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CHAPTER I. . . In the early hours of the morning, unable to bear the suspense any longer, Melusine had ventured to explore the mansion, the lantern she had brought in hand, commenting to herself all the time on the state of the place and the difficulties of her task, and having no idea of the consequences she was bringing on herself thereby. Everything in the world had changed for her. Then she looked up at Brendon. I was his wife. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. But—if you are a friend of Mr. I will lay them all at your feet. CHAPTER III. To compare me to a starving pig. Next instant, Melusine’s blade sank into Gosse’s flesh.
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