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“Rhys leaned over and whispered. “Have a care, love. It’s already been slaughtered.��
Smile lines appeared at his eyes. “Now, if it were the roast at evening meal, then you’d have reason for your suspicions.��
That gave her pause. “Truly?��
He lowered his lips so close they nearly brushed the shell of her ear. “Does my mother strike you as one who’d tolerate a roast that is still mooing?”
― Christi Caldwell, To Tempt a Scoundrel