Corey McFadden by Deception at Midnight

Author:Deception at Midnight
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

She awakened long before dawn. She had dreamed long and deep about her parents. She had heard the sound of their laughter and felt their love surrounding her, holding her safe again. Then she had become aware of pain intruding on her dreams, pain which she fought to exclude from her consciousness, willing herself to stay ensconced in her dream. But it was no use. Up, up she was pulled, love and comfort receding behind her, pain and unease growing stronger until she recognized them for a waking reality.

She lay curled within his arms. He was asleep. The bed was warm and comfortable, the sheets, silky soft. She could smell his scent—woodsy, smoky, a touch of sweet brandy. Idyllic, poetic. She wanted to die of misery.

How had she let this happen? What on earth had been going through her mind as she had let him touch her, take her, cause her to forget all that she had been brought up to believe was right and good? Nothing. There had been nothing in her mind at all but the fire of his touch burning through all her precepts, leaving them ashes on the altar of her lust.

She had no one to blame but herself for this mess. No, that was not entirely true. She would see Cousin John damned for his part in bringing her to this lost state. Well, fine. They could be damned together, because there was no getting around the fact that she had asked for this, that she had wanted it from the first time she had seen the earl rise from his bath. She recalled no demurring on her part last night, not even a token resistance that she could use to salvage her pride. No, she had been wanton and free with her favors, and she would have the rest of her grim life to pay for it.

And to think she had been aghast that Amelia had given this man a long, soulful kiss. Amelia was a nun compared to herself!

Her head ached; her side ached. And who was she today? What new masquerade must she assume this morning? Molly, the town whore? She felt sick in her heart at having to start all over again with a new lie, to abuse this good man’s confidence yet again. And yet what alternative did she have? None, really. Maude Romney was dead, and for good or ill, she was now Molly Ramsey, wounded, penniless, soiled, but alive and willing to work for her living. It wasn’t a great deal worse than being Mike, except for giving up the freedom afforded to the males in this society, whatever their class. But it had been unnatural and difficult to play a boy all the time, and the day would have come when she was finally expected to show signs of a beard and a deepening of her voice.

What would she do now? Radford was right about one thing, as much as it hurt her to admit it. She could not stay here.

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