He remained standing by the stem of the proa, his glance roving investigatingly. He smothered it down with such a good will that the reaction set his heart to pounding. Maggot. Lucy heard a stir, but if Dawn Plote were to arise and come into the room, it could only mean two murders tonight. . Every drop of blood in her body glowed and expanded. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. “I must read him when I come out. ‘French? But what else?’ ‘I do not like Frenchmen,’ Melusine snapped.
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