bushwhacker elbowing him in the ribs with a sly wink.
Utterly humiliated, Mercy swallowed her ire as best she could. Dragging one tired foot in front of the other, she headed back to the house.
Still in a state of shock, she made her way up the stairs, stopping to check on her mother. Opening a door, she peered into the dimly-lit bedroom, the hallway sconce shedding enough light for her to see that not only her mother, but Prudence and Gabriel, as well, were sound asleep in the huge four-poster bed.
Careful not to wake them, Mercy closed the door and tiptoed down the hall, unnerved to hear the cacophony of loud snores that emanated from Pru and Gabriel’s vacated rooms.
Safe at last behind her own bedroom door, she made haste to turn the skeleton key . There was nothing under the heavens that would induce her to unlock it before morning.
Once the curt ains were tightly drawn, Mercy lit a candle. Quickly unbuttoning her bodice, she removed the soiled, ripped dress, as well as her undergarments. Pouring water into the wash basin, she did her best to clean the soot and grime from her body.
Finished with her toilette, Mercy removed a cotton nightdress from the bureau and pulled it over her head. As she did every night, she loosened the pins from her hair and pulled a bristle brush through her waist-length blond tresses.
Inadvertently glancing into the cracked mirror above the bureau, Mercy stopped in mid-stroke, the brush falling from her fingers with a clatter. The face staring back at her was not one that she’d ever seen before, the kiss-swollen mouth surely belonging to some other woman.
Raising a hand, Mercy gingerly touched her lips.
A few seconds later, a silent tear rolled down her face as it belatedly dawned on her that the degrading public spectacle had been her first kiss. Filled with shame, she swiped at the errant tear.
As God is my witness that’ll be the last kiss any man takes without my consent!
E motionally and physically spent from the day’s ordeal, Mercy blew out the candle. Pulling back the quilted coverlet, she eased herself onto the feather tick. No sooner had she done so than she heard the hall stairs creak under a man’s heavy weight. Sitting upright, she listened as that same man made his way down the hall, coming to a halt outside her bedroom door. There was no doubt in her mind that Spencer McCabe stood on the other side of the locked door.
A few seconds later, the door rattled in its frame.
“Open the door, Mercy.”
Trembling, Mercy clutched the bed quilt to her chest, a flimsy shield of armor, at best.
“I said, open the door.”
Again, she ignored the command, praying that Spencer would call retreat.
Whe n she heard him take several steps away from the door, she breathed an audible sigh of relief. A sigh that ended in a gasp as the door suddenly flew open.
It had not dawned on her that he would circumvent the lock with one firm kick.
Stepping into the room, Spence r slammed the door shut behind him. A moment later, she heard a match strike, her heart hammering against her chest as he lit the candle on the bureau.
“No lock can keep me out and you’d be wise to remember that from here on out,” he warned before pulling his shirt over his hea d and flinging it to the floor.
Mercy’s jaw slackened. Bronzed and muscular, Spencer McCabe had the chest of a gladiator. Terrified, she knew that she didn’t possess the physical strength to fend him off. Hearing a loud thud, she was disheartened that he’d removed one boot and was well on the way to removing the other. A few seconds later, hearing the second thud, her heart sank another notch.
Dejectedly, Mercy turned her head, unable to watch as Spence r proceeded to unbutton his trousers. She’d seen all that she needed to see. One look at that well-honed torso and she knew that she could not possibly stop him from having his way with her.
Feeling utterly helpless, Mercy pound her fist against the bed.
No! I will not
Utterly humiliated, Mercy swallowed her ire as best she could. Dragging one tired foot in front of the other, she headed back to the house.
Still in a state of shock, she made her way up the stairs, stopping to check on her mother. Opening a door, she peered into the dimly-lit bedroom, the hallway sconce shedding enough light for her to see that not only her mother, but Prudence and Gabriel, as well, were sound asleep in the huge four-poster bed.
Careful not to wake them, Mercy closed the door and tiptoed down the hall, unnerved to hear the cacophony of loud snores that emanated from Pru and Gabriel’s vacated rooms.
Safe at last behind her own bedroom door, she made haste to turn the skeleton key . There was nothing under the heavens that would induce her to unlock it before morning.
Once the curt ains were tightly drawn, Mercy lit a candle. Quickly unbuttoning her bodice, she removed the soiled, ripped dress, as well as her undergarments. Pouring water into the wash basin, she did her best to clean the soot and grime from her body.
Finished with her toilette, Mercy removed a cotton nightdress from the bureau and pulled it over her head. As she did every night, she loosened the pins from her hair and pulled a bristle brush through her waist-length blond tresses.
Inadvertently glancing into the cracked mirror above the bureau, Mercy stopped in mid-stroke, the brush falling from her fingers with a clatter. The face staring back at her was not one that she’d ever seen before, the kiss-swollen mouth surely belonging to some other woman.
Raising a hand, Mercy gingerly touched her lips.
A few seconds later, a silent tear rolled down her face as it belatedly dawned on her that the degrading public spectacle had been her first kiss. Filled with shame, she swiped at the errant tear.
As God is my witness that’ll be the last kiss any man takes without my consent!
E motionally and physically spent from the day’s ordeal, Mercy blew out the candle. Pulling back the quilted coverlet, she eased herself onto the feather tick. No sooner had she done so than she heard the hall stairs creak under a man’s heavy weight. Sitting upright, she listened as that same man made his way down the hall, coming to a halt outside her bedroom door. There was no doubt in her mind that Spencer McCabe stood on the other side of the locked door.
A few seconds later, the door rattled in its frame.
“Open the door, Mercy.”
Trembling, Mercy clutched the bed quilt to her chest, a flimsy shield of armor, at best.
“I said, open the door.”
Again, she ignored the command, praying that Spencer would call retreat.
Whe n she heard him take several steps away from the door, she breathed an audible sigh of relief. A sigh that ended in a gasp as the door suddenly flew open.
It had not dawned on her that he would circumvent the lock with one firm kick.
Stepping into the room, Spence r slammed the door shut behind him. A moment later, she heard a match strike, her heart hammering against her chest as he lit the candle on the bureau.
“No lock can keep me out and you’d be wise to remember that from here on out,” he warned before pulling his shirt over his hea d and flinging it to the floor.
Mercy’s jaw slackened. Bronzed and muscular, Spencer McCabe had the chest of a gladiator. Terrified, she knew that she didn’t possess the physical strength to fend him off. Hearing a loud thud, she was disheartened that he’d removed one boot and was well on the way to removing the other. A few seconds later, hearing the second thud, her heart sank another notch.
Dejectedly, Mercy turned her head, unable to watch as Spence r proceeded to unbutton his trousers. She’d seen all that she needed to see. One look at that well-honed torso and she knew that she could not possibly stop him from having his way with her.
Feeling utterly helpless, Mercy pound her fist against the bed.
No! I will not
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