He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. ‘You’ll come with us and get yourself safe back home to your convent, understand?’ ‘But wait,’ begged Melusine, hanging back. ’ He held his hands out of the way, surrendering his chest for her assault. He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him. This gloom was impossible. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud.
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