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Rhiannon knew her half-brother and turned to look at Simon without apparent reluctance. A slow, appreciative smile dawned on her face. |
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"Heavens, how beautiful you are," she said. "A veritable work of Danu." |
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"I might say that as well for you, Lady Rhiannon," Simon rejoined, but his voice did not hold the light laughter with which he usually addressed and flattered women. |
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Close up she was even more impressive, although actually less lovely. Her nose was a trifle too long, her mouth too full and wide for absolute beauty; however, it was not possible for Simon to think of such things. Her eyes did not drop as a modest maiden's should; they seized him and held him boldly. They were large, almond shaped, tipped upward at the outer corners, and of a clear greena color Simon had never seen except on a cat. More intriguing still, she examined him with the frank, slightly contemptuous appraisal that a feline bestows upon humans. No blush mantled her cheeks, although her skin, denied the sun which tanned it in milder weather, was white as snow. |
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"Oh, you might say that and any number of other pretty things, I should think," she answered, laughing. "I imagine you are a great master at saying sweet things to women." |
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"I tell them what they wish to hear," Simon said, stung by her amusement. "What do you wish to hear? That your singing still sounds within me? That the bright glance of your eyes has blinded me to all other beauty? I will say it, and it is true. I am no liareven to women." |
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"How can you tell a woman what she wishes to hear and yet be no liar?" Rhiannon asked. There was no sneer in her voice. She sounded genuinely interested in the solution to such a paradox. |
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"Deep within, each woman knows her own beauty. There is always something lovely in a woman, unless |
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