‘Can’t you trust me a little?’ His touch sent shivers running through her, but Melusine did not withdraw her hand. Nevertheless, relief washed over her, her body rejoicing in the afterglow of twenty years of tension released. She had black hair, fine eyebrows, and a clear complexion; and the forces that had modelled her features had loved and lingered at their work and made them subtle and fine. People who would not go. ‘Parbleu,’ came indignantly from the lady. Through yet another doorway she observed an ancient silk brocade loom. ‘Does Charvill know that this Melusine of yours is here?’ The question distracted Gerald.
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