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10cf746e54 She’d assumed that, over time, he would find his way to her side. By deliberate design, he hadn’t set eyes on her for more than two years; he’d hoped the inexplicable grip she seemed to have on his psyche would fade if it wasn’t fed—if his eyes didn’t see her, if he didn’t hear her voice, if his awareness wasn’t teased, abraded, and impinged on by her nearness. I don’t think she had time to treat the Bradshaws at all—they’re still very ill.” Lucilla blinked. Part prayer, part meditation, part simply communing with the land around her—and with the deity that claimed it as Her own—the quiet moments, as always, left her feeling anchored, more assured. Thomas understood Manachan and Manachan understood him, and that understanding sprang from something deep in their bones.It was precisely that understanding that made Brad-shaw's letter so difficult to comprehend.Not the detailsthey were plain enough. “Go and be my eyes and ears, boy.
“Just a day or so,” Nolan replied. He regarded them for a moment, then picked up the sheets, folded them, and set them in the bottom drawer to the left, where he kept all correspondence relating to the estate. Manachan snorted dismissively. Although Quentin was still fully active in the firm, Thomas and Humphrey saw themselves as the ones to grow the company into the future, something Quentin openly encouraged. A tap on his door had him glancing up. Thomas had been—and still remained—closer to Manachan than even to Quentin, whom he saw every day. They are sight-hounds, and also track on the ground by scent, and as their name suggests, were specifically bred to hunt deer in the rugged terrain.