In her case the barrier was not selfishness but the perception that her interest would be misinterpreted, naturally. And yet that could not be: it was a confession only in the event of his death. She clasped her hands over her mouth in a silent scream. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. ‘Jacques!’ Melusine dropped to her haunches beside his inert form, feeling for the wound. If the boy was legging it alone…. There was a strained, eager expression on his face. And I’d do it again for you if needs be.
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