” “Then he—and Paris—lied,” Ennison answered. ‘You!’ ‘Yes, it is I, mademoiselle,’ he continued in his own tongue. A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. A strong arm pulled her closer, and the lips that mouthed her own in tender touches sent her senses reeling. Peste, where was her handkerchief? She remembered then that it had been lost in the struggle with Gerald. ’ He stared at the point, glanced at the fallen sword imprisoned by her foot, and only just looked back at her weapon in time to see it thrust at him again. ‘It is not easy.
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