Bess went red at the demand to titter. Here was an adventure and she without the strength to fall into it so wantonly. It was one thing, yes – horrific in its own right, to lay beside a man, unknown and on his word only that she'd remain untouched, but quite another to act vapid and - 

Oh! Fingers dug into her ribs, merciless and presumptuous. Her initial squeal was one of dismay and alarm. Despite the hushed tones of men nearby, Bess was not about to allow the man such permissions upon her person. She was, despite being little more than a drudge on a good day, a very good girl and she – she! 

The laughter immediately following, she squirmed away from him, or rather she tried to. He had had sisters, no doubt, or was a bully of some boy's school, because her laugh burst from her even as she tried to stifle it. It was far from a giggle, but was a full sound, a young girl caught by surprise and without the fan nor the social graces that came with to know how to simper and make that high, feminine sound. 

Instead, Bess fought him as best she could. He was forced to hold her down and she, red cheeked and desperate, beat on his shoulder with a weakened fist as he took advantage. Her reaction was less against the being so near and a great deal more the attempt to escape the barrage.

What the pursuers thought wasn't easily heard over the peals of laughter, no doubt it was obvious to all that someone thought herself alone with her lover. The laughter covered after the first few bursts, Bess slapping a hand over her mouth and trying to quiet herself which in turn gave the clandestine giggles he'd asked for – though she'd failed miserably to begin with. But by then, the men had either crept close enough to spy, or were gone another direction. 

“You... “ she gasped aloud as she squirmed under him and hit him once more, the tickling having torn any force from her, so that the blow was ineffectual, lost to the gasps and the swallowed laughter. He was far too adept and she, long from having played with father or mother, had not been subjected to such treatment in years and therefore, was left weak from it. 

Gone was the worry of being at the mercy of the man. Instead, she was overcome with the desire to be free of those fingers. They played against her ribs and she could not escape them. Breathless, she would have protested, without care of who was listening, but the very act kept her helpless against him as she tried to find his hands and stop them, the soft laughter bursting from behind a bit lip.