She donned her gloves. ‘This is not love, Marthe. She ran her gaze over him, and allowed her eyelashes to flutter down. My eyes are open to you. ’ ‘Merci. Water I need. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. And where was that devil? Had the soldiers found him? She could not think he had escaped, for she had only just made it into the passage as they entered the library.
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