Free Where There is Hope [Taos Wolven Mates 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Tianna Xander Page A

women’s unmentionables. You would not believe the way the men looked at the things when they were out in the main room.” She clucked her tongue. “The men, they do so want mates. I am sad for them.”
    She picked out seven sets of pantaloons, three long, shirt-like garments, two corsets, and several petticoats, all the while ignoring Hope’s protests that she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing most of what she picked out.
    “Hush, Miss Hope. Of course you will be a proper lady. Otherwise, men passing through town might mistake you for a loose woman. Only a loose woman would go out without the proper underthings.” She smiled. “Though you do not wear the proper things now, I know you are not a painted lady. I can tell these things. After all, I am French!”
    Hope wanted to laugh at the other woman’s antics as she flitted about the store, grabbing hair ribbons and pins, stockings and shoes.
    “You cannot wear those shoes.” She wrinkled her nose at the clunky black shoes the men provided for her. Following Amelie over to another area of the store, Hope pressed her lips together when she saw the shoes the French woman was so proud to have on display.
    “You see these?” She held up a black, ankle-length boot with a two-inch heel. The laces fed through six sets of eyes then laced up the ankles with hooks.
    Hope couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen anything but a pair of ice skates that laced up the way the shoes did. Where did they get this stuff, from a costume shop?
    Whatever. She would let the woman pick out what clothes she would, because that was what she was supposed to do with newcomers, apparently. It wasn’t as though they couldn’t wash the things and bring them right back here when she was through with them. This was a reenactment, not real life, for God’s sake.
    “This is the last thing you need,” Amelie said, picking up a large bag that looked as though it was made out of someone’s gaudy red-and-gold rug. “A satchel to pack your things in.” She looked up at the counter with a frown then looked back at the bag. “This will not do. It is not big enough.” She set the bag back down and moved down the aisle a bit. “Here we are.” She picked up one end of a trunk and started dragging it to the front.
    “Here let me help.” Hope rushed to the other end and tried to pick it up. It weighed a ton and it was empty! Man, either she’d grown weak, or this woman was strong. “Holy cow! This is heavy.”
    “Do not worry, Mademoiselle Hope. It is not heavy for me. I am of sturdy stock.”
    Yesterday, Hope would have said the same thing. Now she wasn’t so sure. This woman was made of very sturdy stock if she could lift that end and carry it. Maybe it had something to do with the hard life they must lead here doing everything the hard way, the way they used to in the old days.
    “I feel useless.”
    “Never feel that way, Hope,” Joran said as he moved to help Amelie by picking up the other end of the trunk. “You are many things, but useless is not one of them.” He winked at her before she looked away.
    She couldn’t even pack the thing. When they set it down and opened it up, Hope had no idea that certain items of clothing went in certain areas. Apparently, everything had a specific compartment in the bottom, except the dresses which Amelie attached to one end by the hanger so if someone stood it on end, the dresses would hang instead of falling into a heap at the bottom.
    “How can you tell which end goes up?”
    “Do you see the name across the top of the trunk?” Amelie pointed to what must have been the name of the manufacturer. At Hope’s nod, she continued. “When the writing is upright, the trunk is set as it should be.”
    “Oh! That makes sense, but I don’t see how you could make baggage handlers care what end is supposed to go up. In my experience, they jerk the bags up and throw them around like sacks of rubbish.” At least that was what had happened to