explain---”
“What would you explain!” he cried hotly. “That you have been sleeping with a traitor? That you prefer his filthy Scottish bed to mine? That you are a whore, like all the others? Well? Why don’t you speak!”
“I am very sorry for you,” she said at last. “You are blind, as no man I have ever known. You will never learn, and you will never change.” And with that she turned her back on him.
For a single moment he stood transfixed, loving, and at the same time hating. . .her. She knew him as no one else, and had always spoken the truth. But the words she spoke now were not soothing, were not the gentle words of comfort he sought. Instead they burned, like salt on an open wound.
Pure, blind hatred rose up inside him, devouring all else. He seized her by the shoulders, and with the heat of the primal hunger, turned her towards him. If love would not be gratified, then he would at least have lust. For the second time that day, Mary looked into the unseeing eyes of rape. Terror was no longer possible. All she could feel was despair, and pity. This would be the final, unbearable shame for them both.
“Stephen, I beg you. In the name of what you once felt for me, and I for you. Don’t do this. Forgive my hard words. I do not hate you. But this..... This can never be.”
“Why not? Why can’t it?” He pressed her hard against him. “You know you want me.” His mouth engulfed hers, then moved greedily to the skin of her throat.
“Stephen, don’t. It’s not right!” She tried to pull away, but he held her fast. She felt his left hand drag her downward, as his right hand worked to free the remaining buttons.
“Stephen. . .no!” She was on the ground, and he had flung aside his coat, looming on one knee beside her. Then with a swift movement of both hands he tore open her slip, the widening V of her dress. Still further, till the treasures of her body lay exposed. His mouth was upon her breast, as his hand swept low to engulf her.
“Stephen! For God’s sake. . .I’m your sister!”