All those years, she had despised him. All those years had been kinder, warmer, more purpose-filled because of her four-legged friend. At some points, her only friend. What if I always liked and admired you, Lucie. . . . I had wanted you for half my bloody life. . . . She had brushed his words aside instantly, because her temper had been high, and besides, who could ever really know with Tristan? And had she taken him seriously, what would it have done to her? She had known she could resist a handsome, wicked, clever, unexpectedly tender rogue. She had known she could not resist a handsome,
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