.. entertaining no idea in this world of the abhorrent secret she must now live with.Her brain whirled in her still-shamed, utter debasement. Again, she had failed this proud young man she loved so much, and this time, there could be no forgiveness. If only she had told him of Igat in the beginning, bared her soul to him... made a clean breast of it. He'd loved her... would probably have understood, but now... it was too late. Dear God, how could she tell him now without laying the whole sordid story before him... yes, even the way Uncle Gaston had forced his salacious attentions on her? She couldn't, not without revealing the whole despicable truth. Yet, if she didn't turn to her Antoine for help, where could she go?There had been time to think since leaving the party, and once out of Larreau's horrible, dominating presence, Madeleine realized she could not keep their wicked appointment the next day; she just couldn't give herself to that foul beast... yet, if she didn't, he had. She bent to pick it up showing Greg her bare back with her bra straps dangling on both sides. Quickly she stood up, but again dropped the book. This time Greg picked it up for her. “I’ll hold it for you,” he said, indicating that he would walk back with her to her towel that he could see, spread out on the sand right up against the cliff. “A true gentleman!” she remarked laughingly. “Anything to help a damsel in distress!” he responded, and they fell into a light hearted conversation. Soon they both sat down, but after a few moments, Greg could see that the young woman was sitting self-consciously grasping her flimsy garment, unable to clasp it behind her back without exposing herself. “Can I help you with that?” he asked, wondering if she could see him blush at his presumptuous question. “Oh, would you?” she asked smilingly as she turned her back towards him. Greg nervously took hold of her bra straps and tried to attach them, but failed miserably, fumbling several times. “I’ll do.
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