My Liege of Dark Haven

Chapter Five

“Malum!” she muttered in Latin under her breath. A bad thing indeed. Xavier seemed more irritated than angry, but he certainly didn’t pull his punches. His bluntness, unleavened by any courtesy, was unsettling. Was this kind of honesty a Dom trait?

Wouldn’t that be an interesting research topic?

When he made a threatening noise, she dragged her attention back and quickly climbed onto the table. The padding under the rubber-backed sheet was black leather, like an ominous version of her doctor’s exam table. Wider, though. The dangling straps and inset D rings didn’t alleviate her insecurities at all.

“Lie back,” he directed. A barmaid handed him his overnight-sized leather bag.

Too insecure to comply, Abby stared at the bag. He’d have stuff in it. As a cry came from across the room, she glanced toward the scene she’d been watching and—

Disconcertingly powerful hands closed on her shoulders, and Xavier pushed her flat on her back. “I don’t think you’re deliberately disobedient, Abby, but you’re quite distractible.” His lips twitched. “You’ll dent a Dom’s fragile ego if you don’t pay attention to him.”

He really did have a sense of humor. It wasn’t slapstick blatant but almost hidden. And attractive. “You don’t have a fragile ego.” Not even close.

Pillowing her skull in his palm, he leaned on his arm. He stood close enough she could smell his aftershave of rich spices with a hint of exotic resins. Tiny flecks of gold warmed his dark eyes. His lips looked hard, but she remembered their velvety texture.

He kissed her. His firm lips moved over hers, then teased her mouth open. His tongue swept in, stroking hers in a leisurely plundering. Gripping her hair, he pulled her head back, giving him a better angle to take her mouth. His growl of approval whispered down her spine even as his hand curved around her jaw, securing her more fully. Aggressive—too aggressive—yet heat smoldered under her skin as if she stood in front of a wall heater.

Heavens, the man could kiss. Don’t get swept away. Regaining her self-possession, she tried to experiment, teasing with her tongue.

He lifted his head. “You have a very active mind, little fluff. Tonight I’m going to find out what it takes to turn your brain off.”

“You…what?” Her brain was who she was. She tried to sit up.

He chuckled and flattened her, reinforcing the movement with a look that promised bad things if she didn’t stay put. When she stopped struggling, he buckled a cuff on her left wrist and clipped the D ring to the side of the table beside her thigh. Then he did the same for the other wrist.

Well, this kind of bondage wasn’t too bad. She had a lot of freedom still, and her legs were free.

He started unhooking her corset.

“What are you doing?”

His face held amused exasperation. “Abby, how many submissives have you noticed wearing clothing during a scene?”

“Um. One.”

A smile flickered over his lips. “And that was because…?”

“The Domme wanted to cut his shirt off with her whip.”

When her corset fell open, he pulled it from under her and tossed it on a chair. The air cooled her damp skin and tightened her nipples.

He removed her skirt, and thank goodness she’d indulged in buying sexy underwear. The corner of his mouth lifted as he ran a finger across the lace of her dark-red, cheeky panties. “Nice. Lace and red both look good on you.” The compliment delighted her, but when he started to pull the pantie off, she instinctively closed her legs.

He administered a sharp slap to the front of her thigh.

“Ow!” The spot burned. The realization that he wouldn’t let her get away with anything sent a quiver of vulnerability through her…and woke excitement in her belly.

He continued stripping her as if he hadn’t done anything unusual. Does he smack women every day? The pantie landed on top of her corset. When he rested his wide palm on her bare stomach in the same way another man might take her hand, the casualness of his touch shook her.

“Abby, I’ve indulged you up to now because you’re new. You said you’d done some reading about BDSM?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you know, intellectually, at least, how to behave.”

His sharp gaze sliced a pathway through her thoughts. “Yes, sir.”

“Do so. I warn you, if you start watching other scenes, I’ll increase the intensity here.” He picked up a strap, letting the end trail over her stomach. “We Doms are rather competitive, you know.”

Intensity? That didn’t sound good at all. Yet she was aroused. Her skin felt so sandblasted that each brush of the leather set her nerves to firing.

Xavier secured the strap below her breasts, pinning her to the table. “Can you breathe?”

She couldn’t sit up. Couldn’t escape. “I…I don’t…” Like a flooding river, anxiety roared in her head.

“Take a slow breath.” His smooth voice broke through the noise and panic. “Another.” As he stroked a warm hand up and down her arm, her heart slowed. Her mind turned back on.

Why in the world had she gone off like that? She’d watched bondage scenes with no uneasiness. But this was more frightening than being restrained. Xavier had neatly plucked control from her without her seeing it coming.

With Nathan she’d always backed off before he’d got to this point. Because…because a small part of her worried that if she angered him, he’d leave her restrained—or worse, would do something she didn’t want.

Xavier had sneaked up on her. He was the most self-confident man she’d ever met, like how he simply waited for her to get comfortable. Somehow she knew he wouldn’t risk her safety even if he lost his temper—which she doubted happened during a scene. This Dom was all about control and responsibility.

“Ready?”

Sucking in a breath, as if she were preparing for an injection, she nodded.

He picked up another strap. “Remember your safe word is red. You tell me if the restraints are uncomfortable or if you get too anxious with them. Do you understand, Abby?”

His voice reverberated down to the inner person deep inside her. “Yes, my liege.”

“Very pretty.” His light kiss was a reward.

But her nervousness rose again. Maybe she trusted him—mostly. But to give him all the control? She never let that happen—especially with sex. Yet her defenses were slipping out of her grasp, as if he’d rolled over in bed, taking her sheets with him and leaving her exposed. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Never looking away from her face, he fastened another strap, this one above her breasts. The pressure tightened the skin and made her breasts mountain up between the straps. “I see this is frightening to you, Abby. Can you trust me to give you what you need?”

“Need? I’m not sure we have the same definition of the word.”

Appreciation of her response lit his eyes. “Submissives and Dominants often disagree over what a sub needs, even when viewing the same problem.” Leaning on his forearm, he fondled her breasts almost absentmindedly. His gentle plucking of her nipples fired sizzles of heat downward until her labia and clitoris tingled.

Another strap went across her pelvis. “For example.” His big hand flattened over where her ugly stomach pooched out. “You look at yourself and think you need to lose weight.”

Exactly. This was why she needed to stay in clothing. Her lips tightened.

“I see you and think you should accept the beauty of your body and stop searching for flaws.” His voice held an inescapable firmness. He leaned down, hands curving on each side of her waist as he nuzzled her belly. “Mmm. All this softness is incredibly seductive, Abigail.”

His words might not have convinced her, but his heavy-lidded look of pleasure and the way his hands lingered and stroked provided confirmation. Besides, he was my liege. He didn’t need to hand out pretty compliments to seduce. Any unattached submissive in the club would—and did—beg to be with him.

Had he called her Abigail? She frowned. “My name is Abby.”

“But Abigail is correct, is it not? It’s on the forms.” He put a cuff around her left ankle and clipped it to the lower corner of the table. After pulling her legs wide apart, he restrained the right leg.

“What are you doing?”

“Whatever I want.” He held her gaze with his.

The table seemed to drop a foot, leaving her stomach behind.

Smiling slightly, he set his palm over her pussy, and the heat and pressure against her clitoris shivered through her. “Although I won’t use my mouth or cock down here, I intend to use my fingers—and other things—on you, Abigail. Is that a problem?”

“Other things?” She stared. “No matter what people in high office might believe, that’s still a type of sex.”

His chuckle was like dark chocolate for the ears. “Yes, it is.” He brushed over her outer labia and held up his fingers to display the glistening wetness. “Again, is this a problem for you? Or are you a virgin?”

When she glared at him, he swatted her thigh. Harder.

Her skin stung, and she couldn’t move to rub the burning. Don’t glare at the Dom, moron.

After shaking his head in a reprimand, he waited.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. The light pain seemed to drain from her leg to her core, which had started to throb with need.

“I daresay you’ll learn manners eventually.” His hand returned to lie against her pussy, right where she was the wettest. “Now answer my questions. Politely.”

“I’m not a virgin.” Which I’m sure you knew. “I hadn’t thought about touching. Sexually.” She hadn’t planned to do anything, and now here she was, naked, strapped down, and being openly stimulated. Wasn’t this wrong? Didn’t she love Nathan?

How could someone else excite her?

But Nathan hadn’t wanted her. She was free to act as she pleased. In fact, he’d probably found someone else already. The realization made her feel lonely even as her anger rose.

Xavier’s gaze grew more intent. “That’s an excessive amount of thinking for a simple question.”

Sex is never simple. “Touching and…things…aren’t a problem.”

“Very good.” Now that she’d told him he could touch her, the jerk moved his hand away. How perverse was that?

Her attempt to rein in her glare probably exploded brain cells throughout her skull.

His lips pressed together, and he was obviously trying not to laugh. “Abby, you’re truly a delight.” With one finger, he guided a lock of hair behind her ear. “Now, I could blindfold you to keep you in the present, but you’ll be more comfortable if you can see me.”

She nodded even though he wasn’t asking permission—merely telling her what would happen. Undoubtedly this was his version of negotiation. After all, he’d seen her limits list. She began to think she should have marked no to a whole lot more items.

Which way did most submissives choose—to try or to refuse the majority of the options? Wouldn’t that be a great subject to research? She’d theorize that submissive traits would lead people to—

Xavier made a warning sound.

She blinked and realized he was staring at her. Uh-oh.

“You are something, pet,” he murmured. He stroked a finger across her lower lip, down her chin, the slow progress of his warm fingertip excruciatingly sensual. After circling the hollow of her neck, he kissed her there, his lips velvety, before his finger trailed along the highest strap. Her breasts, already compressed, tightened further, and her nipples throbbed as if demanding he detour to attend to them.

His touch slid between her breasts, circled the left, then spiraled inward to the nipple.

Oh please, touch me.

He plucked the peak gently, and the sensation felt like light bursting through stained glass, brightening everything in her body. The next pull was harder, making her labia throb as well. When he pinched and held without releasing, the pain lit something deep inside her, sparking a disconcerting sensation of pleasure.

Her thoughts wavered as her need to escape conflicted with the desire to arch into his grasp.

Smiling, he released her nipple, and blood flowed back in with a rush. “These will be a beautiful, deep red when I finish,” he said, not looking up. His finger circled the areola.

Her clitoris tingled and burned, but she didn’t want him to…to touch her. Not there. Except she really, really did want him to. No. Yes. Gritting her teeth, she looked away from him, trying to distract herself. She was supposed to be doing research, after all, not letting some…person…play with her. What kind of a slut was she anyway?

Across the room, the Dom scrubbed the equipment while the Domme dispensed water and hugs to the blanket-wrapped submissives. How did two Dominants decide who was in—

“You’re deliberately diverting yourself,” Xavier stated. It wasn’t a question.

Her gaze shot up.

“I thought you became sidetracked by the activities around you—that you needed to discipline yourself—but that’s not it. You mentally escaped from here, much as someone would run away on foot. Why?”

“I… The scene over there was interesting.”

His black brows drew together, and his eyes hardened. “No. You looked over there to distract yourself. You performed the same maneuver with Seth.” He leaned a hip on the table, completely at ease, conversing with her while she was naked, legs open for everyone to see her genital area. “I don’t think there’s any question you’re submissive, Abigail, and that you’re aroused. Does arousal make you so uncomfortable you need to escape?”

As a flush flooded her face, she pulled and twisted, wanting free of the straps. Who was he to question her about her feelings?

He cupped her breast, using his thumb to idly toy with the nipple. Her back started to arch, and she stiffened. No. The feeling of need was…wrong. Her responses weren’t under her control—her body was short-circuiting her thoughts.

“Are you afraid of being aroused?”

“Of course not.” Fear wouldn’t be the right word. Uncomfortable…definitely.

His eyes narrowed, his gaze intent. He rolled her nipple between his fingers, and her eyes closed at the rush of sensation. When he stopped, she struggled to pull herself together, to—

“It’s the loss of control that bothers you,” he murmured. “Not the arousal, especially, but it destroys your ability to stay in your head. To think.” He leaned down to stroke her face. “Little fluff, don’t you realize that’s what being submissive is all about? Giving up control so you don’t have to think or worry? For the time we are together in this scene, thinking is my job.”

His words sent a stab of fear and—and something hopeful—through her. Low in her belly, a disconcerting flutter of anticipation started, like the flapping of a curtain in a freshening storm. “Xavier.”

“Try again.”

“My liege, I don’t want… This isn’t…” She couldn’t think.

“You don’t have to analyze it here. Do you trust me, right now, to control this scene—and you—for the next half hour to an hour?”

If she said no, she’d hurt his feelings. And she did trust him. Mostly. Could she let him have his way? “You won’t gag me?”

“No, Abby.” His smile was tender. “You’re not ready for that.”

But what would he do? She wanted to find out…kind of. “All right.”

“Good girl.” To her consternation, he pulled her glasses off.

“No!”

He squinted through the lenses. “They’re for distance, hmm? Can you see my face?”

“Somewhat, but not as well as when they’re on.”

“And the other scene?”

She turned her head. Anything farther away than about three feet turned blurry. “No.” Being half-blind was too, too scary. “I want my glasses.”

“No.” The absent way he said it, as if she didn’t have a choice, set off an odd shimmer in her bones. He regarded her soberly. “You’re scared without them? More than being bound to a table?”

“I’m trying not to think about bondage,” she said grumpily.

He grinned, swift and wonderful.

“And yes, I’m scared. What if something happened, like a fire?” She wouldn’t be able to find her way out. “Or a terrorist attack. Or zombies.”

He chuckled. “I do like submissives with imagination.”

That wasn’t imagination—just being prepared.

“First, I would never, ever leave someone who is restrained.” He laid his hand on her face as if to promise. “However, we can compromise. You may keep them close.” He tucked her glasses beside her thigh, where her fingers could trace the metal. “Not in your hand, though—you might crush them without realizing it.”

How would that happen? As her anxiety increased to the level of a thesis defense, his lips quirked.

From his bag he pulled an eight-inch box, a water bottle, tiny hand wipes, a… Was that yogurt? Finally he took out a vibrator, still in its packaging. “This is your first toy from me.”

I didn’t ask for a toy.

He ran his hand between her legs, tracing her folds, sending her body into joyful anticipation. Her clit throbbed with demand. His finger circled as if measuring for size, then thrust inside, almost like a medical exam…only no doctor had ever made her feel like this.

Knowing she couldn’t avoid his intimate touch—or anything he chose to do—sent waves of heat through her. And worse, she couldn’t direct where she wanted his hands. She tried to tilt her hips up, to get him to pay attention to her clit, but the strap over her lower belly prevented any movement. Her skin felt as if it were on fire.

He added another finger, stretching her. The fluttering in her belly grew as he explored her and watched her, as if getting her accustomed to his touch. When he stroked a spot inside her that made her feel as if her clit had turned upside down, she made a gurgling noise.

“Oh?” He lingered, rubbing that place over and over, relentlessly increasing her needy hunger until even her toes strained upward.

“Good girl,” he said and slid the toy into her vagina. The shaft was cool and soft and slick and so much bigger than two fingers. She shuddered as it stretched her.

He flipped a switch, and the mild vibrations didn’t hit anything important—like her clit—yet her body felt as if he’d ratcheted up the pressure.

When he pulled on a pair of gloves, she stiffened. “What… I marked no to blood play.”

“Abigail.”

He knows that. She swallowed hard before craning her neck to check the items he’d put on the table. No knives. No needles. Okay. Maybe.

The vibrations were making her clit burn with need. Her body felt…strange. Unfamiliar. When her gaze tracked over toward the other scene, she caught herself. She really did try to escape, didn’t she?

And now she wasn’t paying attention to the Dom. She forced her gaze back to him.

“Don’t worry, pet.” His dark eyes were too perceptive. “You’re not going to have a choice about thinking in a minute. I won’t permit it.” He inserted a cotton swab into one vial and painted her left nipple with the liquid. It smelled like what he’d smeared on her arm yesterday. Like Christmas candles. Or cinnamon. He wanted her breasts to smell like pie? Was there such a thing as a smell fetish?

He shook his head. “That mind of yours is a busy one.” He did the other areola.

As the cool air touched her wet nipples, they bunched into hard peaks.

Without saying anything, he tossed the cotton swab into the basket, followed by the gloves. He moved slowly, deliberately, as if in a ritualized dance, as he tightened her ankle restraints and ran his hands over her trim calves. When he continued upward past her pretty knees, she wanted to hide. “You have beautiful legs, Abby.”

And fat, white thighs. You bet.

“Pale skin has a fascinating texture.” His smile glimmered for a second. “Like Egyptian cotton sheets with a thread count of six hundred or so.”

Delight at the compliment ran through her, increased by the way he stroked her thighs, showing he was enjoying himself. She held her breath when his calloused fingers curled around her hips, and his thumbs caressed the crease outside her labia. So close.

He leaned over and kissed her stomach, and she really, really wanted those lips farther down. Why had she set limits like no sex? I want sex.

His kisses descended until his breath ruffled the fine curly hair covering her mound.

“I…I don’t shave there,” she offered. “I—”

“Sometimes I insist on it. Sometimes I don’t,” he said. He fluffed her curls, sending a jolt of heat through her. “At the moment I don’t want you to shave. I like the white-tipped look against all that pink.”

His finger circled her belly button idly, as if he was killing time, waiting for…

Oooh, my breasts! Each nipple felt as if a wet mouth had closed over it, and the warmth increased steadily into heat. Her breath caught. He’d swabbed that ointment on her. No wonder he’d worn gloves. “You…”

“Me.” His voice took on a hint of steel. “You don’t speak again, unless to use your safe word or yellow to indicate you’re frightened.”

“I was at yellow the minute I walked in the door.”

His laugh was as deeply masculine as his voice. “Then tell me when you reach orange.”

After donning new gloves, he chose a different vial and swabbed the outside of her inner labia. A minute later, the tissues turned cool, like an icy breath mint with a decided bite. Her nipples continued to grow hotter.

Uncanny sensations coursed through her: cold here, heat there, vibrations inside. She needed more. Something. When he picked up another vial, she tensed. I don’t want that. I want sex.

He held up the dampened cotton swab where she could see it, and the longer he waited, the more she felt everything he’d already done. A terrifying anticipation bubbled in her veins.

With a faint smile, he slowly and thoroughly rubbed the swab on her clitoris.

Oh, oh, oh. The roughness of the cotton was an exquisite torment. She inhaled hard, breathed out. In. Out. Nothing happened. She took an easier breath. That one wasn’t so bad.

Setting the swab and gloves aside, he stroked the outsides of her breasts, then trailed a finger down the center of her torso to above her pubic mound. Playing with her, fondling her, letting the vibrator, the ointments keep her arousal at an uncomfortable pitch. But why—

The stuff on her clit turned hot. Unlike the heat on her nipples, this was a thousand fiery needles attacking the nub of nerves. No. Sweat broke out on her upper lip, then over the rest of her body. It was too much. Vibrating inside. Her nipples burned, her folds felt icy, yet the most sensitive spot was on fire.

He bent and blew a stream of air right at her pussy. Her back arched as everything increased. Cold. Hot. She moaned.

“There’s a good girl.” With a low laugh, he upped the vibrator one notch.

Her insides clenched around the shaft as sensations rioted over her. Hot and cold and biting hot, and her core trembled around the buzzing vibrator.

In the stew of overload, she heard someone laugh nearby, and the smack of a paddle, and a scream. She inhaled the fragrance of cinnamon. Peppermint. The air seemed to billow around her, and she couldn’t focus. Too hot, and yet not, and as each second passed, the need to come clawed at her until her body shook with it. “I… Please…”

No, wasn’t supposed to talk. She bit the words back, feeling as if the ground were quaking.

A sound made her look up. Xavier had pulled on new gloves and squirted on lubricant. Standing beside her hip, he watched her as he ran slick fingers around her burning nipples. Slow, hot circles. Down below, her folds were cold, but her clit felt as if tiny teeth gently gnawed at it, and now… The lube cooled her areolas and then heated them more.

When he rolled her nipples between his hard fingers, edgy pain joined the sensual collage, and her body shuddered. Her whole core had become one giant nerve.

“Pretty little Abby. I like seeing your eyes go unfocused.” His voice was a low murmur, a soothing background to the upheaval inside her.

She wanted to say something, only couldn’t escape the hold her body had. Too many things were divorcing her brain from any ability to process. Her insides coiled as the pressure grew higher and higher, but never, ever enough.

Her legs tried to draw together to rub her burning, aching clit. Nothing would move. Her hands fisted as another wave of heat rolled over her. She stared up at him helplessly.

He leaned forward, his gaze trapping her, so dark and direct and pleased that a whimper escaped her.

“That’s a good sound. You’re ready, aren’t you?” He moved his left hand between her legs, and his lubed fingers rubbed her clit with featherlight strokes. Even the lightest friction… She moaned as her core contracted around the vibe tightly that vibrations shook her body. The pressure grew with each slow stroke of his slick fingers, coiling tighter and tighter. Her back arched, holding, holding…

Then his finger firmly pressed on her clit even as he wiggled the vibrator in a circle. Outside sensations and inside ones merged in a glorious rush, knotting and blowing apart. A tidal wave of pleasure broke over her. Her insides convulsed, tightening around the vibrator, and the feeling of being penetrated sent her higher.

Xavier’s fingers slid over her clit, and another breaker hit, shoving her further into the ocean of sensation. Drowning her in it. She gasped for breath and quaked as lingering waves rolled over her.

Her body eased down in shuddery jerks until she could feel her heart and hear herself breathing.

“Very nice,” Xavier said, his low, smoky voice filled with approval. “Go again.” He leaned down and blew.

The gust of air slid first over her pussy, chilling the ointment, and then over her clit, where heat erupted like a volcano. Her body arched up in a terrifying convulsion of pleasure before dropping her back limp to the table.

THE LITTLE FLUFF certainly wasn’t thinking of anything else at the moment.

Pleased, Xavier watched her pant for breath. Sweat-dampened hair clung to her temples, and her face had turned a gorgeous pink. She stared up at him with unfocused gray eyes. He changed gloves again and tugged on the vibrator. She gave a delightful gasp, and her cunt clenched, trying to keep it in.

A shame he couldn’t replace the toy with his cock.

He kept an eye on her expressions as he removed the peppermint, cinnamon, and hot pepper ointments with the various cleaning agents he thought best. Nothing worked perfectly, and she’d still have a residue of heat. Then again, he rather enjoyed knowing a scene would linger, not only in a submissive’s mind but also on her body.

He released the restraints and put her glasses back on. Not that she was seeing much. He gently sat her on the floor at his feet and tucked a blanket around her. She sagged against the table leg as he cleaned the scene area and handed off his bag to a staff member.

After taking a bottled water from the nearest service stand, he lifted her into his arms.

She squeaked and froze.

He grinned. Submissives had the sweetest startle reflexes. “Shhh.” He rubbed his chin on her silky hair. “I’ve got you, Abby. Take a breath.”

Not moving, he waited, willing to stand all night until she relaxed. Until she physically showed him the trust he wanted. The submission he demanded.

Her little body stayed stiff, and he knew her instincts would be screaming that he might let her fall. After an orgasm, she was very vulnerable, very open to emotions. Holding her like this, keeping her both dependent on him and safe, would start building the trust she needed to have in him.

A minute. Two. Her exhausted body melted.

“There we go.” He kissed her hair, pulling her closer. She was so soft. Not light, but she had a nice heft that let him know he held a woman. Someone who wouldn’t break under his weight and his size.

No, don’t go down that path. She was his receptionist, not his submissive. But even as he’d pulled her into the play, she’d involved him just as deeply.

Of course he could tell himself the scene tonight was just a lesson given to a staff member.

He tried not to lie to himself. He’d enjoyed this scene far more than mere instruction would warrant. He wanted to play with her again, to see how much further he could take her. To hear and feel her response when he entered her. When he took her gently. Or roughly.

He settled into one of the oversize leather chairs in the center of the room. The unwritten, occasionally idiotic Dom rules said he should set her on the floor between his feet to reinforce her submission. With a shrug he pleased himself and adjusted her on his lap as comfortably as possible, considering her soft ass rested on his rigid cock.

Her damp skin held the light scents of an almond lotion and lingering cinnamon. Combined with the fragrance of her arousal, it made her smell like a sexual pastry.

No fucking the dessert, Leduc.

Instead he took her lips again, hard and rough, and felt her body sink further into submission.

She was quite a puzzle—wanting to submit yet fighting it.

An experienced Dom often played with submissives whose styles clashed with his. Xavier preferred being on the same wavelength, riding the high of anticipating a submissive’s responses, knowing exactly what to give her to elicit the reactions he wanted.

But this little fluff was a contradiction. Working with her was like searching for a favorite radio station in the mountains. The music between them was perfect…when he managed to get her tuned in.

He hadn’t had this much fun in a very long time. Wasn’t it a shame he couldn’t take her home and keep her?