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She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. What could I do?’ ‘Anything but to bring him to me,’ Melusine threw at him. ‘I did not think so. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. I told him Valade had tried to borrow money off me and asked if he could vouch for the fellow. ‘Why?’ ‘Why take me to France? Why trouble himself with me, when so easily he could leave me to this Monsieur Remenham to keep?’ To Melusine’s instant suspicion, Martha bit her lip, drew a breath, and avoided her charge’s gaze.
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