AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Her breath caught in her throat. Honesty from him—so recognizable from how he would look when they were young—that it sent a garbled sound bubbling upward in her throat, half a gasp, half a cry.
Silly, how a tangible touchstone from the past—the honesty in his light brown eyes—could make her insides crumble like that.
Her fingers twitched, wanting to reach out. Touch him. His arm. His chest. His neck. Pull herself close to him where she could hide in his mass just like she had done years ago. He’d always been her protector and the years had never tarnished the feel of it. To be held. Loved.
But no.
He wanted nothing to do with her.
She had to think only on that. Asking for more was dangerous, for it would only shatter her when he walked away again. And he would walk away. He was here for this meeting today and then he was done with her. If anything, the kiss yesterday was testament to that fact. He’d tasted her and then stalked away. Done.
Just as done as he would be in another day.
{ Chapter 11 }
At a loss to reply to his words, Pen’s back stiffened as her rigid arms shifted, trying to shrug her shoulders back into the lavender dress. She forced her cheeks upward, working to at least manifest a smile on her face. Unsuccessful, she awkwardly turned away from Strider, unable to bear his stare.
“Could you please?” Her right forefinger wagged over her shoulderto point to thelaces lining the back of the dress.
Strider stepped forward silently, his fingers grabbing the edges of the dress and pulling it tight to her body. The satin in place, he worked the laces upward, his knuckles brushing against her back, searing his heat through her chemise onto her skin.
Holding her hair in front of her right shoulder, she craned her neck forward as her head stayed bowed. Still. She held her breath, her body rigid as his fingers worked the dress—a mouse in the corner, frozen so as not to be devoured. Crushed under his heel.
Upward his hands moved, his fingers now above her chemise and grazing her skin again and again.
Damn him for buying her this dress—and two more to try on—she didn’t think she could live through this torture more than once. This one would have to do no matter how it fit on her.
Strider cleared his throat as he tied off the laces just below the base of her neck. She thought he was done, about to move away when the tip of his forefinger landed on her spine with the gentlest touch, moving upward along the bumps until it disappeared into the base of her hair.
“This. You’re so…tight. Rigid. Your muscles. Your bones. You are like this almost always, like you’ve never relaxed on a chaise lounge and stared out the window. How do you stand it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Strider.” She refused to turn her head to him. If it was time for him to be rude, then he could speak to the back of her head.
“You do know.” His finger started to trail back down her spine, moving slower this time and sending shivers along her skin. “It’s the exact way you were when I found you bloodying your palm. And I told you I never wanted to see it again. Not just the blood, the stiffness as well. You turn into granite so easily—in the blink of my eye. And then you stay that way.”
Her chest lifted in a sudden breath and she hated herself for it.No emotion.It was the only way she was going to survive being in Strider’s presence for the next few days. Good thing she was an expert at not feeling a thing. “How I am is none of your concern. It wasn’t yesterday and it isn’t today.”
“Except it is—at least for today it is. When you’re like this, it’s off-putting.” His fingertip reached the top seam of the dress, stilling. “This family—your family—they will wonder what is wrong with you if you approach them like this.”
She spun on the ball of her foot to him, instant indignation burning her cheeks. “What’swrongwith me? I realize you have no partiality for me, but don’t presume that you will know what my family will think of me. I am polite and quiet and deferential to everyone in the room. I make myself into nothing so no one will oppose my presence. How do you even think they could possibly object to me?”
Both of his hands motioned up and down her body. “Do you not even see yourself right now, Pen? You’re a beautiful woman. You’re the farthest thing from hideous and you always have been.”
He grabbed her shoulders and shifted her across the floor, spinning her so she stood in front of the cheval mirror in the corner of the room. “Just look. Beautiful. Beautiful, but cold. That is why they will object. A mousey woman can get away with the stiffness—it’s just shyness. But not a beautiful woman. Rigid coldness in someone like you will find you cut so quickly by them it will make your head spin. Beauty needs warmth to make it—to make the person—real. You go in there like stone and they will judge you on so many levels you don’t even understand.”
“Beautiful?” The word croaked out of her throat.
“Yes, dammit. Beautiful, but cold.”
“But I don’t know how else to be.” She stared at her reflection. The cut of the dress across her chest sent the gentle swell of her breasts upward—skin that never saw air except when she was changing or bathing. The lavender brought out the pink in her cheeks and set off her blond hair. Her eyes looked to be almost a golden green. She looked acceptable. Strider said beautiful—but that was too much. Pretty, maybe. But he was right. Her arms were stiff sticks dangling from the flounce of the short sleeves. Her shoulders back and high. The whole of her body rigid and not moving with the dress—moving under it—no matter that it was tight to her curves. And if what he was saying was true, even pretty wouldn’t do.
She shook her head, looking at him in the mirror. “Why did you even get me this dress—at least the black hides me. Hides my body. Draws all the attention away from my face. I can be dowdy and rigid and it won’t matter.”
She stepped away from him and the mirror, aiming for the changing screen and the security of her black dress. Stupid to think she could dress up like one of them and just as easily become one of them.
“No.” His hand clamped onto her upper arm, halting her motion. “The dress stays, Pen.”
She whipped around to him, her arms flying up in the air. “Then what do you propose I do?”
