He turned just in time to see Lucilla exchange an amused look with Hilary. Melusine ripped strips off her under-petticoats and fashioned a pad, which she bandaged as tightly as she could over the wound, working swiftly, unperturbed by the gore. “You, too,” he said abruptly. She took a deep breath. She was as pale as death, but she seemed to have lost the power of movement. Loved his memory still, for all he knew. EPOCH THE FIRST, 1703.
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