Page 9
9
Franny
Franny blinked dumbly at the door. Her brain was moving much too slowly to fully comprehend everything that had just happened. She shivered, and a sore twinge flared between her thighs. Well, one thing was clear. She’d been bedded. She glanced down at her lap, a small streak of blood on her thigh. No longer a virgin.
And Rupert Winthrop? There was nothing proper about the way he bedded a woman. Her stomach swooped at the same time her heart rate picked up. Oh heavens, that had been…so pleasantly unexpected. With how hard he’d resisted, how perfectly put together he always was…she had assumed a boring joining where he did the necessary rocking—silent, of course—and then perhaps after he’d offer a droll “that was quite agreeable.”
Not. Even. Close.
He’d been like a man possessed. Something warm spread through her chest. He’d bitten her like he wanted to devour her. Her gaze trailed over the slight imprint of his hand on her hip. Other handprints flitted through her mind. Ones left on her wrists and arms from too tight grips.
With shaking fingers, she traced over Rupert’s handprint. Tears pricked her vision as a slight weight seemed to lift from her. In its place a heady, freeing relief. A punishing grip left this mark on her, but one from want and desire, not from hate and disgust.
Her shaking fingers slid up to the bite mark on her shoulder, her fingertips grazing over the slight impression there. And it was as if those marks, the sentiment behind them, helped the others in her memory fade. Not gone completely, but maybe with time…
She glanced back at the door. The door her husband had fled through. She closed her eyes and tried to remember what he’d said. What had occurred. It had all happened so fast, his restraint breaking, the look he’d shot her the second before he’d fallen on her. One dark with lust, glittering with dominance, with raw need. For her.
And then the way he’d claimed her body—granted, it had been painful, but she’d been expecting it to be. She hadn’t even cared. She felt the soreness and slight burn between her legs more now than she had during. Because being surrounded by him, his possessive grip anchoring her against him… A pulse picked up between her thighs again. It was like he couldn’t get enough, couldn’t get close enough. It mended a small, long-neglected corner of her battered heart.
But he’d left.
I cannot adequately express my regret for my deplorable behavior.
She gnawed on her lip. There was most definitely nothing to apologize for regarding what had just happened. The leaving part, though. She’d speak with him during the carriage ride tomorrow. They’d get this sorted out. She fisted the bed linens as something sparked in her chest. Dear Lord, it was that candle of hope. Burning stronger than it ever had before.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9 (Reading here)
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65