Chapter Thirteen
The evening train from Barcelona left with Antonia on board, headed for Cartagena and the Marquis’ home. Miguel traveled with her to guard against her running away. She wore an oversized, long, plain black dress in an attempt to hide her s****l body from gawking strangers, but it was difficult not to stare at her; she looked like a widow with a black lace mantilla covering her face, which was now puffy from crying. Her entire body ached; and yet, her groin was still on fire with a lust she hated.
She took a seat by the window at the front of the railcar. Sitting beside her, Miguel placidly thumbed through an evening paper. He was not so much reading as passing time. They were nearly late for the train, because Rupert would not allow Antonia to leave until she’d cleaned
