“I didn’t need another glass of wine.” His hand fell back to her thigh. “You sure about that one?” She thought it over for a minute. “Wh...t if I wanted a martini or something else?” Felicia and Norm were watching their son with open curiosity. Hadley laughed at the inscrutable look on his face. “It could have happened, you know.” She took a sip of the chardonnay. “Thank you for the wine.” Marcus leaned to whisper devilishly in her ear, “You can always make them take it back.” Shaking her. A former commoner, now a slave to the infamous Sir Halton Hort of Frostmyre's battle academy - he was ripped from his foster parents care and flung into the frozen norths with no more than the cloths provided to him by his charge. 'No' he reflected solemnly 'Not ripped from, sold by.' It was true that his foster parents were falling on hard times, the soils weren't fertile and they had true born offspring to care for over him. He had been a helpful farmhand for them in the meanwhile, but all he. More

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