Forever Mine by Charlene Raddon

Author:Charlene Raddon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Romance, Western Romance
ISBN: 9781476001142
Publisher: Tirgearr Publishing
Published: 2012-10-17T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Her toes were black. Hester could see them peeking out from under her skirts after she'd kicked off her shoes.

She poured the last of the hot water into the tub, set the kettle back on the stove, and tested the temperature with her elbow; her hands couldn't seem to tell blistering hot from warm anymore. She checked to be sure she had soap, a towel and her clean nightrobe. Locks clicked as she secured the three kitchen doors. The rustle of fabric followed the sound as she removed her clothes. She wobbled a little as she stepped out of the undergarments, her strength uncertain, as was common lately.

Only after her clothes had been hung over a chair back and she stood naked as God made her, did she allow herself a good look at her feet. It was as she had feared. Heels, arches, toes— black as midnight. And icy cold. They looked dead. A shiver ghosted over her.

Before Bartholomew’s last trip to Portland, she had blamed the dark color of her feet on the dye from her old black shoes. But he had bought her new shoes in the city; tan, Paris kid, button boots. No matter how she scrubbed her feet, they looked as if she’d rubbed coal on them.

There was no escaping it; God was punishing her. How could He be so unfair? Hadn't she suffered enough for her sin? She had been so young when Lenny Joe took her, had barely known what he was doing to her. Ever since that day, she had devoted her life to keeping her body pure. 'Course, there was the one time when she had gone to Bartholomew's bed, but surely that didn't count; they were married the next day. Only adultery and fornication outside of marriage counted as sins.

Whatever turned her feet black must be what caused the cramps in her legs too, and the constant pain and cold in her feet. Could it explain her unquenchable thirst? The loss of weight, no matter how much she ate? The nausea and diarrhea, the blurred vision, the sores that refused to heal?

Hester propped a foot on her knee so she could see it better. There was a red spot on her heel that was puffy and sore. She bent closer and saw that a blister had burst open. From the new shoes, she supposed. It looked more painful than it felt, but she'd noticed lately that her feet, like her hands, weren't worth a tinker's damn for feeling anything.

She climbed carefully into the tub and sank down into the warm water. Could Bartholomew be right? Was she being punished for denying him her bed? She had promised to love, honor and obey, but why in hell did that have to mean letting him rut in her body whenever he damned well wanted to? But maybe if he had her in his bed, he would stop lusting after Ariah.

He had snuck off to the woods that day and Hester reckoned that was where Ariah was too, 'stead of tending to her cooking as she shoulda been.

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