Her head tilted. “Broderick MacPherson,” she breathed. “Tell me I’m nae seein’ what I’m seein’.” “Can ye bluidy well answer the question, Annie? I didnae come here for—” “Ye’re jealous.” He snorted. “Rubbish.” “Aye. Possessive, too.” She chuckled and shook her head. “It’s like watchin’ a unicorn dance a reel with an elephant durin’ an eclipse, and I would have wagered every copper pot in my kitchen that it was impossible, but … there it is, plain as boiled tatties.”
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