He smiled and raised my hand to his lips. “Have it your way. I will not trouble you further. Will you admit, however, that you did have a choice? You could have picked Morgan instead of Father?” I shook my head. “No, my son, there was never any choice.” I looked up and watched Fitzwilliam lead our daughter around on the new chestnut mare, his curls still falling over his forehead in that same enchanting manner they had all those years before. “Your father won my heart a long time ago. No other man ever had a chance.”
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