Owning Jillian: A Historical Lesbian BDSM Novella by C.H. Roquel

Author:C.H. Roquel [Roquel, C.H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Host of the Hills
Published: 2017-05-15T03:00:00+00:00

6

Jillian refused to come down for dinner, and Moira didn’t want to force the issue. She didn’t have the strength. A tray had been sent up and when it came back down again it was empty, the footman bringing a message from Daisy, the maid, that she had watched Jillian eat every bite without complaint.

And now it was bedtime. She knocked on Jillian’s door and entered, finding Daisy sitting by the fire and Jillian in bed reading. Daisy was supposed to sleep in the little room off to the side, but Moira wasn’t convinced that was good enough. She didn’t trust Daisy to pay close enough attention to Jillian. Why should she? It wasn’t like she cared for her or even knew what she was dealing with.

“You can go. I’ll stay with her tonight.”

Daisy gathered her things and left quietly. Jillian put her book down and sat up, watching Moira warily, as if she were a ghost that had materialized in the room. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t trust Daisy to keep you safe.”

“Are you anticipating a burglary?” she asked, sarcasm in her tone.

“I don’t trust you to not harm yourself.”

Jillian smiled, the expression transforming her face, making her look younger and even more beautiful. Moira dropped her gaze, not wanting any more temptation than she already felt. “Do you know what’s a good remedy? Laudanum. Make sure I sleep like the dead.”

“No.”

“Fortunately for me, they’d only just started giving it to me. Another month and I’m not sure I could have survived without it.”

“You would have. You’re strong.”

Jillian rolled her eyes and flopped back on the bed. “Oh, please. Spare me your pep talks and encouraging words.”

“Why did they start giving it to you?”

Jillian levered herself up so she was resting on a propped elbow. “No reason.”

“Don’t lie.”

“Then don’t ask. If you’ve read the file, then you don’t need to ask me now, do you?”

Moira walked to the edge of the bed, shrugging her bathrobe off her shoulders. She wore her most modest nightgown, old and dull, it buttoned to the neck. Jillian’s gaze was searing as she took in Moira, looking at her from head to toe, lingering on the soft weight of her unbound breasts. “I want you to leave.”

“Would they leave you alone at the asylum?” Moira asked, the question rhetorical. Jillian grabbed her book and put it on the nightstand, blowing out her candle as she turned away, giving her back to Moira and closing her eyes as if she were going to sleep.

She was grateful is was such a large bed, the last thing Moira needed was to wake up in the night coiled around her.

Moira pulled the covers back and lay down in the chilly bed, her feet freezing. A tumult of emotions went through her as she lay there. A queer excitement, as if her body remembered what it was like to lie in bed with Jillian.

Sadness over where things were between them and grief at the reason for her needing to be here.

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