Diving towards it, he tried to press against the rivulet that was seeping from it, hampered mightily by Melusine’s fingers, which were grasping at his other hand. “I suppose things have changed?” she said. Not the explosive vigour of the north-born, but that which would quietly meet physical hardships and bear them triumphantly. She looked at him as he thrust deeply, his face contorted with pleasure as he watched her riding him. ’ ‘Well, don’t blame me if you get your head blown off. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor.
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