“That’s true. I want to be loved. I know mymaster never loved me.” But was George the right man? Would heunderstand her past? They hadn’t even had a conversation with eachother. Was such instant attraction even normal? After being withGrier all these years, was shedamaged enough to latch on the first man to show her kindness?
The novelty of the situation wasn’t lost onher. She’d never been around many black men. When she was oldenough to show interest in the boys on the plantation, Grierbrought her into his house and made sure she didn’t fool aroundwith anyone but him.
The two women sat there in silence for a longtime. Allison tried to recollect her thoughts. Mrs. Brown tiltedher head as if patiently waiting for another question.
“I don’t know what to say to George. I don’tknow how to go about this.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Mrs. Brown said. “Well, he isinterested in you.”
“How do you know?”
“Ah. Old women know these things,” she saidwith a half-smile. “But you need to tell him about your past.”
Wouldn’t that scare him away? “I don’t knowif I can.”
“If you can tell me then you can tell him.Doesn’t it make you feel better to share?”
Allison shrugged. It didn’t change anything,didn’t erase all those horrible nights, but the humiliation anddegradation didn’t eat at her as much.
“I want to tell you a secret,” Mrs. Brownsaid, leaning closer to her. “I was raped when I a few yearsyounger than you. My first born was mulatto.”
“Oh.” Allison gasped.
Mrs. Brown looked away and her voice took ona weak, hoarse quality. “It happened to more slave women than I’dlike to think. The master’s brother came to visit and that night hecame to the quarters … and took a shine to me.”
“I’m sorry.” She couldn’t imagine Mrs. Brownbeing raped. She seemed so loving, so welcoming to everyone.
“It wasn’t long after that I was married. Anarranged marriage, of course—to one of the field hands.”
“What did you do?” Allison asked, her voiceinching upward in pitch. How could she lay with another man?
“That night I told my husband what I had gonethrough and we took it slow. It was still difficult the first time,but it got better every day.”
That was encouraging. “It will be a whilebefore we get to that point—if we ever do.” She couldn’t but thecart before the horse. George wasn’t courting her or anything. Sheswallowed. Did she want to get tied to another man? Wouldn’t it bewiser to spread her wings and delight in her freedom? Her mindscreamed yes, but her heart wavered. A woman alone could be arecipe for trouble. The constables would investigate the fire andmaybe come after her. As much as she wanted to be alone it would besafer with George at her side.
“Yes. Take it one step at a time.” Mrs.Brown’s eyes met hers. “Tell him your boundaries. He is a caringyoung man. I know he will respect them, respect you.”
She would try to do that. She didn’t knowwhat her boundaries were yet,though. After all, George would be her first real relationship.Grier had taken away more than her innocence. He had deprivedher of many life experiences.
Mrs. Brown removed her hand and smiled. “Itwill be a struggle, at first, I’msure. You need to work at it. I did, and eventually, I grew to love my husband, and we had manypassionate evenings together. I want nothing less than the samehappiness for you.”
“Thank you.” Mrs. Brown’s kind words warmedher heart. Would she be able to reclaim her body? Would it bepossible to be normal? Would her dream of getting married ever cometrue?
Chapter 9
GEORGE’S STOMACH LURCHED bile sloshingagainst the sides. The folded navy blue shawl he’d bought Allisonrested on top of one palm. It wasn’t as romantic as a bouquet butin winter it was more practical.He patted the pocket containing the rest of the money he had beengiven for the last voyage. Likely he’d give all of it to Mrs.Brown. He shifted his weight, hesitating before knocking on herdoor.
After two unbearably long minutes, Mrs. Brown answered. She beamed whenshe saw him. “I’ve been expecting you, George.”
“Is Allison all right? Is she still here?” heasked, rushing the words together.
“Yes. Come in. Come in.” She led him into thesitting room.
Allison smiled coyly and nodded to him. Shesat in a high-backed wooden chair in a long cotton dress, sostraight she could have balanced a book on her head. Her white lacyheadband held her curly hair back.
George rubbed the back of his neck, a littledisappointed she wasn’t still in her shift. The pine green dresswas very pretty, but it hid her figure. That was proper. Allisondidn’t seem the same haunted woman he had rescued. With anklescrossed and hands resting daintily in her lap, she reminded him ofEmma.
“How are you feeling, Allison?”
“Much stronger. Thank you.”
“You not only look stronger, you lookbeautiful.” His hands grew clammy, heart racing. The temperature ofthe room seemed to go up forty degrees. “I’ve been worried aboutyou.”
Redness stained her cheeks. “Thank you forworrying about me.” Her blush spread into her ears. “I mean thankyou for carrying me out of the house.” She stumbled over herwords.
She was damn cute blushing. “You’re welcome.I didn’t know if anyone was in the house. I’m glad I found you.”George sat in the matching chair across from her, holding the shawlin his lap. She smelled sweet, fresh, and delicate, distinctlyfeminine.
Mrs. Brown remained standing, her gazeshifting from him back to Allison. “Would you like a cup of coffee?I have some hot.”
“Yes, that would be nice,” Allison said.
George nodded. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Brown bustled out of the room, leavingthe two of them alone.
George handed Allison the shawl. “I boughtthis for you.”
Allison’s arched one brow, and George fearedshe’d refuse the gift. He breathed easier when she reached out andtook it, the material spilling over her hands. She stared at theshawl for a moment as if it was going to bite. “Thank you.”
He leaned forward in his chair, closer toAllison. “Who was that man?” he whispered.
Allison drew in a sharp breath, the lightfading from her eyes.
He cussedhimself for
