force of his release. “God—Fancy—oh, my God—”
Reality came crashing down on Fancy in that moment. She realized what she had done, what they had done together, and struggled beneath his inert frame, a choked sob coming from her throat. “Let me up!”
Jeff eased away from her, still breathing hard, his eyes glazed and distracted. He watched without apparent emotion as Fancy frantically grabbed for her clothes, stood up, and struggled into them.
“You were a virgin,” he observed in a flat voice, while Fancy grappled with her underthings.
“I tried to tell you that!” she burst out, tears streaking down her face.
One powerful, burn-scarred shoulder moved in a shrug. “I didn’t believe you,” he replied matter-of-factly, as though that made everything all right. “You used to work on the Silver Shadow in Port Hastings. I remember you.”
“Does that make me a whore?” hissed Fancy, tangling one foot in the hem of her cherished lavender dress and nearly toppling back onto the straw again.
Idly, Jeff reached for his trousers and shirt. He was almost fully dressed before he answered, “It certainly doesn’t make you respectable. The place is a brothel, after all.”
Fancy wanted to strike him, but she knew that he would restrain her easily, perhaps even laugh at her. And right then she couldn’t have borne that. “Myfather works in a coal mine!” she shouted senselessly, as she struggled with the buttons Jeff had found so easy to manage. “He’s dying of lung fever! My mother washes other people’s clothes and they’re still in debt to the company no matter what they do! Therefore, Captain Rich-and-Spoiled Corbin, I’ll work anywhere, as long as I’m paid a fair wage!”
He stopped buttoning his straw-flecked shirt to watch her. “To send to them?” he prompted.
“Yes!”
Jeff chuckled, low in his throat. “You’re certainly worth your wages, Nurse Jordan.”
That did it. Fancy lunged at him, still only half-dressed, a furious animal sound rattling deep in her throat. She flung both fists at an impervious, rock-hard chest, frantic to hurt Jeff Corbin, to make him bleed.
He caught her wrists in a firm hold and, to her eternal surprise, pulled her close. His arms were around her instantly, the palms of his massive hands cupping her small bottom, kneading the still-tingling flesh there into a submission that soon spread throughout Fancy’s being. “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “I was only teasing you.”
Fancy was determined not to be caught in his trap again. “I came out here to build a rabbit hutch!” she yelled.
Jeff threw back his head and laughed uproariously. When he finally sobered, he looked down into her flushed, furious face and said, “Lord, woman, the way you build rabbit hutches could send a man to an early grave.”
“Wretch!”
He bent and kissed the tip of her pert little nose.“You’d better go inside, Miss Jordan, and repair your appearance. At the moment, you look as though you’d just been deflowered on the barn floor.”
Fancy broke free of him and strode toward the house. It wasn’t until she reached her room and forced herself to look into the mirror, that she realized how right Jeff had been. Her hair was full of straw and falling around her shoulders in untidy loops, her dress was mussed and not properly buttoned. A telling apricot blush pulsed in her cheeks and her eyes were as bright as the sunny heights where she’d soared.
Trembling, Fancy took the pitcher from her wash stand, stomped to the kitchen sink, and pumped cold water into the vessel so vigorously that her arm ached. Then she swept back to her room, poured the water into the waiting basin, and splashed her face until some of the heat faded away and her heart slowed to its normal pace.
After that, she took her hair down and brushed it, causing it to crackle and flare around her face. She exchanged the lavender dress for her own gray woolen, unsuited as it was to the warm