‘Jacques, are you dead? Jacques, do you hear me?’ Melusine put her cheek to his lips, and felt the faint warmth of his breath. Such revelations she hoped would be considered out of place and inappropriate. He shook his head all the time. And yet—I love you. She found herself trying on the baubles he brought home, placing the silver rings upon her slim fingers, knowing that he would take up her hand and kiss it. He propped himself up on one arm, kissing her passionately. “What have you done to yourself?” he muttered. I don’t know. There are times when you make me feel a little thing at your feet—a young, silly, protected thing.
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