’ ‘This is not a new thing,’ Melusine snapped, goaded. ’ ‘Oh, don’t I? What do you have under all those petticoats, a holster?’ ‘But yes, and they are empty. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. He grabbed her wrist and prised the weapon from her fingers, ignoring her other hand that clawed at his to try to retain the trophy. ‘Do not beg my pardon.
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