’ ‘Comment? How will it serve you to kill me?’ ‘I do not need to kill you. His eyes were closed. For was not Gerald a gentleman? An Englishman, whose services any female—excluding her own self so idiote— would be very happy to have. Drowning, her brain dizzy, Melusine clung to the source of the flooding warmth, her hands, no longer forcibly held, moving without will about the firm back. Gerald raised a questioning eyebrow. I’ll do it.
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