Kristen turned toward the bed to get the gown, but took only one step, then stopped abruptly. The green velvet was spread out on the bed so she could see it clearly, including the pearl border. But even if it wasn’t, she would have recognized the material of this particular gown. It was her favorite, for her mother had made it for her, and her mother hated to sew, which was why the gown was so special to Kristen. Brenna had spent many long hours on it last year to give it to her daughter for the winter solstice feast.
“What are you waiting for?”
Kristen glanced over her shoulder at him to see that he had not turned his back on her, but had been watching her. She felt a trap as surely as if the hidden door had already sprung open. There could be only one reason he would want to see her in that gown. He thought it was hers. And no gown like that would belong to a whore. He must be thinking just that.
She had every right to be suspicious of his motives. She would be a fool to hide the fact that she knew what he was about. It was too obvious.
She decided to attack. “What does this mean?”
“What does what mean?”
She faced him, her eyes narrowing at his deliberate evasiveness. “Why would you want me to try on such a gown, milord?”
“I told you why.”
“Aye, to see if it fits me. And if it does, will you give it to me? I think not. So what is the purpose?”
“’Tis not your place to question my motives, wench.”
Irritation bubbled to the surface. “Tell that to your slaves who are born slaves! You forget who I am!”
“Nay!” he shouted at her. “’Tis who you are that is in question!”
“Again?” She feigned surprise now, but was in fact groaning inside to have his suspicions out in the open. “What has a gown to do with who I am?”
“’Tis yours, is it not?”
She wanted to curse him for being so perceptive, but smiled at him instead. “Is that what you think? Next you will be saying I am a virgin.”
“Are you?”
“Would you like to find out firsthand, milord?” she asked provocatively, daringly, playing the part, but praying he would not call her bluff. Her sexual aggression had angered him before, and it did so again now. He glowered at her in answer, and she laughed, pressing her point. “Come now, milord. How can you think that someone like me could own a gown as fine as that one? ’Tis a gown for a princess, or a rich merchant’s wife.”
“Or a whore with a rich lover who is too generous!” he snapped, not giving up.
Kristen gave him a saucy grin. “You give me more credit than I deserve, Saxon. Truly, you flatter me. But I assure you that if I had ever had a rich lover, I would not have let the fellow get away from me.”
“Very well, you have denied the gown is yours. Now appease me and put it on anyway.”
Curse him for a stubborn, pigheaded…“I will not. ’Tis cruel of you to ask me to.”
“Why?”
“’Twould be a luxury beyond measure to feel that velvet against my skin after wearing your coarse slave rags. But for how long can I wear it? Only until your ridiculous notions about me are satisfied,” she answered for him. “Then you give me back the rags. Is that not cruel?”
Royce smiled at her. It was the first time she had ever seen him smile. It eased the lean hardness of his face, and made her heart feel as if it had flipped over.
“You have a way with words, wench, and an answer for everything. But you overlook one thing. In your position, you have no decisions or choices to make. You do as you are bid, no matter what is bid, whether it seems cruel to you or not. Is that simple enough for you to understand?”
“Aye.”
“Then put the gown on.”
He had spoken in an agreeably soft tone, but this last was stated quite firmly. He was determined to see her in that gown, no matter what she said. And what he would see if she put it on, was that it fit her like a second skin, perfectly. He would know it was hers. He would know she had lied. If he could ask her tonight if she was a virgin, then something had already made him suspect that she was not a whore. It was proof he wanted, proof he was set on having, one way or another, before she left this chamber.
He was wrong about one thing. She did have a choice to make. She could put the gown on and watch him turn cruel and vengeful, and rape her viciously just on principle, because it was what he said he would do if she was a virgin. Or she could entice him to make love to her in passion, because he wanted her, as she wanted him.
Either way, she knew the time had come. She was going to lose her innocence tonight. And the choice was simple. She could not bear for her first encounter with a man to be something she would remember with loathing. Royce desired her even though he was loath to admit it. She desired him. Their joining could be beautiful. She refused to let it be otherwise, especially for this first time. If he had to find out she was a virgin, it had to be after the fact. It would not matter afterward. And if she were lucky, it would not matter to him then either. But even if it did, she would have other defenses then, and the advantage of knowing him intimately.
