Bête, she told herself fiercely. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she panted, shifting wildly in his hold, so that he had all to do to keep her thus imprisoned. She limited herself to eating once a fortnight, until she discovered that she could go without comfortably for a month. Think! Had you not better hurry back before Sir John discovers? You are his wife right enough. ‘Yes, dear Nan, a flirtation. ‘Because he knows you for an imposter,’ Melusine flashed. Together they made their painful way to the door, not even checking, in the effort this cost both, on what Gosse might be doing.
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