She brought her face to his chest, turning her head sideways so he would not notice her elongated canines. Gerald did not know who she was, but he knew who she was not. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. ‘Do you think I am afraid of a sword in the hand of a slip of a girl?’ For answer, Melusine lunged at him. Wood scarcely knew where he was. But it does not sound as if the girl that wears the name resembles either of her parents.
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