Taken

'Don't be. The odds were hopelessly against you. I'd rather have a live hero than a dead one.' She might have added, "There are things that dead heroes can't do." But she didn't. Her thoughts were a turmoil she preferred right now not to share with him. Only an hour or so earlier, she'd been thinking that what she needed in Sebastien's place was a real man. And now she had one right here with her. She didn't yet quite know what she was going to do about it. But she was awfully glad he wasn't really her brother. Doing with a brother what she at least half contemplated doing with Mark would be incest. And that would be taboo. Whereas, with Mark...

AFTER DINNER, BELLA STOOD UP TO WASH THE DISHES, but Mark told her to sit down. 'You've been through enough. I can do these. When I'm at uni, I'll have to. It's a nice evening. Take a glass of wine outside and sit on the garden swing. I'll join you when I'm finished here.'

Bella did what she was told. Sitting on the swing, sipping her wine and listening to the birds singing their songs of the evening, she reflected on those things she had been through that Mark had described as "enough." He was right. They had been enough. More than enough. In fact, too much. But she was emerging with a clearer idea of how she wanted her life in future to be. And what kind of man she wanted to be in it. Not a man like Sebastien, who still for all his New Man protestations regarded her as property. And not a wimp. Someone who could and would stand up for her. Protect her. And yet respect her as an equal. Someone like... And even as she thought about Mark, and what he had done to the man who threatened her, she shied away from the thought. Surely... Mark was like a brother to her?

Yes, he was. Very like a brother. But, actually, he wasn't a brother. He was a man. A man who, however bad he might have felt about it, had been aroused by the sight of her undressing. The site of her naked.

And she needed to find a way to get over the fact that she had been taken against her will. What she needed was very clear to her. She needed to be held, possessed, taken once more, and this time with love and affection. She needed to be cherished for her femininity -- her femaleness -- and respected as a human being. And there was someone, right here in this house, who she thought might meet those needs.

Her reveries were interrupted by Mark, his chores completed, coming to the swing with a glass of wine of his own. He sat beside her. She made up her mind. If she thought about it, she wouldn't do it. And that would be a source of everlasting regret.

But what about Mark? What did he want? Did he want the same thing as her? Could he be brought to want it? Or would he be appalled by the very suggestion?

Well, there was a simple way to find out.

'Mark.' It was said cautiously, almost timidly. She needed to be brave.

'Yes?'

'When I... When those men... When I was naked...'

Mark covered his face with his hands. 'Don't. I felt so ashamed.'

'And you had no reason. You were outnumbered. They could have killed us and they probably would have. You did the sensible thing.'

'I suppose...'

'And then, when that one came back, you dealt with him.'

'I was so glad Dad made me do those courses.'

'And so am I. But what I wanted to say... When I was naked... When you saw me... I think you liked what you saw.'

'Oh, Bella, please don't.'

She put out a hand and touched his face. 'I'm not being critical, Mark. There were three men there who treated me like animals. And there was you, who would have protected me if he could, and did protect me when the odds were more even, and you looked at me in a way that was different from the way that they looked at me.'

Mark looked down at the ground but made no attempt to shake off her hand. She put the other hand to his other cheek and moved slowly towards him, giving him every opportunity to pull away. He didn't move. She kissed him on the lips, gently at first and then with increasing ardour. He put his arms around her and kissed her back. She leaned away, still holding and still held but far enough to look him in the eye. 'Would you like to see me naked again?'

'Oh. Oh, Bella.'

'Forgive me, but is that a yes?'

He couldn't bring himself to speak the word, but he nodded. She kissed him again. Then she said, 'Here's what I'd like you to do. I'd like you to go upstairs and take a shower and get into bed. Mum and Dad's bed, please, because it's the biggest in the house. If you decide that this really isn't what you want, close the bedroom door and I promise I won't trouble you. But if, when I've finished this wine and made sure all the doors are locked, I find that you are in bed and the door is open, I will come to you.'

THE DOORS WERE LOCKED. The sound of the shower had ended and then she had heard Mark's footsteps crossing the landing. She walked upstairs. The bedroom door was open.

When those men had forced her to undress, she had believed she would rather become a nun than ever again submit to male possession. Now, as she stood before him, stripping for him and watching expressions of adoration cross his face, she knew it would be possible to put the whole of that dreadful episode behind her. Not to forget it -- she couldn't do that -- but to let it be something that did not affect her. When she was down to her knickers, she climbed into bed beside him. 'Have you ever taken off a girl's knickers?'

He shook his head; words seemed beyond him.

'Would you like to?'

'Oh, Bella, I would.'

She snuggled against him. 'Before you do... Do you remember what that man did to me before he took me? The thing that made me so angry?'

Very quietly, he whispered, 'I do.'

'What made me so angry was that that is something that should be done with love. With tenderness. With care for the woman. And he did it to make me feel small.'

Still whispering, he said, 'I understand. Would you like me to do it for you?'

'I wouldn't force anything on anyone. And I know that some men don't like it. They seem to think it's dirty.'

'They must be crazy.'

'Well, I do think the woman needs to have a shower first. But I've had one. And if you'd really like to...'

IT WAS A GOOD THING THE HOUSE WAS DETACHED and some distance from the next, because when his tongue brought her to orgasm the joyous scream she unleashed would have woken the dead. She lay back and looked up at him. 'My hero. Thank you. And now, it's your turn.'

And she reached down and guided him into her. And, as she watched his joy as he entered her, took her, rode her, she knew that everything would be all right. She had been possessed against her will, forced to undress, goaded to an unwilling climax, ravished. Raped. Those men had done all those things to her.

But she had not been conquered.