Read Online The Bound Heart by Elsa Holland - Free Book Online

workbenches, books in clamps, glue pots open.
    “Mr. Edwards’s not here today?” Her voice sounded casual as if she wasn’t interested in the answer.
    “Doing some work from home. He’s moving on, you know. We have his replacement, started this week.” Mr. Johns smirked to himself.
    Perhaps, if she’d seen the smirk last week, she wouldn’t have even thought much about it; but now she knew what that ‘work from home’ would entail and understood the look on Mr. Johns’ face. Part envy, part derision.
    Had she been the only one who didn’t know Jamie’s, preferences?
    Heat flushed up her neck.
    No wonder Jamie had sent her away. He knew she didn’t have a clue about those things and was not interested in playing with someone who didn’t.
    She left and the workshop door closed behind her. Olive walked to the edge of the landing and sat on the top step. A single gas lamp shone above her on the wall.
    She took the photographs from her coat pocket and looked at them. She should take them to Evie and give them back. But Evie didn’t expect them until Friday.
    Right now, Jamie was doing this or something like this with someone. Working with the photographer, most likely Edgar, who was sweet on Evie.
    The thought that tightened her chest and grated through her was the model. Jamie would be spending hours touching the model. His voice, firm, giving directions. He would be so close to her, she’d smell that wonderful oriental scent in his clothes, would know the warm puff of his breath as he leaned close to her. But also the pleasure. There was no possible way that a woman would have these photos taken and not feel the pleasure of what Jamie was doing to her.
    A sharp possessive bite snapped around her heart.
    Her belly tumbled.
    She slipped the photos back in her pocket and stood.
    These things in the photo plates shouldn’t be for her; but they excited her. Everything about Mr. Edwards excited her.
    A sharp something dug into her chest and stung.
    But there was also determination. It wrapped round her like the leather bands of her brace holding her firm and strong against her doubts.
    With each step, she pulled in her breath and pushed back her shoulders. Her life had not been easy, in fact, still was not. Her hip hurt. The limp was the cause of years of ridicule. Men saw her as an easy target, and no job of any merit came her way. A fault of physical build was as much a signal to mental capacity. It hadn’t mattered how well she’d performed, whom she outshone. No advancement was possible for the crippled. Best keep them out of sight especially, from those with money to spend and goodwill to disseminate.
    Therefore, she ran errands for a twine shop and lived with her sister and her sister’s ill-fated family. The pounding of her sister’s headboard against the adjoining wall was a regular reminder that although they were almost identical, her sister was wanted and she was not.
    Then there was the pain. A child who’d had infantile paralysis could not convey the pain they went through. Children cry. They hurt at the smallest thing, or so the adults thought. However, she had suffered, had known the mark of mindless skin-peeling pain; and what she had felt as an adult, the occasional abusive man who had hit her, the ones who had broken her heart or humiliated her, that pain hadn’t come close. Her sister was frustrated with her. ‘ Why not marr y Bill? He’s a good enough man.’
    Good enough for you , had echoed across the space. Perhaps Bill was the best she could do. A man no other woman wanted. He had no real prospects and little to offer by way of his character or self. He was a minor in all spheres of life.
    Was that all she could hope for? If so, she wanted to go it alone and that was what she had planned until she had laid eyes on him, Mr. Edwards.
    A warm flame had run through her, a spark, which ignited the very same essence that made her walk again. Those first painful, awkward steps, holding onto