Authors: Christine Young
He came around and touched the tear. "Don't cry. Whatever you do, don't cry," he whispered. "If it is that important to you, I'll listen."
He had never sounded so sincere and caring. He would listen, and then he'd be horrified. And he wouldn't want her. She would never again feel the burning heat of his touch.
"It happened a long time ago. I was headstrong and careless. Actually I was quite stupid. I didn't think I could ever be hurt. My brothers had always protected me, and I was on MacPherson land. But you know all that."
She paused, her fingers weaving themselves tightly together until her knuckles showed white.
"I would say you haven't changed much," he smiled through the tension and heavy air. "You're still stubborn and hasty with your decisions. I would never call you stupid though. Perhaps willful."
"There was a time, I didn't have a reason to live," she whispered. “I wanted to curl into a tiny ball and die.”
"No reason to live?" he asked, seemingly startled by what she'd said. “Enough.”
"Please, just hear me out." She rested a hand on his shoulder, imploring him with her eyes.
She didn't speak for a long time while she waited for his answer. The air was charged with energy and tension.
"Very well." He lay back on the bedroll, his fingers laced behind his head as if he didn’t care what she said.
Mercuric seconds passed while she struggled to find the best way to tell her story.
"I don't want sympathy. And you have to promise not to tell anyone," she began hesitantly.
"I don't make promises," he said, turning towards her before letting his gaze drift skyward once more.
"Please." She didn't want to have to beg for this small favor. But she never wanted her brothers to find out what Bertram did that day on MacPherson land.
"No," he said reluctantly showing the first real sign of impatience. He sat up and touched her beneath the chin. "There is always a reason to live, little fox. And no, I cannot make a promise I might have to break."
She turned away then looked back. It didn't really matter if he promised or not. She had to tell him before something happened he might regret.
"The day was beautiful, a brilliant sun shone down and the weather had been so dreary. I had been confined behind the castle walls for far too long," she said, growing a little braver.
"So you had to leave?"
She nodded. "I didn't go alone."
"You took one of your brother's men?"
"I took my maid. She didn't want to come with me. She told me it was too dangerous, but Bertram's men had not been seen in several weeks. I convinced her to go along because I wanted my freedom. I had been cooped up behind the castles walls for far too long."
"I see," he said. “You did not believe their might be bandits lurking in the woods? Or an enemy of your brother.”
"I did not. As I said I was stupid. But I pray that you will understand and will not look at me with hatred or disgust in your eyes. I could not bear that."
"You robbed some poor soul blind?" he queried, a grin on his face. "Ah, little fox, I should have guessed. Those nimble little fingers of yours could not be stilled even though you had everything your heart could have wished for."
"This is not funny. I do not take what I’m about to tell you lightly. And I would never rob anyone," she protested vehemently.
"But you did rob me. And at the tavern, you and your cronies robbed Jericho's men. Not something he took lightly, as we found out."
"I only robbed you of your papers, forged papers. You set a trap," she inhaled a ragged breath. "And so did Bertram."
"What about Jericho's mercenaries? They were robbed of their coin."
Frustrated she clasped her hands in her laps and shot him a defiant look. "Coin they had stolen. Anyway, I do not want to argue with you. Bertram knew I would grow tired of the confines of the castle, and so he waited near by, sending his men home to give the illusion of safety."
"I thought you had been falsely accused. Your actions gave me reason to believe the bounty on your head was not a lie," he returned to the circumstances where they first met.
"You don't have to defend yourself and what you did. I knew what the risks were. I’ve always known."
He grinned.
"My maid grew tired and stopped. I kept riding. It was so beautiful and green. There was no rain in sight. I dismounted--"
Lainie tried to swallow the lump in her throat and the tears welling up.
"Bertram attacked me, pushing me down, ripping off my clothes. I tried to fight him. Slade,” she swallowed hard then forced the words, “he-he--
“
raped
me.
"Sweet Jesu--" Slade broke off, standing up quickly. He was no longer relaxed but coiled and ready to spring. His hands were balled in tight fists. "Why didn't you tell me?" He sat down again as if trying for some semblance of calm.
After searching her face for a few tense moments, he pulled her into his arms, cradling her on his lap as if he held a small child. Tears ran down her cheeks. She could not stop the sobs that had not come when it happened.
Slade rocked her, his arms around her, shielding her from all the sins of the world. If only life were that simple.
"Hush, little darling. Don’t cry. I understand now." Tenderly, he kissed her tears away, wishing he'd not been such a horrible fool. He'd heard part of the story and never once thought Bertram had raped her. He had thought only the worst about Lainie. He cursed himself and for his callous actions toward her when all she'd done was protect
herself
.
"I won't ever hurt you," he told her, realizing the rape explained so many of her actions that were at odds with each other.
"I know," she said. "But you must hate me."
"Why would I hate you?" he asked pulling away from her so he could look at her face. "The only part that was your fault was defying your brother's orders. You should have listened to them."
"B-because I'm not--"
"Your virtue lies in your soul and your heart, nowhere else. It was not your fault."
She hiccupped and looked at him. He was smiling at her. "Lainie, I still want you more than ever. But I'm afraid I might hurt you. You've been through so much--too much. I don't want you to be afraid of me." He brushed a gentle kiss across her forehead. "Do you want to kiss me?"
"I do," she whispered. "But more than that I want you to believe in me. I need for you to understand."
Bloody hell, but he did believe in her. And he burned even hotter for her now that he knew why she'd held back. But he'd have to be ever so careful. He didn't want to hurt her. She'd been brutalized before. She was just as innocent as she had seemed.
"Why didn't you tell your brothers?"
"Because they would have killed Bertram. And doing so would not change what he did to me, but it would get them killed."
He touched his lips to her cheeks, tasting the salt of her tears then her lips. The kiss was not meant to seduce, but knowing how innocent and fragile Lainie was sent him over the edge. His body tightened with need, an inferno flamed hot and intense.
"Stop me anytime you want," he whispered to her. "Will you promise?"
"Slade," Lainie said softly. "I won't ask you to stop. I want you. I want you more than I could ever understand. But I'm afraid."
"Open your mouth," Slade said in a deep voice. "Kiss me the way I taught you. Let me see that you aren't afraid. I don't want you to ever fear me."
Shadows danced on Lainie's face. Where the sun licked through the trees, light glistened on her lips.
"More," he said, brushing his parted lips over hers.
Lainie trembled and did as he asked.
Slade's mouth closed over hers, and his tongue slid inside. He tasted salt tears and warmth, a loving woman who had been abused. He took her mouth as he meant to take her body, completely and so very gently, a seamless melding of flesh and liquid heat.
When Slade pulled open the laces to her shirt, the whisper of air across Lainie’s flesh made goosebumps slip down her arms. An exhilarating warmth of passion flowed sweetly within.
Until Slade stroked her breasts, Lainie hadn't realized how much they ached for his touch. He held her with a tender reverence that amazed her. His thumbs stroked and urged her nipples to hardened buds. She didn't realize she was no longer cradled in his lap and that he was lying half over her until his fingers plucked the taut nipples and waves of heat ripped through her, making her arch more thoroughly into his body.
"When we're through here, you won't remember anything but the pleasure," he murmured close to her ear. Then his mouth closed over hers again, sending another hot rush of pleasure through her.
She tried to cry out at the primal sensuality he evoked with his body touching hers, but the only cries that the deep mating of mouths allowed were small noises from the back of her throat.