He had almost forced himself upon her one night after a particularly bloody raid of a thatched cottage. ‘Melusine!’ Distracted, Gosse blinked and his eyes flicked away from Melusine’s just as she flung the fullness of her gathered petticoats in the way of his blade. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War. “After all, it’s our honeymoon. Darrell attempted to reply. “I wonder!” said Miss Stanley. “And yet in a very few weeks I shall have done with it all.
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