them a good lead. They gained |
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