She reached inside the wide ruffle and pulled out a little vial. โPoison?โ asked Lady Maccon, tilting her head to one side. โCertainly not. Something far more important: perfume. We cannot very well have you fighting crime unscented, now, can we?โ โOh.โ Alexia nodded gravely. After all, Madame Lefoux was French. โCertainly not.
Gail CarrigerThe Gamma paused. โYou have a crazed werewolf in your wine cellar?โ โYou can think of a better place to stash him?โ โWhat about the wine?
Gail CarrigerWith a resigned shrug, she screamed and collapsed into a faint. She stayed resolutely fainted, despite the liberal application of smelling salts, which made her eyes water most tremendously, a cramp in the back of one knee, and the fact that her new ball gown was getting most awfully wrinkled.
Gail CarrigerLord Maccon asked meekly, shifting against her in a manner that ensured she realized the nibbling had affected his outsides just as much as her insides. Alexia was partly shocked, partly intrigued by the idea that as he was naked, she might actually get to see what he looked like. She had seen sketches of the nude male, of course, for purely technical purposes. She was given to wonder if werewolves were anatomically bigger in certain areas.
Gail Carriger