“His back was towards me,” Anna said. 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. The Night-Cellar. Conscience drove him to this side of the world, to this bed. The contest, however, though desperate, was brief. “There is something to be said for the lady-like theory after all,” she admitted.
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