He could see lust virtually dripping from the dark-haired boy’s maw as she teased every last note from her shuddering violin, the devil in a black skirt. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair. “Turn me. Wily little devil she is. I gather you wish to go up in some fantastic get-up, wrapped about in your opera cloak, and that after the festivities you propose to stay with these friends of yours, and without any older people in your party, at an hotel. Gerald caught the look and slipped the weapon into his pocket.
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