“Only you are the woman I love, and you are in trouble. She looked steadfastly out. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. ‘I have said it is not stolen,’ snapped Melusine indignantly. The same teardrop bust, the same long waist, the same thick legs.
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