A sunny patch of grass caught her eye, and she sank down and gave herself up to weeping. In finding her father it seemed that she had lost her free will and all chance of happiness. Even if Godric chose to turn his back on Hugh and Cecily, it seemed her father would never permit the match on which she’d pinned her hopes. Cecily was right: if she persisted in her pursuit of Godric she would wreck everything. An aching sense of loss, of desolation, filled Janna. Godric was lost to her; she would never see him again, never hear his voice, never have the chance to tell him how much he meant to her – how much she loved him. She would never feel the touch of his lips, the sweetness of his kiss – “Janna?” It seemed a dream that she could hear his voice through her distress. But his touch was real, as true as the sunlight warming her back and the cold ground beneath her. She raised her head to make sure of him. “Do not weep for Hugh.
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