She had traversed perhaps three bookshelves, passed across the door that must lead to the hall, turned the corner, and was just about to reach the fireplace when she abruptly became aware that something under her fingers had felt wrong. . In seconds, they faced each other before the altar. ‘But my poor Jacques is wounded and—’ ‘All taken care of,’ interrupted Hilary. “I don’t believe there is one. But that instinct is severely dampened most of the time. Nicholas is dead. ‘I can see why you lost your place, young Kimble. It was wrenched away from Melusine’s clutching hands. ’ I wanted, as I have never wanted before, to take you up, to make you mine, to carry you off and set you apart from all the strain and turmoil of life.
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