His eyes dropped to my breasts, the nipples outlined through the coarse cloth of my gown and he came close, roughly fondled my breasts, one hand reaching in through the robes, seeking my womanhood. “No, ‘I cried in panic as I realized what he intended to do.”No, Gaston, not here, please!”
Ignoring my urgent pleas, he continued and in sudden fury, I slapped him hard across the face.
He stopped and as I became aware of what I had done, I pushed him away and moved to safety, standing behind an ornate table in the centre of the room, trembling with shock and fear.
Gaston turned to me, a livid mark on his face where I had slapped him.
“So the kitten has got claws now?” he murmured cooly, eyes glinting savagely, and I quaked at the menace in his voice. He touched his cheek reflectively and began circling the room, no sign of the aroused man who had attacked me just a few minutes before.
While I stood, disheveled, pulling my robes around me tightly, clinging to my sanity.
“You haven’t answered me,” he went on, stopping before an exquisite sculpture of the Buddha, his back to me. “Whose are they?”
I stayed silent, swallowing my humiliation; “You know I did not sleep with anyone else, when I was with you, “ I whispered, hurt beyond words, my eyes filling as I looked at his cold, impassive face.