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... slightly. "You said we were married, didn’t you?" she asked softly.

Elias straightened, towel forgotten in his hand. "I—yes, but you were angry, I thought—"

"Of course, I was angry." She smoothed the folds of her skirt, her movements deliberate, nervous. "You got us married without telling me. Who does that?"

He winced. "Me, apparently."

Her gaze flicked to him with his beautiful the damp hair, the clean shirt, the guilt written all over his face. Then she sighed ...

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