THIRTY-FOUR
Portia awoke cold and stiff, like she'd slept on the stone. And with ache between her legs that reminded her...
Rudolf. He'd returned, and she'd married him last night. She'd known he was too big, but she'd done it anyway. And now he was...
Not here.
But it couldn't have been a dream!
She wouldn't have dreamed such a terrible wedding night. Not with Rudolf. Heaven help her, she'd cried herself to sleep in his arms.
No wonder he was gone.
"Good morning, my lady. Do you wish to break your fast?"
Portia sat up. The middle aged priest who'd married them last night stood by the table with his head bowed, as if not daring to look at her.
"Or perhaps you would like to wash?"
Memories of Rudolf's hands on her thighs as he cleaned the most intimate parts of her made her blu
