Time to heal, p.13
Time to Heal, page 13
“He didn’t stop.” Skahr’s voice was flat.
She shook her head. “Not until he was…finished.” Her stomach clenched and she squeezed herself tighter. “By then my screams had drawn the rest of the party to us and he said…Jack said…” She fought for a moment to get the words out. “He said I had tempted him—that I had offered myself and he was simply taking me up on that offer. He acted like I wanted what he did to me!”
Her jaw was trembling now and something hot and wet was stinging her eyes.
“I didn’t want it,” she gasped and the words came out in a sob. “I never wanted it! I didn’t even know what he was doing to me! Until it was too late…too late…”
She crumpled in on herself, rolling into a ball on her side, her eyes shut tight as the tears came. She cried as she had that day in the park, cried for the pain and shame and fear and for the way her life had changed forever afterwards.
Behind her, she heard Skahr shifting indecisively.
“Emmeline,” he murmured. “Delora…” One big hand rested tentatively on Emmeline’s heaving shoulder and she surprised herself by pressing close to it rather than jerking away. The aftermath of rape—of any attack—was a lonely business, she thought. The feeling of being violated, of being vulnerable to the world with no one to understand what you were going through was the loneliest feeling in the world.
Everyone had pulled away from her afterwards. None of her friends were ever allowed to visit her again—not that they wanted to. Even her lady’s maid—who was Emmeline’s age and very like a friend—had been taken away and she had been confined to her room with no one to talk to, no one to confide her fears to. No one to hold her as she cried.
Now the big Kindred behind her seemed to offer the comfort she had been lacking for so long. And Emmeline found she didn’t have the strength to refuse it.
Turning towards him, she buried her face in his broad, bare chest and gave into the tears completely.
“I never wanted it,” she sobbed, the grief wracking her—wringing her out like washing through a mangle. “No matter what he said, I never wanted it!”
“Of course you didn’t.” Skahr’s voice was a low, gentle rumble and he rubbed a big, warm hand up and down her spine soothingly. “Of course you didn’t, delora.”
Then he simply let her cry, stroking her shaking shoulders and holding her against him as she wept and wept as though her heart was breaking all over again. It was a long time before he spoke again—not until she had almost cried herself out did he comment on what she had told him.
“He was a male without honor. The lowest of the low. His life should be forfeit for what he did.”
“Oh, it was.” Emmeline swiped at her eyes and looked up at him. “Richard called him out and shot him for me. He…he was the only one who listened to me. Who cared about me after I was ruined,” she added, sniffing.
“Do not call yourself that.” Skahr’s voice was a low growl. “You are not ruined—bruised and battered perhaps, but not broken beyond repair. What was done to you should not determine your status in any way.”
“But it does—in my world, anyway.” Emmeline sniffed and shook her head. “I will never be welcome in polite society again. Although I would have been—if I had married Torrington as he wished me to. As my parents wished me to.”
“He had the gall to suggest a Joining after he attacked you?” Skahr’s tone was incredulous.
She nodded. “It was why he attacked me in the first place. I had been resisting his suit for months. He knew—or thought he knew—if he had me, I would have no choice but to marry him.”
“But you chose not to,” Skahr said.
“That’s right.” Emmeline lifted her chin. “I refused to be married to my attacker, though my parents tried to force me to marry him. They might have succeeded but I asked Richard to call him out for me and so he did. He shot Torrington dead and that was the end of that.” She sighed deeply. “Of course, shortly after that it became clear Jamie was on the way. And that was when my mother threw me out of Hastings Hall and I had to make my own way in the world.”
“Your own mother forced you out?” The look on his usually stoic face was one of pity and incredulity. “After you had been attacked and were expecting a child?”
“She threw me out because I had been attacked and a baby was on the way,” Emmeline corrected him. “She said I had already done enough to stain the family’s good name and she wished never to see me again.”
He shook his head. “How could any mother do such a thing to her child? Among my people it would be considered a great shame.”
Emmeline sighed. “Among my people, I was the one with shame. I still am, I guess. Though the people I live among now don’t care about such things.”
“Mother Griffith and the other females who live in her house?” he asked curiously.
“Yes.” She nodded. “Mother Griffith found me in the park after my mother threw me out. I was almost attacked again but that time I managed to fight the man off with a branch. She saw the way I whipped him and decided I would be a good fit for her flagellation bordello.”
“You certainly have a good arm,” Skahr remarked thoughtfully. “Though my skin will not bear the marks of a beating, I felt it well enough.”
“I don’t think I ever apologized for that sufficiently.” Emmeline felt a hot blush rise to her cheeks. “I am so sorry I mistook you for one of the Jonnies.”
He shrugged, his broad shoulders rising with the movement.
“It matters little. You didn’t hurt me. And I suppose it was a natural misunderstanding if you beat every man you see. Do you?” he asked, curiously.
Emmeline sighed again and ran a hand through her tangled hair wishing for a brush.
“Most of them. Some of them wish to be made to dress as women and forced to do domestic tasks. While others wish to grovel on the ground and kiss or lick my boots.” She made a face. “It just depends upon their preference.”
Skahr looked confused.
“I don’t understand. Why would they wish such things?”
“I don’t know,” Emmeline said honestly. “Mother Griffith says she believes it is because some of them were punished excessively at school or at home as children and they miss it. Who knows why anyone wants to be beaten? Or why anyone wants to beat them?”
“Do you like doing it? Beating them?” There was still no judgment in his voice—only curiosity.
“I did at first,” Emmeline said honestly. “I was filled with so much rage—so much hurt at what had been done to me by Torrington that I wished to make the entire male sex pay for his sins.” She sighed. “But after having Jamie, I found I could not hate all males quite as much as I had. Though I still do not trust them…much,” she added, her eyes flicking up to his and then away again.
Skahr seemed to take her meaning.
“I do not blame you for your mistrust,” he rumbled. “And I understand your reluctance to sleep next to me now that I know you have a clouded past.”
“A clouded past? Is that what you call it? Instead of ruined?”
He nodded. “It reflects no judgment on the female who has been hurt but it does allow those who are around her to understand that she has undergone violence and has reason for wariness.”
“So…there are women like me—women who have gone through what I went through—among your people?” Emmeline asked.
He frowned. “Not many for such things do not happen often—at least in my Clan. Any male who attacks a female is immediately stripped of all weapons and clothes and cast out and all his possessions are forfeit to the female he attacked. A male wandering naked and Clanless will not survive for long unless some other Clan agrees to take him in. Which does not often happen, since no one wants an abusive male in their Clan.”
“That’s amazing,” Emmeline breathed, frankly impressed. How was it that his frankly primitive society could be so much more progressive than her own civilized one?
He shrugged. “It is the way of my people. I think it is fair—the Goddess gave males superior strength in order to protect the females they cherish, not to hurt or ravage them.”
She sighed. “I wish my people felt the same way. I wish they felt the way your people do about a lot of things. Do…?” She hesitated, uncertain.
“What?” In the firelight, Skahr’s blue-ringed eyes shone with special brilliance. “Ask, delora,” he murmured. “Whatever question you have, ask it.”
She wondered what “delora” meant—he had called her that several times now and it seemed to be a kind of pet name. But something more important was on her mind.
“When I was talking with your sister earlier—er, I mean your mother’s daughter—she told me something which seemed difficult to believe. Do…do the men of your Clan really marry or Join with women who have already had children? I mean I know they do,” she added hastily. “But I mean, do they really welcome such a development? They truly do not care if a woman has already had a child out of wedlock?”
“Bringing a child already conceived to the Joining Hearth is considered a blessing,” Skahr said seriously. “It is also seen as a sign of the female’s fertility. So yes, a male is proud and happy to Join with such a female.”
As he spoke, he gave her a penetrating look which made Emmeline feel hot and cold all over for some reason. She became aware that they were still lying quite close together, facing each other in the firelight. He was no longer touching her, as he had been when he held her while she cried, but the warmth of his big body radiated against hers, heating her almost as much as the fire at her back.
There was something about the big Kindred, she thought to herself. An inner peace—a willingness to listen without judgment, coupled with a deep, quiet strength which meant he didn’t have to posture and pose like so many men did.
He knows who he is and he is comfortable with himself. I wish I could be comfortable with myself, instead of always feeling so ashamed, she thought longingly.
“I would pay well to hear your thoughts just now,” Skahr murmured, breaking into her musings. “Your eyes are full of them.”
“I was just thinking I wish I could feel comfortable being who I am,” Emmeline said truthfully. “But how can I? I’ve had a child out of wedlock and I’m a whore.”
His eyebrows came down low over those intense eyes.
“Do not call yourself such a thing,” he rumbled.
“Well, I’m not the kind of whore who sells her body to men,” Emmeline said candidly. “But I do live in a brothel and provide services to them. In my society, there is little difference in what I do and what the women of more conventional brothels do.”
He shrugged. “You beat males who wish to be beaten. I don’t see the shame in that—for you or for them, though I do not understand the need to be beaten.”
“That’s remarkably open-minded of you.” Emmeline looked at him speculatively. “You really feel that way? You don’t judge me for what I do?”
“Why should I?” Reaching out, he brushed his knuckles lightly over her cheek. “You do what you have to in order to survive, delora. To survive and care for yourself and your baby. How could I judge you for that?”
Emmeline felt her breath catch in her chest at his feather-light touch. It occurred to her that he smelled really good—a warm scent like sandalwood and pine and dark, clean, male musk—that made her want to get closer to him, though she knew she shouldn’t.
“What…what does that mean? That name—delora?” she asked, her voice sounding slightly breathless.
For the first time, he looked discomforted.
“It is what we call a ‘sweet name’—a term of affection a mother may call her child or a male may call his female.”
“And it means…?” Emmeline prompted him.
“It means cherished one.” His forehead creased. “I hope you are not offended that I called you this. It just…slipped out.”
“I don’t mind,” Emmeline murmured and found that it was true, she didn’t. For a moment their eyes met and held, then she looked away again. “Thank you for not judging me,” she whispered, tracing one finger tentatively over his broad, bare chest. “Thank you for not calling me ugly names or hating me for what I am…for what I’ve done.”
“It’s not what you’ve done but what was done to you,” he corrected her gently. “And you are not to blame for that, Emmeline.”
“But I am to blame—at least some.” Her eyes flicked up to his again and then back down but not before she caught his frown.
“What do you mean? You told me you didn’t want what the attacker did to you.”
“I didn’t!” Emmeline said hastily. “I don’t mean I invited him in any way because I didn’t—I never would have.”
“Then how could you be to blame?” He sounded genuinely mystified.
Emmeline took a deep breath.
“Because it was a punishment. For…for other wrongs I had committed.” She glanced up at him again and saw that his brow was wrinkled in confusion. “What wrong could you possibly have done that was so bad?” he asked.
“I…”
Emmeline bit her lip. Was she really going to talk about this—to tell him everything? She didn’t want to and yet…a part of her did. A part of her needed to confess and so far Skahr hadn’t judged her for anything. It seemed safe to tell him and so she heard the words tumbling out.
“I…touched myself,” she said, wincing as she heard the words out loud.
“Touched yourself? How?” Clearly he still didn’t take her meaning.
“In…in my secret area. Between my legs.” Emmeline swallowed hard. “I knew it was wrong but I did it anyway,” she went on in a rush. “I knew I was not meant to do anything but wash myself—as briefly as possible—in that area. But, well…it felt good. So I…I got into the habit of doing it at night sometimes when I couldn’t sleep. I knew it was wrong, I knew there would be a punishment. I just…” she cleared her throat. “Just didn’t know how…severe that punishment would be.”
For a long moment Skahr was silent, as though considering her words. Then he tilted her chin up so that her eyes met his.
“Emmeline, let me understand you,” he rumbled. “Are you telling me that you believe you deserved to be raped simply because you gave yourself pleasure?”
Biting her lip again, she nodded.
“Yes.” The single word was a whisper of shame. She wished she could look away from him but his eyes—more molten than blue in the firelight—held hers completely.
“But why would you think such a thing?” he asked, looking honestly confused.
“Well…because it is a sin,” Emmeline said, frowning. “Is it not? The sin of Onanism?”
“Why would self- pleasure be a sin?” He shook his head. “That makes no sense. What is sinful and wrong about it? It hurts no one and gives comfort and release when you find yourself without a partner.”
“But…but it’s wrong,” Emmeline argued. “Everyone knows that. You can’t tell me that your people honestly think it’s all right for someone to touch the…the secret areas of their body for pleasure?”
“Of course it’s all right.” He frowned. “Who taught you otherwise?”
“Well…my nursemaid to start with. And then my governess. And though my mother never spoke of it, the matter was implied. ‘A true lady never touches her secret areas. It is a sin and a shame upon her and her entire family,’” she said, quoting what her nursemaid had told her when, as a young girl, she had been caught with her hand between her legs.
Skahr shook his head.
“I do not understand the ways and beliefs of your people, of course. But I know that the Goddess made us with pleasure in mind—both at our own hands or the hands of a lover. To ignore the pleasure our bodies can give us is an affront to her.”
Emmeline regarded him with disbelief.
“So you’re saying your people think it’s a sin not to touch yourself?”
He shrugged.
“I suppose you could look at it that way. My people think of self-love as an expression of our pleasure in the Goddess’s creation. And…it is a safety valve as well. After all, it’s better for a male to take himself in hand than to take out his lust on an unwilling female.”
“I suppose I could see that for men but what about women?” Emmeline demanded. “How could it possibly be right for them to touch themselves? What excuse have they?”
“Why do they need an excuse?” Skahr’s deep voice was mild. “Why should a female not enjoy the pleasures of her own body? Why should she not part her legs and stroke her soft little pussy until she finds a release?”
For some reason, his words seemed to start a fire in her belly. Emmeline bit her lip and shifted her hips, squeezing her thighs together tightly. She had not indulged in her secret sin for over a year, not since Torrington had attacked her. She had thought the desire to do so had left her completely, but now she felt a tingle of need again—a warm and swollen feeling in the sensitive area between her thighs.
“Until she finds a release?” she asked, her voice coming out a bit breathless.
“Until she reaches the peak of pleasure,” Skahr clarified. He frowned at her. “Have you never reached the peak?”
“I…don’t know,” Emmeline admitted. “I know it felt really, um, good when I…when I touched myself there but I don’t know about reaching any kind of peak.”
“Then you have never found your way to bliss.” Skahr shook his head. “If you were my female and we were Joined, I would be happy to show you the way. But I know you do not wish any such thing, due to your clouded past,” he added quickly, clearly not wanting her to feel uncomfortable.
Emmeline was feeling uncomfortable, but not in the way he thought. His warm, sandalwood and pine scent was filling her senses, making her tingle and ache between her thighs. Making her feel restless and needy in ways she barely understood.
