The strong fingers of one hand secured both her wrists there, and Melusine found herself chest to chest with him as he threw off his hat, and began to pat at her petticoat, searching for tell-tale protrusions. "He's a base, deceitful, tyrannical, hoary-headed libertine—that's what he is. Then he got up and left her. ‘The credentials, milor’,’ he ventured.
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