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. "Some other time. Draconniel tonight?"
Moran glanced pointedly at the niche behind the
tapestry. "I'll be observing the boys tonight. Over dinner? It
would be my pleasure." And, oddly, it was a pleasure. At
least Rakiel was someone to talk to.
The oddity didn't escape Rakiel. " 'Your pleasure'?
Really, Moran, you must be starved for company."
*****
HE WAS LONELY FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS
LIFE. HE SPENT MOST OF THE SUMMER WITH HER.
FIRST HE TOLD HER ABOUT PLACES HE'D
VISITED, THEN HE TALKED ABOUT TALISIN AND
HOW IT HAD HURT TO SEE HIM DIE IN SOME MINOR
SKIRMISH WITH A BUNCH OF GOBLINS.
FINALLY HE TOLD HER HIS DEEPEST SECRET:
THAT HE WAS NO LONGER SURE WHAT BEING A
KNIGHT MEANT, AND THAT HE WONDERED
WHETHER OR NOT, BY DOUBTING THE MEASURE,
HE HAD VIOLATED THE OATH.
LORAINE LAUGHED, AS SHE OFTEN DID, AND
TOLD HIM HE WAS TOO SERIOUS. HE TRIED TO
RUFFLE HER HAIR, AS HE OFTEN DID, AND AS
ALWAYS SHE DUCKED AWAY UNDER HIS HAND.
EVERY MORNING THAT SUMMER, MORAN WOKE
UP ANGRY. AT NIGHT, ANGER TURNED TO PASSION,
AS IT SOMETIMES DOES TO MAKE AGING MEN FEEL
YOUNG. HE LAY AWAKE FOR HOURS THE NIGHT
LORAINE, LEAPING UP, KISSED HIS NOSE (HE
CAUGHT HER, AS HE ALWAYS DID) AND SAID, "I
HOPE YOUR HONOR IS NEVER AS SOFT AS YOUR
TOUCH
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