NINETEEN
Ursula ran all the way to the kitchen, careless of the water sloshing onto her skirt. She poured herself a cup of the strong berry wine, and drank it down in three gulps, hoping it would settle both her churning belly and her shaking hands.
She'd touched his manhood. She'd touched the manhood of a man who was not her husband. What would her father say? She'd never get a husband now. For what man would want her, knowing that she'd touched another man's...
She blew out a shaky breath. Not just touched it. She'd stretch her hand out and stroked the length of it, just the once, wanting to know what it felt like. Harder than his leg, yet the skin had been so much softer. How was that even possible?
She could ask him, she supposed. But of course she could not. Touching him like that
