Lancelet chuckled, embarrassed. I must return to Caerleon. ld man's kindly eyes, she recalled that this was Igraine's father and would be great-grandfather to her babe. Of all the knights, I think only Mordred saw nothing, or if he did he kept it to himself.
Would that be such a tragedy, Morgaine? Lancelet asked quietly. Dearest child, you look tired-I know you have little love for crowds! She held a silver cup to Morgaine's lips, and Morgaine sipped the wine, then shook her head. She could almost feel his hungry hands on her breast, and it seemed as if the look he sent toward her must be audible. Most of the other women had long since lost interest and were gossiping about feats of prowess they had heard of; some were playing at dice in the
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