Chapter 8

She winced when Tristan squeezed her waist involuntarily. He was horrified by what she had just told him. Sophia’s mother had been a terrible mother, but even she would not have sold her children for d***s.

“My lord,” she said, pushing at his arm.

He relaxed his grip. “How long were you at the slave house?”

She mulled it over for a few minutes. “I’m not entirely sure. I would think at least ten or eleven months. I was sold once but returned back to the slave house the next day.”

“Why?”

She appeared to be choosing her words carefully. “Most of the men that go there are looking for a companion or a housekeeper. The ones who are looking for a housekeeper would sooner scrub their own toilets then bring a Red into their household. Those who are looking for a—a companion, are leery of the stories of men who have tried to take Reds into their beds.”

“What stories are those?”

She gave him a strange look. “Surely you know them, my lord?”

He sho