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fabric on top of my blouse. When I went back to where I had been standing, my first instinct was to slump forward in shame, but I didn’t. I straightened my shoulders and even bowed my back a little, stretching my sides. My breasts stood out proud from my chest, high and rounded, the rosy buds so painful I wanted to reach for them, soothe the ache, and it was only willpower that kept my hands modestly behind my back.
    The mood had changed. The fire seemed warmer. The Laird stood. Byron moved forward, and the two men studied my breasts as if they had never seen breasts before. I really wasn’t sure why men had this obsession.
    â€˜Now, lassie, doesn’t that feel better?’ the Laird asked. His tone was soft, rhythmic, the voice of someone used to being obeyed.
    I don’t know why I nodded my head but I did, and he appeared so pleased I thought I’d scored a valuable point. I hated being exposed like this, my breasts being scrutinised, but the absurdity of the situation, even the faint awe in the faces of the two men, calmed my nerves and made me feel vaguely superior. Binky was sitting on the edge of the chair, staring at me intensely. The Laird observed her gaze, and when he turned to her it was obvious what was going to happen next.
    â€˜Now, lassie,’ he said. ‘What are you hiding down that wee shirt of yours? You havenae been swiping my antique snuff boxes while I wasnae looking?’
    She shook her head.
    â€˜Then let’s not delay more than’s necessary. Off it comes, girl. On your feet.’
    Her cheeks were flushed. Her flat tummy was going in and out as she stood, her breasts throbbing. It wasodd but, like the Laird, like Byron, I was now waiting in the same salacious way to see her strip down to her underwear. She shrugged, trying to look blasé, and, as I’d always been good at reading my sister, I had the impression that she was competing with me, that she didn’t want to be outdone in any way.
    She stretched her arms to pull the T-shirt over her head. She shook her blonde hair free and, as she placed the shirt by the fire, the Laird raised his bushy eyebrows, nodding just slightly. There was no escaping his meaning.
    Binky lingered for a moment, slipped the bra straps from her shoulders and lowered the strips of material over her elbows. She turned, not really meaning to wiggle, and her breasts quivered seductively as she unhooked the clasp. Her heart, I knew, was pounding, and it made her white breasts tremble all the more.
    She dropped the bra on the pile and stood at my side, fragile and defenceless wearing nothing but little knickers, the few wisps of hair escaping from around the elastic all the more endearing. The Laird approached and stood towering over us, legs apart, hands on hips, his eyes flicking between our breasts.
    â€˜Now, isn’t that better, girls?’ he said, but he didn’t expect an answer. ‘What do you think, Byron, have you ever seen finer titties? It must be something in the water they’ve got doon there in London.’
    Byron stood at his master’s side, gazing at our breasts in the same studious manner. The room was hot, the fire roaring. I was perspiring. I could smell fear and anticipation on my skin. I had no idea what this big man was going to do to us and I realised at that moment he really could do anything he wanted. No one knew where we were. We were lost on a dark night and my breasts tingled, my nipples pointing athim like two accusing fingers. I looked up into his eyes and he smiled as he scratched the thick red hair on his cheek.
    â€˜Look, now, mon, we have a dark one and a light one.’ He leaned back and shook his head. ‘Same height, too.’
    â€˜That’s useful,’ said Byron, nodding with approval as he glanced up at the beams on the ceiling.
    Later I would know what they were talking about. The damp on my back formed a bead of sweat that ran down my spine. The fire