Mirabelle sat down, dropping into the cushions like a ball being caught in a large leather glove.
British BulldogHe tasted of whisky and his skin was rough where he hadn’t shaved, but Mirabelle kissed him back.
British BulldogIt was nearly ten years since the peace though her memories of the war still felt fresh.
British BulldogCovert operations relied on the unguarded slip, the unconscious choosing of one word over another.
British BulldogMirabelle was always an enigma, and he had the sense that if he pushed her, she’d bolt.
British BulldogVane grabbed me. “DuLac, let’s chat.” British-speak for “Stand still while I yell at you.
My Merlin Awakening