Bound By Desire (The Acadian Curse) by Rebecca Lyndon Page B

spoken. Ah,
here is the bench we seek.” He led her into a small glade where a
sturdy oaken seat was tucked up against the trunk of a stout tree.
“If you sit here, as your eyes adjust to the darkness, you will be
able to discern the woman of whom I spoke across that blackberry
bramble. The canes will keep any other visitors away from you.
Aside from the lady, who may hear us speaking now, none will know
you are here.”
    Hettie quickly disengaged her hand from his
arm and sat. He placed the cup and water jug beside her, then stood
back. “Do you wish for me to stay for a time?”
    To watch a bound woman raped by any who
happened upon her? Well, not raped, she supposed, if the lady had
willingly placed herself here. But used. Possibly harshly. Without
knowing who used her. Such a . . . disturbing idea.
    Hettie shook her head, then realized he might
not have been able to see her in the dark shadows beneath the oak.
“No, my lord. I believe I need a few minutes alone. Thank you for
showing me here. I am quite sure I can find my way back along the
path when I am ready.”
    “You will be completely safe, my lady. In
this you may trust.” He bowed, and then melted into the night.
    Hettie closed her eyes, but that did not stop
the parade of images she had seen that night from flashing through
her mind. So she opened them instead, and tried to focus in the
quiet night sounds to calm her. It wasn’t at all cold, fortunately,
especially not in the protection of the wood. On the whole, it was
very quiet and peaceful. When the light wind stirred the high
branches, she could see the stars peeking at her from the heavens.
Crickets chirped, and she heard the soft crackle of mouse feet
racing over fallen leaves.
    As her heartbeat slowed and her breath
relaxed, Hettie was uncomfortably aware of how wet she was inside
her drawers. Well, it was no wonder with all she’d seen. And Lord
Dowerdon’s imposing presence had not helped. The combination made
her wish fervently that she weren’t laced so tightly into her stays
as to make it impossible to give herself relief in a quick and
efficient manner. Anthony had liked to watch her touch herself. But
despite Lord Dowerdon’s assurance that she would be left entirely
alone, she could not relax long enough to bring herself to climax.
That would have to wait until later when she was snug in her bed
and in no danger of being discovered by unknown persons tramping
through the woods in search of carnal enticements. She was not
putting herself on the menu of Sin Fair vignettes.
    Finally, in a desperate bid to take her
thoughts off her growing need, she glanced over the bramble and saw
at once the woman kneeling on the ground at the base of a thick
pole to which her hands were chained. Her naked skin glowed pale
against the dark foliage of the forest, and she was, as Lord
Dowerdon had said, blindfolded. She sat still as glass, head bowed,
bound hands resting on her thighs. Hettie decided this was pretty
tame stuff compared to what all else she’d seen that night.
    As she watched the woman, she wondered what
the night air felt like against her bare breasts. It must be
interesting to be undressed outdoors. Surely at one time, people
would have cavorted naked in the woods instead of being trussed
into stays and layers of heavy clothes. Hettie thought it must be
very freeing to sit naked in the woods. She might not mind
that.
    Then she got to wondering what it would feel
like to have chains bind her wrists. Unconsciously, she crossed her
wrists in her lap, mimicking the naked woman’s pose. Did she have
shackles on? It was difficult to tell at the distance of some
thirty feet or so that separated Hettie from the woman. Surely
shackles would bite into tender flesh and rub against delicate
bones. Yet the woman did not look uncomfortable. She appeared
composed. Tranquil even.
    Just then a twig snapped beneath a heavy
foot, and both Hettie and the woman she watched straightened their
shoulders. Hettie