‘Can’t you trust me a little?’ His touch sent shivers running through her, but Melusine did not withdraw her hand. The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. The man muttered something inaudible, and gathered up the reins.
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