’ ‘Between the devil and the deep blue sea, he were,’ agreed Pottiswick’s daughter. Wood in their favour. ’ ‘But you do not make love,’ Melusine pointed out. A single glance served to show the thief-taker how matters stood. She writhed in ecstasy as she wrapped her legs around his waist, then raised her knees to his shoulders. Spurlock understood that his vantage would be temporary; the Wastrel had been knocked down, not out.
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