It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. Drowning, her brain dizzy, Melusine clung to the source of the flooding warmth, her hands, no longer forcibly held, moving without will about the firm back. “We will try and make you happy, my dear, so that you may learn that lovemaking is perhaps a little more than your idea of a woman’s duty. I’ll need you to go back to the barracks and fetch more men up to town.
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