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Mordred grunts, his eyes fluttering open after a few seconds and he smiles. “Good morning” he mutters, moving into a sitting position “you didn’t have to.”
“Mmmm. On our picnic, I think.” She tugs on his hair again. “You shall not escape.”
“Now, why on earth would I want to?”
“That,” Summer says, trying to get him to walk backward to the bed, “is a very good question, cariad.”