Lucy tried not to notice the starched smell, overpowering and powdery. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes. She bolted upright as she heard footsteps rumble towards the door, cursing UPS for being so damn persistent in such foul weather. Give this fellow the slip, if you can, Jack. linked image back linked image back MADEMOISELLE AT ARMS Elizabeth Bailey © 2011 by Elizabeth Bailey All rights reserved. “I have been training myself to look askance at beautiful things. So you took my womb away, you took my baby! So I could be a monster! Because she was a monster! We are monsters!” He grabbed the top of the cannon away from her face.
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