The unpleasant oily chill of fever overtook her body, and she watched in horror as Sebastian carried her to his bed on his shoulder like a sack of flour. ” “I want you to turn me. We can be married tomorrow in Paris. Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. ” “I do it—of my own free will,” said Ann Veronica, kissing his hand again. ’ ‘Parbleu,’ burst from Melusine indignantly.
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