The Harlot (13 page)

IT HAD NOT TAKEN LONG FOR THE MISCHIEF
to resurface in Miss Jessie. Gregor looked at her with amused suspicion. “What were you doing, planning your escape?”

He was quite certain she would have been gone by now, if that was her intention. Gregor warned himself against being curious about her deeper motives and emotions. He had spent the whole afternoon reminding himself that she was a simple whore. The fact that he became aroused by her was merely incidental. He could not afford to let his sympathy for her situation to grow. He had enough problems to deal with.

“No, I…” Her voice drifted off and she looked over at the packages he'd put on the table rather forlornly.

Did she think he was going to punish her by depriving her of the clothing?

“I was just wondering how many other guests lodged here. I hear voices when you are gone.”

“You have uncannily good hearing.” Why did he get the feeling he was missing some important point of fact here? “Were you intending to leave?”

She shook her head vehemently. “Oh, no. I am dedicated to the task.”

Gregor accepted that much. She had also confessed her boredom, the evening before. He realized he must hasten the lesson and move on to the task in order to keep her occupied. “I need your dedication, Jessie. We are almost ready, and we will proceed with haste.”

He gestured at the table. “You will find two dresses that the seamstress assured me would be suitable for a serving woman of good standing. Please, be certain that they are a good fit and begin wearing them. You must be suitably humble when you arrive on the doorstep.”

Jessie nodded and then proceeded to unwrap the packages with curiosity.

Gregor settled in a chair to observe while she examined the items with murmurs of appreciation, her eyes growing round in the most delightful way. She commented on the quality of wool that had been used for the dresses, and the softness to the touch, things he had not even noticed. After the day before, he knew how much new clothes meant, and he'd added a trinket or two on the spur of the moment, items that were not entirely necessary.

The sheer delight in her eyes when she shook out the blue evening gown made him smile. It was an indulgence, but well worth it. Besides, he wanted to see her in it.

“This is a mistake. You said you had purchased two dresses for me. This one is for someone else?” Her expression darkened as she questioned him.

Was that jealousy he saw? She had questioned him about women the night before. “I said two dresses suitable for a serving girl. The third is for the Harlot of Dundee to wear for her current provider, here and now.”

Her eyes flickered with a myriad of expressions, emotions
that he could not accurately gauge. For a moment he thought she was unhappy with the purchase, then she sighed and held the dress up against herself, fingering the silk in awe. “'Tis too good for the likes of me.”

Something about the way she handled the fabric made his cock harden. “It will not be too good later, when it is pushed up around your hips so that I may access your sweet puss.”

He hadn't meant to say that aloud, and he hadn't meant to indulge his desire for her again. But there it was. Living in such close quarters, it was inevitable. She was a lusty wench with a fine appreciation of a good tumble.

“Mister Ramsay,” she admonished playfully. But her eyes darkened and the corners of her mouth remained lifted. He wondered what went on in her mind at such times. If he had to put a wager on it, he would be unsure where his money was safest. With a rueful smile, he acknowledged that was part of the appeal.

“Look in the pocket,” he suggested.

She pulled out the pretty trinket he had bought, a necklace. Nothing fancy, but it was set with a couple of blue stones that were of a similar color to the dress. Ideally, he would have had a craftsman work some of the exotic stones he had, but he had decided they might bring her unwelcome attention in the future.

Again there was much cooing and appreciation.

“You will find the appropriate undergarments to wear with the gown in my bundle. The seamstress and her assistant assured me that it was all in order and you would be able to adjust the items to fit.”

Jessie darted to the table and untied the sack he had left there. A moment later she had retrieved a petticoat decorated with lace and a boned corset, which she examined at length.

“I've only ever had linen stays.” She looked at him aghast. “How will I manage? Will you assist?”

Gregor's experience was limited to removing such items. Besides, he knew that if he got his hands on her it might take all evening, for he would be easily distracted by her soft skin and the pleasure in her expression.

“I will call for the serving girl,” he suggested, and went to the landing.

When Morag arrived the two women moved into his bedchamber, but left the door ajar. There was much whispering and laughter, which sounded good to his ears. It was not something he was used to hearing. He'd been aware that the two chattered when Morag came with food or to exchange the pails and washbowls. That was why he'd thought it was she who freed Jessie when he was away.

After a while he shifted his chair into the bedchamber so that he could watch them. It was almost sunset. The remaining light from the window beyond the women lit Jessie's outline as she arched most provocatively to allow Morag to tighten the corset, reminding him of a rather immoral illustration of a woman at her toilette that he had once seen and enjoyed. Except that this was real, and for his eyes alone.

A deep sense of pleasure kindled in him as he observed the feminine ritual. A sense of entitlement, too, and meshed with that was the knowledge that he had brought this about.

He could almost picture Jessie the mistress of her own home—a house not too grand, but with a fair patch of land, enough to provide security. A house he should have had by now, had it not been for that contemptible charlatan, Ivor Wallace—a man who made money out of others and affected grand airs. With effort Gregor excluded Wallace from the pleasant picture he was currently enjoying.

The corset was much admired by both women. Had Jessie
ever had such a gift before? He doubted it, although she was a strange, mysterious woman. The more he thought he understood her…well, the more she took him by surprise.

The two of them strained and chuckled, intent on adjusting the luxurious undergarment. Every penny had been well spent, Gregor mused, as he watched Jessie's breasts surge up from the edge of the corset as it tightened. The dip between her breasts was shadowed and enticing, the two hillocks of flesh swelling in such a way that his hands itched to rove over them. His cock was hardening, but the sight alone was to be savored, and he aimed to temper his reaction, to string out each morsel of pleasure the situation might offer.

“Is it a pleasing sight, Gregor?” Jessie called out at that moment, as if she could tell where his thoughts had wandered.

“It is indeed most attractive.” Gregor granted her a nod and a smile. He did not want her to fix on impressing him—she was devious enough in that respect already, and needed no further encouragement—but he could not deny her the compliment when she looked so radiant.

Morag had taken the blue dress and was lifting it over Jessie's head. When it fell into place, the maid moved around her, pulling it quickly into place. When the fastenings were done and Morag was applying her final tweaks to the delicate lace along the bosom, Jessie turned to face his way. Looking at him from beneath lowered eyelashes, she ran her hand along Morag's waist, stroking the other woman while Morag fussed over the neckline of the gown.

Gregor's curiosity sharpened. He'd presumed the dress would absorb her complete attention for some time, but she was definitely taunting him. Had she been watching him all along? He lifted one eyebrow, quizzing her.

She responded immediately, acknowledging their silent
connection. A mischievous smile appeared, and then she took action. She wandered over to him as if parading the dress. When she got close, she dipped down and whispered, “You said you believed my powers of seduction were good this morning.”

“Indeed.”

“May I entertain you some more…in that respect?”

Curious as to her meaning, he nodded.

She paraded back to Morag, her hands on her hips as she surveyed the way the dress swung as she walked.

“It is beautiful, Miss Jessie,” Morag said.

“It is.” Arresting the buxom servant's face in her hands, she kissed her cheek. “Look, Morag, Mister Ramsay is enjoying the sight of us together.”

Lord, but she is a vixen.

Nodding in his direction, she drew the other woman's attention to him. Morag gave a gruff chortle and her cheeks colored. She did not, however, blink or look away coyly, which fascinated him, for he'd assumed her a shy, pragmatic sort.

“In fact,” Jessie added, in a seductive tone, “I am sure he would offer you a few coins to watch us together.” Her glance sidled over to meet his, and there was a challenge in her eyes.

Now that was an interesting proposal, but once again she was taking liberties. Gregor's brows lifted. He should put her back in her place. However, his curiosity about her intentions and the thought of seeing the two of them “entertain him” were most enticing. He was already growing hard, and now his cock was straining the cloth of his breeches.

He wondered briefly if she was doing this because of what had passed between them the night before. Was she trying to impress him with her own abilities?

Aside from his state of arousal, the proposal intrigued him.
How skilled was Jessie? He already knew how she could affect him, but if she was to infiltrate Ivor Wallace's manor house, it would be good to know she could charm anyone who might stand in her way. That seemed justification enough to let the two of them cavort.

“Together?” Morag quizzed. “Whatever do you mean, Miss Jessie?”

“Well now,” she responded, her fingers teasing the other woman's hair, as if they were discussing nothing more than the latest fashion for one's tresses, “would you let me embrace you?”

How confident she was, Gregor noticed. The gown, perhaps.

Morag thought for a moment, her expression stoic. “I suppose so.”

Jessie hummed aloud as if pleased, and stroked her hands around the outside of Morag's ample breasts. “And would you let me undress you?”

The maid didn't respond, but she had not run from the room in horror. In fact, her cheeks were rosier than before, and her eyes wide and fixed, as if she was enjoying Jessie's caresses immensely.

“Undressed?” she exclaimed as Jessie stroked her. “T'would be for him, Mister Ramsay, to look at me?”

“Aye.”

Reaching into his pocket, Gregor pulled out some coins and rolled them in his palm, as if ready to count them. Morag's eyes widened with interest, and her body leaned instinctively into Jessie's touch.

“I suppose I might.”

Jessie glanced his way and nodded at him. “I'm sure Mister Ramsay would also like to see me stroke your cunny while I kiss your breasts.”

Gregor inhaled sharply. He waited for Morag's reaction. She was eyeing the coins in his hand and had wrapped her arms around Jessie—who was slighter than herself—as if holding her close for comfort.

Amused and fascinated at the turn of events, Gregor resisted a smile and counted out five coins. He stacked them on the edge of the table.

Both women craned their necks to count them.

He made a second pile, of equal height.

Jessie's eyes lit up. “Now that looks fair.”

Morag nodded, and Jessie took the servant's hand and led her to the bed. As she walked, Jessie rested her free hand on her hip and glanced back at him. Her black hair tumbled over her shoulder and her eyes glowed beguilingly. In that moment Gregor knew he should never have doubted her ability to seduce anyone. She could win over the whole wide world, he was convinced. She was controlling the lassie easily, seductive yet subtle about it. Had she been having a jest at his expense, allowing him to tutor her in the manner of being coy? He shook off the notion. No, her more circumspect approach was the result of their time together. That she could be brazen was no surprise.

Jessie patted the bed. Morag sat down and then reclined on it. Standing beside the bed in such a way as to give him a clear view of everything, Jessie ran her fingers down Morag's neck and across the tops of her breasts, teasing her.

Morag chuckled.

She unlaced the serving girl's bodice and lifted her ample breasts free from her stays and shift. With a soft, seductive hum in her throat Jessie examined the bared globes, squeezing the soft flesh in her hands until Morag's nipples stuck out in hard nubs and she panted audibly.

When Jessie tugged on the nubs, Morag's feet moved
restlessly against the mattress. “Oh, my, that does feel good.”

“You like that?” She tugged again.

Morag nodded frantically. There was no doubting she was aroused.

Gregor shifted in his seat.

Jessie ducked down and sucked on one nipple, exposing her teeth as she did so. Gregor was riveted. He watched her run the sensitive nub against her teeth, and found he wanted to try that trick on her.

Morag cried out. She had pushed her head into the bolster, and her fingers gripped the blanket beneath her, clutching and releasing in time with Jessie's actions. “Lord. My paps.”

She wriggled and wriggled and her skirt rode up. Then she stilled and gasped loudly, her body shuddering.

Jessie straightened, a proud smile on her face. Without any further ado, she tugged off her victim's hide shoes and then pulled her skirts and petticoats as far as her waist, tucking them tightly there so as to leave her lower body exposed.

Morag had on odd woolen stockings, and one had a rather large hole over the knee. Her legs were as sturdily built as the rest of her, and they rolled apart readily when Jessie walked her fingers up from ankle to thigh, once again humming under breath as she did so.