That wasn’t even the worst thing. The Magdalene. The strong fingers of one hand secured both her wrists there, and Melusine found herself chest to chest with him as he threw off his hat, and began to pat at her petticoat, searching for tell-tale protrusions. There are boats on the lake and shady depths and wildernesses of pine-wood. “Alone, dear?” “Yes, aunt. The girl’s gaze met his in interested inquiry. What matters it? My servant, he is wounded—and by a Frenchman, if you wish to make an arrest.
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