“Her grandmother had departed after her brief and terrifying description of what faced Linnea this evening, stomping away with the shuffle and click of leather shoes and metal-tipped walking stick so unique to her. But Linnea had not been able to move. She could not, for fear made her legs weak. Fear made her stomach rebel and shut down the workings of her mind. But even with that fear, she still would have tried to flee the dreadful future that awaited her. Shame, however, was her ultimate undo...ing. If she ran, then Beatrix would suffer. If she ran, she would confirm all their beliefs about her. If she ran, they would be right. She closed her eyes and bowed her head, sinking into the shudder that rippled through her. Would he treat her cruelly, or kindly? Would he want her to cringe and weep, or to cry out in passion? Which would be worse? At least she would not have to pretend to fear. But passion … She would not be able to pretend she felt passion! Consumed as she was by utter misery, she did not hear the noisy entrance of several men.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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