She forced herself not to think of John. ‘You will keep yourself utterly quiet,’ he instructed, a growl in her ear as they headed for the door. She crawled into her small bed, dizzy with the thoughts of him, of kissing him. ‘He was our first commander, and a more stiff-necked—’ ‘Exactly so,’ concurred Lady Bicknacre. ‘French? But what else?’ ‘I do not like Frenchmen,’ Melusine snapped. White will present her bill.
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