Page 37 of Stripped

Chapter 19

They traveled north up the A9. Pim was trying to keep track of where they were going. She glanced over at Wraith, confused with the different emotions that coursed through her. The spanking was disconcerting not only for the fact that he did it, but more so for the way she reacted to it. Her bottom still burned with the imprint of his hand as if its heated reflection claimed her as his. That's my girl. She had never broken down in front of someone before, had never cried in front of another, not even when her father died. She learned at a young age to keep her tears to herself; they were never allowed in ballet. To submit in the end and have him hold her and not only want, but need, his comfort, left her raw.

"Have you calmed down?" he asked, looking over his shoulder as he changed lanes.

She nodded, the gag rendering her speechless. "No filthy words or I'll pull over and put it back on you." He reached behind her and untied the knot, taking his tie from her mouth.

She coughed several times. Her hands were still bound behind her back and her shoulders ached from the uncomfortable position. "I'm going to lose my role. Peter will give it to someone else if I don't show up tomorrow." She could feel drool dripping down her chin.

"Then it will be my fault." He wiped her face with his handkerchief. "I'll have you back on Friday. I'll call him and explain something came up with the will and you had to go to Edinburgh."

"We're not going to Edinburgh."

"No, we're headed north, to the Highlands. Somewhere safe until I can figure out what's going on. Why did you go to Possilpark?" he asked, pulling the car over on the side of the road. He got out and opened her door. Undoing the handcuffs, he rubbed her shoulders and looked at her wrists.

She didn't want to look at him. She should be furious with him, but his touch sparked the same feeling of security as before, offering her a refuge.

He kissed the side of her head. "Don't be too cross with me," he said, getting back in.

She bit her lip, wondering how much to tell him. "I went to see Natasha."

"How did that go?"

In the end, she told him everything she had learned. All the horrible things Natasha had gone through, of her grandfather being a child molester, of the young boy, his son, the ugly web of deceit and lies, ensnaring the innocent and tangling everyone involved into its trap. He didn't say anything, just listened, and reaching over, he took her hand in his, lacing their fingers.

It was a while before he spoke, the highway giving way to winding roads the farther north they traveled. "What happened at the ballet academy? Why were you expelled?" he asked.

She looked over at him, but his face looked as if it had been carved from stone. "How do you know about that?"

"Primrose, it's what I do."

"Why do you care? It was a long time ago."

He still held her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Curiosity, I guess."

"I told you I hit a point in my life when I didn't want to dance anymore. That summer, I was attending a program in New York. Instead of going to class, I got a fake ID and partied. I was completely self-destructive. They kicked me out of the program and called my grandfather. When I got back to London, my reputation followed me and I was expelled from the academy."

"But you got back in."

"My grandfather made a big donation. I was brought back on probation, but there were repercussions," she said. "I was shunned. For six months, none of my teachers would speak to me and the other students avoided me. I went to class, but I never got a correction, never got picked to demonstrate, was never chosen to be in any choreographer's dances. I was basically an outcast."

"That seems a bit extreme." A pained expression creased his face.

"It was, but I learned from it. I knew my father would have been disappointed in me. That's what hurt the most, the thought that he would have been ashamed. So, I became determined not to give up. I held my head high in class and took everyone else's corrections as my own. Eventually, things settled down."

"Did your love for dance come back?"

"It's all I know. And love can change." She pulled her hand from his. "What I felt when I was younger, was naïve. It's more of an understanding now, a give and take, the constant strive for perfection."

He looked at her with a depth of understanding, which surprised her. "Why don't you close your eyes. We still have a way to go."

The winter moon slivered the sky, dark amongst the stars. It was late when they arrived. Wraith pulled the car off the dirt road and drove a short distance to a copse of trees, parking it near a small croft hidden by large scotch pines. "Stay here. Let me check it out," he said, going into the cabin. It was a few minutes before he came back and got her. He grabbed her bag, helping her out. The biting cold of the night cut through her sweater and her breath iced before her like a white shadow. Inside, it was no more than one room with a bed, a kitchen table and two armchairs. A dim yellow light lit up Wraith's face as he started an old oil lamp. He set it on the table beside a box of food and supplies someone had left. Pim shivered.

"Here," Wraith said, leading her over to one of the chairs. He took off his jacket and put it around her. "There's no electricity, but it's safe." He bent down and added wood and peat to the fireplace and soon had a warm blaze going. "Are you hungry?"

She shook her head.

"A drink?" He pulled a bottle of whiskey from the crate, pouring them each a glass.

---