Chapter four
We disagree over the Werewolf of VondiumDelia hurled her slipper at me. Catching the silky scrap in my left hand I instantly hurled it back. She ducked, laughing at me, whipped off the other slipper and chucked that one at my head. When I raked out a hand to grab it she leaped the bed and was on me, bearing me down, ramming my back hard into the rug.
“D’you cry quarter, you fambly? Do you bare the throat?”
“Aye, aye, my love, I bare the throat. And my back’s digging in most uncomfortably.”
She kissed me lightly and then let me up. I wriggled around and sat up and put an exploratory hand down.
“More like digging into you!” she said, and laughed. I hauled out the big black riding boot and did not throw it at her. She sat up, flushed, radiant, divine. Well, there are no word
