Laura woke to feel a tender ache between her thighs and a warm body wrapped around hers. Unsure of whether she should smile or panic, she laid perfectly still. What did I do? Pinching her eyes shut only made clips of the night before replay in her head. Her heart began thumping wildly.
“Good morning,” a breathy whisper flowed across the back of her neck. A thickly corded arm lying across her hip tightened, pulling her further against him. Based on the shaft of molten steel that was pressed against her lower back, she knew he was erect again.
“Morning,” she said dryly and wiggled away from him to sit on the edge of the bed. An overwhelming sense of dread moved over her and she placed her head in her hands. She knew she was still bare, and wanted to cover but in the glowing light of sunrise she couldn’t move, she couldn’t even look at the man who had rid her of her virginity. The man she’d asked to rid her of it.
Only whores and rape victims slept with men they were unmarried to. She was certainly not raped. The thought made her flesh heat. Memories of her begging him for more nagged at her. No, she wasn’t raped. He had done nothing she hadn’t wanted. Laura had always thought of herself as being beyond her time, but in regards to her virginity she was nothing. She had nothing. No man of worth would ever take her. Donovan had not offered her his hand, and even as he lay behind her silent, he still did not offer her anything, and why would he? He had gotten what he wanted. Now that he had it, there was no reason to wed her. Could she even be mad at him? She had allowed it all to happen and now he must think her a wanton woman of the night, not a woman worth marrying.
“Laura? Are you all right?”
She couldn’t answer and even as a single tear slipped down her face, she stood firm. “I need my clothing. Can you find me something?” Laura used the back of her hand to swipe away the tear and sharply inhaled as if it would rebuild her from the inside out.
“In the drawer over there. I took what was left of your clothing from your home.” He was quiet. There was no way he was mistaking that she was upset. He was always very intune to her moods.
“You were there?” She said quietly but refusing to turn and look at him.
“Yes. There wasn’t much left except for the bodies you left.”
She swallowed hard and snagged the wolf pelt off the top of the blankets before wrapping it around her body. What was there to be embarrassed about? He had seen it all, touched it all. Still, she felt as though she needed to cover herself and the fur made her feel safer somehow, stronger.
She bent over to open the drawer, feeling to solid wood handle under her hand. If only she were as sturdy as the oak dresser. If properly taken care of, it would never crumble, not like she was. She hadn’t taken care of herself. Her father would have been ashamed.
Yanking the drawer, she wanted to curse. Inside was a pillowcase, her pillowcase. There were delicate yellow flowers embroidered on the hem. Lifting it she let her fingers dance across the stitches. She had done the stitches many years past, years before she had allowed herself to be an object of shame. Flipping it over carelessly she dumped out the contents.
A long brown pair of leather riding boots fell to the floor with a loud thump. Pants and shirts fell on top and even a corset she wore just to keep her breasts in place while hunting. Having ample bosoms and a bow don’t work well. “I am surprised you didn’t bring gowns,” she said bitingly.
“I brought what was left. All of your other clothing had been stolen.”
“Wonderful.” Her teeth grit down and she dropped the pelt to the floor yanking on a pair of tight black breeches. Next was her corset. It would flatten her but she didn’t care about what she looked like. Turning suddenly she glanced at the floor before making her way over to Donovan. Without looking at his form she turned her back again. “Please tighten this. I am used to having someone help me with it.”
