sees me, he'll be all handshakes and kindness. It's only when he gets a girl alone that he shows his true colors."
I look up into his dark eyes and feel the truth in his words. I'm safe. He wipes my tears away and takes my hands again. He pulls me along. I try not to hobble or limp, but the difference between the shoe and my foot is huge. I peek past him as we round the corner of the house. Martin ain't nowhere to be seen.
"He went the other way I think." he says disappointedly, but looks around with me. He seems more like he is scouting, hoping Martin is still back here. Seeing the fierceness in his eyes, I have a slight hope Martin comes back as well.
We are alone on the back grass that’s dotted with huge trees. Through the branches of the tree I'm standing under, I can see the windows full of people. People laughing and dancing and drinking. They are having fun.
He lets go of me and walks to a spot on the grass where he bends down and then walks back. He kneels in front of me, holding my shoe out.
"How did you see that?" I ask.
In the moonlight, I can barely see the smile cross his lips when he speaks, "I was looking for it. Here." He takes my foot and puts the shoe on. I feel like a sweaty version of Cinderella for a small moment. Only a small moment, because being assaulted by the man she would marry wasn’t in any of the versions of the story I've read.
"Would you like to go to the gazebo?" he points.
I start to laugh, nervously.
"What?" His voice is innocent. Martin's was innocent as well.
Looking down on his face in the moonlight I can't believe the words that are about to leave my lips, "No, thank you. I buried my friend today and I'm exhausted. I'd like to go home and take off this ridiculous dress and soak my poor feet. Not very ladylike, but it's the truth." I sigh.
He stands and lifts me off the ground in one sweep. He walks toward the gazebo. "It might not be ladylike but I feel the same way. And I dare say, I strive for ladylike in all of the things I do."
I snicker.
His eyes grow serious, "I'm sorry about your friend, Lorelei. It's so rare to have a person in your life that is genuinely your friend and for no benefit beyond the fact you are friends. If only I had known how close you two were."
I frown at him, "What is that supposed to mean?"
He shrugs, "I would have searched the woods for him. Instead, I waited for the police. I stayed with you. I sent my driver to phone them."
I was unconscious and he stayed with me. I never knew that. I'm not sure how I feel about that.
I push away all the bad feelings and just try to focus on not falling out of his arms. His arms that don’t seem to struggle to hold me. I know I weigh more than an average girl my age. I'm strong. Strong enough to get away from Martin.
I can't help but wonder if Margery Banks really wanted the attentions she received, or if he persuaded her, violently. I wonder what her momma really walked into, poor Margery Banks. The thoughts make me instantly uncomfortable, "Mr. Whitlock, it's truly indecent for you to be carrying me out in public."
He looks at me and smiles and my stomach flutters, "What public? We are the only people out in this garden. I think even Mr. Ryan has made his cowardly way back into the party." When he reaches the stairs he climbs them gracefully, as if I'm no burden in weight or balance. He places me on the bench like I weighed nothing. I know that's not the truth of it though. I was forced to weigh myself this very morning. I know I weigh one hundred and thirty-four pounds. I know I'm not light, my momma told me that as she weighed me.
I raise an eyebrow, "You're very strong."
He frowns, "You weigh next to nothing. I must outweigh you by at least a hundred pounds."
I laugh. He is huge, but not in a way that would suggest a hundred pound weight difference.
He holds a hand out, "My tip, madam."
I smile. Through it all, he makes me smile. I look down at my dress, "I'm sure you've noticed I have
I look up into his dark eyes and feel the truth in his words. I'm safe. He wipes my tears away and takes my hands again. He pulls me along. I try not to hobble or limp, but the difference between the shoe and my foot is huge. I peek past him as we round the corner of the house. Martin ain't nowhere to be seen.
"He went the other way I think." he says disappointedly, but looks around with me. He seems more like he is scouting, hoping Martin is still back here. Seeing the fierceness in his eyes, I have a slight hope Martin comes back as well.
We are alone on the back grass that’s dotted with huge trees. Through the branches of the tree I'm standing under, I can see the windows full of people. People laughing and dancing and drinking. They are having fun.
He lets go of me and walks to a spot on the grass where he bends down and then walks back. He kneels in front of me, holding my shoe out.
"How did you see that?" I ask.
In the moonlight, I can barely see the smile cross his lips when he speaks, "I was looking for it. Here." He takes my foot and puts the shoe on. I feel like a sweaty version of Cinderella for a small moment. Only a small moment, because being assaulted by the man she would marry wasn’t in any of the versions of the story I've read.
"Would you like to go to the gazebo?" he points.
I start to laugh, nervously.
"What?" His voice is innocent. Martin's was innocent as well.
Looking down on his face in the moonlight I can't believe the words that are about to leave my lips, "No, thank you. I buried my friend today and I'm exhausted. I'd like to go home and take off this ridiculous dress and soak my poor feet. Not very ladylike, but it's the truth." I sigh.
He stands and lifts me off the ground in one sweep. He walks toward the gazebo. "It might not be ladylike but I feel the same way. And I dare say, I strive for ladylike in all of the things I do."
I snicker.
His eyes grow serious, "I'm sorry about your friend, Lorelei. It's so rare to have a person in your life that is genuinely your friend and for no benefit beyond the fact you are friends. If only I had known how close you two were."
I frown at him, "What is that supposed to mean?"
He shrugs, "I would have searched the woods for him. Instead, I waited for the police. I stayed with you. I sent my driver to phone them."
I was unconscious and he stayed with me. I never knew that. I'm not sure how I feel about that.
I push away all the bad feelings and just try to focus on not falling out of his arms. His arms that don’t seem to struggle to hold me. I know I weigh more than an average girl my age. I'm strong. Strong enough to get away from Martin.
I can't help but wonder if Margery Banks really wanted the attentions she received, or if he persuaded her, violently. I wonder what her momma really walked into, poor Margery Banks. The thoughts make me instantly uncomfortable, "Mr. Whitlock, it's truly indecent for you to be carrying me out in public."
He looks at me and smiles and my stomach flutters, "What public? We are the only people out in this garden. I think even Mr. Ryan has made his cowardly way back into the party." When he reaches the stairs he climbs them gracefully, as if I'm no burden in weight or balance. He places me on the bench like I weighed nothing. I know that's not the truth of it though. I was forced to weigh myself this very morning. I know I weigh one hundred and thirty-four pounds. I know I'm not light, my momma told me that as she weighed me.
I raise an eyebrow, "You're very strong."
He frowns, "You weigh next to nothing. I must outweigh you by at least a hundred pounds."
I laugh. He is huge, but not in a way that would suggest a hundred pound weight difference.
He holds a hand out, "My tip, madam."
I smile. Through it all, he makes me smile. I look down at my dress, "I'm sure you've noticed I have
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