They looked at him, waiting. With a shudder, she made herself concentrate on her knitting; giving way to anger was weakness. He was an even-tempered man, though. Even by moonlight, she could see his frown as he studied her.
To his shock, that was simple truth. Stepper will do just fine. The shiny black coach was waiting in the courtyard behind a patient team of six matched grays. That they were his was plain as much by the way he eyed them and nodded as by the lack of a white pennant/The Band
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