His five o’clock shadow was bristly against her fingers. “What of her? Have you quarrelled with her?” The girl shook her head. She felt the softest touch caress her cheek, and a wave of tenderness engulfed Melusine. Recovering herself, Melusine tucked the weapons out of sight, down into the deep holsters hidden under the petticoat of her riding habit, and went back into the house where Martha awaited her in some impatience. Until he felt a sharpness digging into his coat at the point of his heart.
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