“A quick glance about the camp showed her that the dead Saxons had been moved away. The clearing was as it had been. Rowland squatted before the fire with Wolff beside him, and she glared at them both. “My, you have been busy for a man sorely wounded,” she remarked caustically. “Good morn, damosel.” She ignored his greeting. “Pray, did your wound open?” He chuckled. “No, the Hun did the work,” he said, nodding toward his horse. “And the meat?” “Your dog provided that.” Brigitte turned a damning ...look on Wolff. “Traitor! Must you expend yourself to please him!” “Do you always talk to animals?” Rowland asked her with a sidelong look. “Only to that one,” she replied sourly. “Though it seems to do little good of late.” “I hope you do not expect him to answer you.” “Of course not,” she said huffily. “I am not addled, Rowland.” He frowned. “I did not give you leave to address me that way.” “I did not ask your leave.” His brows narrowed.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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