’ ‘Ah, but I’m thinking as how this here house ain’t the best spot for an operation of that kind, missie,’ explained the sergeant, and Melusine noted that his men exchanged anguished glances. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. Because of the Dance. She gave up as he finished, spending himself in her mouth. ‘You would read my mind?’ Gerald was pretty certain he already had, but he did not say so.
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