In The Beginning by Gail Daley (top 100 books of all time checklist .TXT) 📕

Franks studied Iris thoughtfully. So that was the second St. Vyr daughter, he thought in surprise. Iris' shyness had previously kept her from appearing in public without the support of her sisters, so this was the first time Franks had noticed how pretty she was.

The skits were funny and the singing good. During an interval when Carlos went to get them two glasses of wine, Franks sat down at her table uninvited.

Taken aback, she told him. "I’m sorry, but that seat is taken."

He smiled at her. "Such a lovely lady as yourself should never be left alone."

Her eyebrows rose. "I’m not alone, and I don’t believe I know you. So, if you don’t mind—"

"Allow me to introduce myself," he said with a flourish. "Mike Franks, at your service, lovely lady."

Despite herself, Iris was amused. "How kind of you. All the same, I assure you I am in no need of help. Any services I need, I am sure my fiancé can provide. And that seat is taken."

"Yes, it is," Carlos growled, stepping between her chair and the one Franks had taken as he set the two glasses of wine down on the table.

Franks grinned up at him before rising with a great show of reluctance. "Oh, it’s yourself, is it Madonna? I’ve seen you around. Don’t you run the Lucky Strike for this lovely lady’s father? How clever of you to become so well acquainted with your boss’s daughter."

She saw Carlos’s back stiffen and recognized the signs. Several times when they had been children, she had seen his hot temper in action. Those encounters had usually ended with Carlos on top of the other boy beating the tar out of him. With a lively dread of being thrust into a public brawl, Iris intervened. "Oh, Carlos and I have known each other since we were children, Mr. Franks. Please excuse us now though; the music for the next act is starting."

Iris tugged on Carlos’s sleeve. He resisted, but two of the black clad servers had come up. "I’m afraid we need to ask you to sit down, sir. You are blocking the view of the stage," one of them said, politely stepping between him and Franks, while the other server said much the same thing to Franks.

Franks hesitated but decided he if he persisted it would ruin the impression he was trying to make on Iris, and he walked away. Carlos sat back down.

"How did you meet Franks?" he demanded sharply.

The tone was so at variance with the one he usually used with her that Iris looked at him in astonishment. As much as she disliked making a spectacle of herself in public, she wasn't meek with friends or family. "He came up and introduced himself," she said, amused. "I assure you he isn’t the first man to do so. It’s nothing."

His mouth tightened, but the couple at the next table made shushing noises at them. He would take it up with her later, he assured himself. For the rest of the evening he continued to brood about the fact that his fiancée seemed to attract men like flies to a honey pot. He had always thought Iris was a pretty girl, but it had dawned on him when he had seen Franks flirting with her that she was beautiful enough for him to have to compete with other men for her affections.

Iris had dismissed the encounter with Franks. As she had told Carlos, Franks hadn’t been the first man to flirt with her. If the man kept his attentions polite, the attempts usually just amused her, and Gran had made sure all her granddaughters knew how to deal with less polite attempts to court them.

She had never associated Carlos with that crude behavior, so when they came upstairs, she startled to find herself pinned against the room door and thoroughly kissed. Carlos held her head still with one hand and his mouth crushed hers, demanding a response, forcing her lips apart so he could thrust his tongue inside. His other hand gripped her buttock pulling her against the hard bulge of his arousal. Against her back she could feel the carved panel design on the door through her dress.

Iris had bred her goats for years; she knew what was pushing against her lower body. What she wasn’t prepared for was her own answering excitement and need. She was conscious of an aching, tickling sensation between her thighs. Hardly aware of her own actions, her body softened against his. She freed her hands to slide them up around his neck. Carlos was beyond caring that her grandmother was asleep on the other side of the door, or that they were still in a public hallway. He was conscious only of his need to assert his claim on Iris and have her accept it. He might have taken her in a scrambling tumble against the door if a raucous laugh from down the hall hadn’t jerked him back to his senses. Abruptly, he pushed away from her and turned the key in the door. When it opened, he shoved her inside and pulled it closed.

When Carlos thrust her into the darkened sitting room, Iris stumbled over a footstool. She caught herself from falling by grabbing the back of a chair that scraped noisily as it moved several inches on the polished wood floor. Vaguely, as the door closed behind her, she heard the key Carlos had used to open the door hit the floor near her foot.

She stood unsteadily for a moment, her heart still pounding, her breath coming out in gasps, before walking on trembling legs toward her own room. Gran had left one of the gas lamps turned on low for her. Turning it up, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and gulped. Her hair was coming down; one sleeve of her dress had been torn, and her breast was almost hanging out. Her lips were swollen from being kissed and there was an unsatisfied ache in