They were true noblemen, men of the court. Panic leapt into his eyes as he brought his wrist up just in time to parry the blade. ‘You had better kill me, mademoiselle, because otherwise I shall end by strangling you. Opals. He thought rationally; that is to say, he thought clearly, as a child thinks clearly. You are my slave—and such you shall continue. My father died a year ago, by the way. Set on unravelling her secrets, Gerald pursues every possible clue—much to the indignation of Mademoiselle.
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