Free Angel in Scarlet by Jennifer Wilde Page B

exclaimed.
    â€œWhatever for?” I asked coolly.
    â€œThe things you said to ’im! Never knew you had so much brass. Me, I was shakin’ like a leaf the whole time.”
    I stood up and casually brushed my skirt and she popped up, too, enormous brown eyes sparkling with excitement. A gentle spring breeze caused the apple blossoms to rustle, a few delicate pink-white scraps falling slowly to the grass. I wasn’t nearly as calm as I pretended to be, but Eppie wouldn’t ever know how shaken I was. I had my pride to maintain.
    â€œHe wanted you!” she cried as we started back down High Street.
    â€œWhy don’t you talk a little louder, Eppie. I don’t think the butcher heard you.”
    â€œI told you you had something,” she continued. “You may not be beautiful, but Clinton Meredith was sure ready to pleasure you—and I hear he does it good. ”
    â€œHe’s had a lot of practice.”
    â€œAnd you cool as could be—and cheeky! I’d never have the nerve to speak to ’im like that. Isn’t he the handsomest thing you ever set eyes on! If it’d been me he’d wanted I’d’ve leaped at the chance.”
    â€œI don’t doubt it.”
    â€œSometimes I worry about you, Angie. I really do. I can understand you not bein’ interested in Will Peterson and his kind, you’re too refined for ’em—but Clinton Meredith! I suppose you think he ’s not good enough for you either?”
    â€œAs a matter of fact, he isn’t,” I replied.
    Eppie shook her head and said I was the most bewilderin’ person she’d ever met, she’d never be able to figure me out. We walked past the school, past the greengrocer’s and the bake shop, then Eppie sighed and said she guessed she’d better be gettin’ on home. We parted company, and I left the village, walking slowly down the shady lane. Sunlight seeped through the limbs overhead, dappling the lane with shimmering flecks of gold. I could smell leaf and bark and pungent soil, rich country smells, and I longed to tear off my shoes and run through the woods and feel the wind on my cheeks and be carefree, a child again, climbing trees, gathering mushrooms, getting into mischief, not fifteen and too tall and prey to all the emotions constantly churning inside.
    Clinton Meredith had wanted to lay me, me, plain and gawky, not beautiful like my stepsisters, and that frightened me, but … I had to admit that it excited me, too. I was a good girl, a virgin, and I intended to stay that way, but it was exciting to … to think a man found me desirable. Even Clinton Meredith, sod that he was. I could appreciate his good looks, his sensual mouth and those seductive gray eyes under the heavy lids, but he hadn’t stirred a single tremor in my blood, not that way. He was too conceited, too sure of himself by far, and his superior air put me off, but … he had wanted to lay me, said I had gorgeous hair and a provocative mouth. Maybe … maybe one day the right man would find me desirable, too.
    With these long legs? With this skinny body and too big breasts and high cheekbones? Not bloody likely, Angie, I told myself. Clinton Meredith was lookin’ for tail and anything with a heart murmur would do, long as he was able to spend himself. Don’t go gettin’ smug. Take a good look at Janine, take a good look at Solonge, then peer into the mirror and see how bloody pleased with yourself you are.
    A week passed, two, and I was restless as a kitten, unable to concentrate, unable to take an interest in anything. I snapped at Eppie and we quarreled and made up the next day and then quarreled again. She called me a snooty little bitch and I called her a hateful little slut and vowed never to speak to her again. I performed my chores with lassitude, clumsy as could be, incurring Marie’s wrath when I broke half a dozen dishes. My father kept to his