He reached the top floor and ran down the corridor to the little dressing room at the end where he had lost her before. She felt terrible lying to him. After all, if one could wait twenty years or more in between bouts of lovemaking, one could certainly wait a few more days. She was about to rush to his side, when she saw his clenched hands rise and fall upon the sand repeatedly. ’ *** In the cosy little parlour that Pottiswick rarely used, Melusine paced restlessly to and fro. She doubted how she stood toward him and what the restrained gleam of his face might signify. He cocked an eyebrow.
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