Chapter Seven
She tensed, her back to Slade.
“Tory?”
She bit the inside of her mouth, wishing she had an easy answer to his question. Staring at the ribbon of moonlight pooling in the meadow, she whispered, “I’m not ready to take our relationship to the next level.”
“Is that what you thought that kiss was? The beginning of a seduction?”
She shrugged, nothing casual about the gesture. “It is our wedding night. I thought—”
“We’re friends. I wouldn’t rush you like that.”
He was only a few feet behind her now. She sensed his puzzled gaze drilling into her back, trying to discern what had panicked her. This would be a perfect time to tell him as her sister had encouraged her. Then she remembered some of the whispers said behind her back—Maybe she had asked for it. Maybe she’d led him on. They had been dating. She knew in her heart she hadn’t asked to be raped, but the shame of the act clung to her as though it were a second skin. Could she have done something differently to prevent it? Why couldn’t she have seen it coming? She had dated the man for several weeks, known him much longer, or so she’d thought.
“Tory, we talked about our marriage one day—being real in every sense. Have you changed your mind?”
Yes. No! How could she answer him when she was so torn up inside? She didn’t know what she wanted. What a mess!
“Have you, Tory?”
She wheeled around and faced him, praying her expression was neutral, that none of the anguish twisting her stomach was visible. She never wanted to hurt this special man, but she was afraid she would. “No—one day.” She looked toward Mirabelle’s stall, then back into his eyes. “Please be patient. We haven’t known each other long. Give me time.”
One corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. “I had intended to do that very thing. A kiss isn’t making love, Tory.”
She sucked in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before releasing it. “I know. It’s just that I haven’t dated much. I’ve been so busy and…” She let her words trail off into the silence, hoping he drew the conclusion she’d led a sheltered life, which was true for the past four years, and even before that.
“I understand.”
You do? She almost said the words out loud but stopped herself before she revealed her doubts. Instead she said, “I think these past few weeks are finally catching up with me. I’m overreacting. I’m sorry, Slade.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. It will take a while for us to adjust to living under the same roof. And I agree. It has been a long few weeks. I think I’m gonna turn in now.”
“I’ll be up to the house soon.”
She watched him stride toward the entrance, his bearing suggesting the same weariness she felt. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, there had been a hurt expression in his eyes she’d glimpsed for a brief moment before he had managed to mask it. He didn’t really understand. How could he when there were times she didn’t?
She spun about to stare out the back door, looking toward the heavens. Dear God, I hurt Slade tonight. Please help me to make this marriage work. I’m in over my head. I don’t want to fail.
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