The man looked as though he would have liked to deny it, but could not. “You’re so cute. Thunder rumbled behind the manicured hills. He propped himself up on one arm, kissing her passionately. “I do. ’ Melusine hesitated. Mother and Son. The address was of course her destination, thousands of miles away, an infinitesimal spot in a terrifying space. Yet her aunt, with a ringed hand flitting to her lips and a puzzled, worried look in her eyes, deaf to all this riot of warmth and flitting desire, was playing Patience—playing Patience, as if Dionysius and her curate had died together.
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