Julius brushed his lips against her ear. “If I were to give you what you asked”—he yanked the strings tight—“give you a night of pleasure so intense you’ll beg for it to end, only to beg for more …” The strings slid through the next pair of holes, squeezing her ribs, holding her together.
“Yes?” she whispered.
His teeth scraped her neck, and she jumped.
“What would you give me in return?” he asked.
Amanda chewed the inside of her cheek. Wouldn’t he be getting what he wanted, what all men wanted, at the same time? “Anything you wish.”
“Anything?” With one hand, Julius gripped the laces and tugged her back into his chest. With his other hand, he palmed her belly. Then slid his hand lower to delve between her thighs.
Amanda started and rose to her toes. Sensation flooded her, but she didn’t know what to do with it.
“Easy.” Julius held her close. He rubbed his palm up and down her most intimate of areas, and sparks danced around her body. It was like she’d walked into a bonfire. It felt so good that it couldn’t be right. Amanda gripped his pant leg, not knowing if she should push him away or try to give him the same caress. Not knowing if she should fight or submit. Indecision tore through her, and the back of her eyes burned with the not knowing.
He gave one last squeeze to the apex of her thighs and released her. “How do you expect to give your body to a man when you jump at the first touch?”
Amanda swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I grow tired of your trials.”
“Perhaps I am being unfair.” He pulled at her stays’ strings, the constriction easing her muscles. She could relax into the bindings and not worry about coming apart. He yanked again. “But a woman like you doesn’t just offer herself up on a silver platter. I need to know how far you can go, for both our sakes.”
He still saw the old Amanda. The woman who, though by no means of his station, had been gently born and bred. A woman who shouldn’t even think of such things as laying with a man, much less speak of it. But that woman was gone and buried. Amanda wasn’t sure she’d even want her back.
She waited eagerly for the next hiss of string rasping against fabric. For the feel of his strong fingers binding her tight.
“Can women enjoy it?” she whispered. “I’ve heard some women say so. And …”
Brushing her hair over her shoulder so it lay heavy on her breast, he rubbed her shoulder. “And?”
She held her breath. She never spoke of this. Of what her father did. Of her time in prison. She might repulse him with her honesty. She stared at the door to her room. Her life was a series of closed doors.
She exhaled slowly. If she was going to disgust him, might as well do it now and move on. There wasn’t much left of her heart to break.
“There was a guard at Newgate. He wasn’t like the others. He actually asked.” She focused on the door handle, not the man standing an inch behind her. It was gold, like everything in Montague’s house, with delicate filigree scrollwork around the edges. She’d broken herself of the habit of locking herself in at night, but the key still protruded from the keyhole. A reminder of how uneasy in mind she’d been. Or of how far she’d come.
“I didn’t say yes. I didn’t say anything. And when he spread my legs, well …”
Julius dug his fingers into her shoulders. Another binding that made her feel secure.
She turned in his grip and met his eyes. There was no disgust, only kindness. “I didn’t enjoy it. But I didn’t hate it like I did every other time a man touched me. It gave me hope that maybe, maybe someday I could feel normal.”
“There is nothing wrong with you, Amanda. But giving yourself to the first available man won’t prove anything.” He gathered up the gown and dressed her. “And tempting me can only end badly. I’m not the man for you, whatever I may wish. And I’m not as strong as I’d like.” He smoothed the fabric down her back. “Breakfast is ready whenever you wish to come down.” With one last squeeze to her shoulder, he turned and strode from the room.
Amanda pressed her palm to her breastbone and rubbed at the ache beneath. He hadn’t run away in revulsion, but he’d run just the same. She gathered up her stockings and boots. Liz made it seem so easy with Marcus. Two people in perfect step together. Amanda felt like she was dancing to an entirely different tune than Julius.
She wasn’t looking for forever. Marriage truly was out of her reach. But was it wrong to hope for just a bit of that connection between a man and a woman? To experience a touch that brought more than pain?
Perhaps, for her sins, she was destined to always be on the outside looking in.
***
Julius tossed the morning paper on the table and stood when Amanda entered the room. With her creamy skin and dark hair, she looked lovely in the simple green morning gown. Not for the first time he wished he had noticed her during her two seasons. Amanda in a ball gown must be a stunning sight. And if he’d known her then, he might have been able to prevent so much of her heartbreak.
It was difficult, but he kept his expression even. So many insults had been laid upon this woman. So much cruelty. Rage coursed through his veins at the injustice of the world. Her father was already dead, nothing could be done there. But the prison guards that had dared touch her, they would be dealt with.
That last one she’d spoken of, the one who’d given her hope. That one he might let live. He’d break all his bones, of course. But hope was a precious gift regardless of its source. It deserved some mercy.
Julius knew what it was to be trapped, subject to the whims of your captors. That Amanda knew it, too, broke his heart. But she didn’t need to see his anger, his vengeance. So, he schooled his features into a welcome.
