‘You damned little fool! How dared you steal my sword?’ Her eyes flew open. You must have figured that out by now. Melusine ripped strips off her under-petticoats and fashioned a pad, which she bandaged as tightly as she could over the wound, working swiftly, unperturbed by the gore. She slipped on a white clingy imitation silk tee-shirt, a sexy number that Shari had bought on super-sale at the Limited. There was nothing left now of the selfassured, prosperous man of affairs. “You’re getting too old to put things off, John. "You are my prisoner. And not on Melusine’s account, but to see Prudence, who had no use for a cavalier. I can’t explain—” They regarded one another, each blinded to the other.
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