India

‘Marriage to the young men courting you last Season was no longer an option. Lord Radcliff is different…’ ‘Because he’s a bastard,’ Sabrina said bluntly. Jonathan ignored her, ‘Lord Radcliff is different, he’s older and his own…background, affords him a certain amount of understanding that would escape most men.’ Understanding dawned and with it, horror. ‘You told him?!’ Sabrina gripped the arms of the chair to keep from standing. ‘He made a very generous offer, I couldn’t refuse out of hand nor did I want to. Full disclosure was required.’ Not that it was any of her business, Jonathan said, ‘Not only did he not withdraw his offer, he didn’t change any of the terms at hearing of your situation.’ Sabrina felt herself flush with shame. She hated feeling like a damaged breed mare having her purchase price negotiated. She’d always known that her marriage would be, in large part, business between her father and her future husband. Still, it was humiliating having her value discussed in. The boyish competition, the friendly rivalry, had grown sharper in recent days. Constance knew the reason for that, oh, knew it all too well. The tension between her blond brother and his dusky lifelong friend was solely because of her. Enrique wanted her. It had been his attempt to steal kisses that had led to her initial downfall. She cringed to think of that first night, how Rob had slyly coerced her into pleasuring Enrique with her mouth while he did the same to her. How shamefully her body had betrayed her at that unexpected sensation! And then he’d defiled her, deflowered her, committed incest upon her all the while telling her that it was her fault. A terrible confusion held her in its sway. Was it her fault? She had never so much as kissed a man before that night, barring the dreams that she never dared admit to a soul. Yet she had writhed against Rob, against the slick sliding push of his cock, until her loins had shivered with release and prompted him to complete the act.
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