Dorothy rounded the table and knelt beside Devon, wrapping her arms around Devon’s trembling body. “That was every bit as much rape as what was done to me. Instead of holding you down they altered your will with chemicals. They took control of your body and forced you to feel what they wanted you to feel. This was not your fault. None of it was your fault.”
It only took a few minutes for Devon to cry herself out. She’d shed so many tears in the past twenty-four hours she was amazed she had any left. She eased back from Dorothy and forced herself to smile. “I keep telling myself that, but I’m not sure how to start believing it.”
“If you were covered in bruises no one would doubt that it hadn’t been your fault. But they used drugs to alter your needs and paralyze your will, so you feel responsible. Did you willingly take the drugs?”
“No.”
“Did you ask the guards to touch you?”
Devon shook her head, but Dorothy arched her brows, obviously not satisfied with a nonverbal response. “No. They came into my cell uninvited and took advantage of my reaction to the injections.”
“Exactly right. Now say it like you mean it.”
“It wasn’t my fault. No honorable person would have done what those guards did.”
“Good girl.” Dorothy pushed back to her feet and returned to her chair. “Now keep reminding yourself until all the guilt is gone.”
Cold eggs had never tasted so good. Devon felt empty, but in a good way. She was no longer encumbered by unwanted feelings. She blew out a shaky breath and realized Dorothy hadn’t finished her story. Ian hadn’t entered the scene, so there had to be more to tell. “I don’t mean to sound crass, but if Dieter murdered Albert, why did he let you live?”
“Someone had to sign over the deed. When they’d finished with me, they slit Albert’s throat. Then they told me I had until sundown the following day to make the transfer legal and get out. Ian found me later that night. He buried Albert and took me to safety. Without Albert by my side, I didn’t care what happened to the place. I didn’t care about much of anything for a very long time.”
Only one detail remained and Devon couldn’t bring herself to ask.
“I lost the baby,” Dorothy told her. “But I had other children with men almost as wonderful as Albert. The rest of my life has been happy thanks to Ian. If he hadn’t sensed my grief and cared enough to respond, I would most likely be dead.”
“He sensed your grief?” The implication sent a shiver down Devon’s spine. “Ian’s empathic?”
“Very.” Dorothy munched on a piece of bacon and offered no further explanation.
“How long did it take you to get over the pain?”
“Honestly, I still have days when I feel like a victim. I acknowledge the emotions as real and valid without allowing them to control me.”
That all sounded well and good, but Devon was still at the mercy of her emotions. “How did you… I’m not sure I’m that strong.”
“You are easily as strong as me. The first step toward recovery is to regain control over your life. That’s what you’ve lost, you know. You lost control over your environment. Then you lost control over your body, your sensations and sexuality. The only way to break through the pain and start healing is to reclaim them on your own terms.”
That made sense. Devon just wasn’t sure how to accomplish what Dorothy was suggesting.
* * * * *
Ian hesitated on the front porch. He’d been gone at least an hour, yet he wanted to make sure Devon had plenty of time to confide in Dorothy. Dorothy was easy to talk to and her past would give them a common ground. Still, he needed to be with Devon, to protect her and provide for her. The instinctual drive was growing stronger with each passing hour. He also ached to claim her, but that had to wait until she’d dealt with some of these feelings.
The tantalizing scent of bacon drew him onward, so he knocked on the door before he pushed it open.
“You own the place, you overgrown bird.” Dorothy laughed. “You don’t need to knock.”
“I didn’t want to interrupt.” His gaze immediately sought out Devon. She was dressed in jeans and a dark-green blouse that accented the color of her eyes. “Smells awfully good in here. Did you save me anything?”
“Munch on the last few pieces of bacon and I’ll scramble you some eggs.”
“Would you like coffee? I figured out your infernal machine.” Devon emphasized the word infernal and Dorothy laughed.
“Sounds great.” He pulled out the chair next to Devon’s and watched the women work. They seemed to be getting along well and Devon appeared comfortable, more relaxed than she’d been since he found her. Good. That was what he’d been hoping for when he called and asked for Dorothy’s help. She placed a plate of steaming eggs on the table in front of him and handed him a fork. Devon followed with a mug of steaming coffee. “I could get used to this sort of service.”