He tore his gaze away, aware of the quickening of his heartbeat. Heaven alone knows why. Even this man-hunting machine was willing to grant the boy his honeymoon. ’ ‘And your precious vicomte didn’t wish for the English one,’ said Charvill, acid in his voice. She hunted the markets for bread and treats so they could feast during the day. She nursed at his neck as he peacefully slumbered through being killed.
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