She felt her chest trying to float up, but the blessed undertow, the dreaded reason why she was warned to never bathe in the ocean, sucked her feet down, putting the decision where it belonged, into the hands of God. ‘Tell me, my boy. There will be long stretches of idleness, heat, and enervation; and always the odour of drying coconut. Did I not say so, Hilary?’ Melusine’s glance shot across to the newcomer, and found a petite blonde standing there, very fashionably attired in a velvet mantel over an apple-green robe, the furred hood framing a face alive with mischief. Anyone else who finds out must be killed, otherwise, you insure death or worse for us. She was reasonably certain why. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?.
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