She silently willed him to stop his pacing, to calm down. "I believe he is conscious," she answered. " "I will—I will," replied Wood hastily. You care for me just a little, I know. “Forgive me,” he said. His hands came up, his face broke apart. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. “No,” she answered. "You'll be as good as your word, my charmer," whispered the executioner.
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