The Harlot (2 page)

She scrubbed her hands over her face again. Ranald would not be pleased about this. She knew him well enough to guess that he would turn his back on her. He held her earnings, and if she did not return soon, they would be his.

It will not happen,
she vowed. Even if she had to use her magic, she would not let go of her only hope, her dream. It was a long time since she had last used her secret talent, not since Eliza was sick, and that meant Jessie had begun to sleep better. Magic itself was not the enemy. It was the reaction it brought about in those around her, the trail of devastation that followed that she could not stomach. That went back years, too, for she had been shown how dangerous it was to be gifted when she was a bairn. And yet she had felt her magic burgeoning these past few months. It was as if her secret craft yearned to be nurtured and explored. The change was akin to that of a young girl becoming a woman.

Voices from the corridor caught her attention and she moved to her hands and knees, creeping toward the bars. Cautiously, she glanced along the corridor. There was another man with the guard now—a minister, judging from his garb. Jessie sank
back onto her haunches and sighed. No doubt he was here to deliver a lesson in all that was pious and holy, serving it up for the good of her soul. She put her elbows on her knees and rested her chin on her hand. Her beliefs ran in an entirely different direction. Like all those in her mother's line, her soul was attuned to nature, not the kirk.

Once she gathered a few more pennies she would be able to travel north to the Highlands, where her kind was not viewed quite so harshly. There she could let her craft blossom and grow as she longed to. Magic was rising within her, a powerful legacy she could not deny. Each day she had to rebuild the dam that held it back, lest it flood her. In the Highlands, she could live without fear.
Home,
she silently chanted,
home and brethren.
It was her dream.

Her eyes closed. Memories from her upbringing haunted and pained her. A dream it was, a dream that might never be fulfilled if the events of this day were any indication. She would meet the same fate as her mother if she did not escape, and that meant she had to take the risk. She had to use her magic once again.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor.

Once the minister was gone she would decide upon her course of action. Rising to her feet, she stalked into a corner, where she stood with her arms folded across her chest. When the guard rattled his key and shoved it into the lock, she looked at it longingly. She could easily make it drop from his belt as he walked away, but she could not take the risk right at that moment, especially not with two of them watching her.

“Luck is on your side, Jessica Taskill,” the guard said. “The minister has risen from his bed to pray with you awhile.”

Jessie pressed her lips together while she battled the urge to tell them her beliefs did not match theirs. She managed to
resist sparring out of bad humor, because she knew if she kept quiet and acted penitent, he would be gone all the sooner.

The minister stepped into the cell and the guard locked the door behind him, then gestured with the candle he held aloft. “If she gives you any trouble you be sure to call out, Minister. I will hear you.”

Jessie looked at the minister for the first time. He wore a wide-brimmed hat and his head was lowered, which made it difficult to see him. Squinting in the gloom, she ducked a little, trying to catch sight of his face. Then the guard set his candle in a sconce outside the cell. The light filtered in and she was able to properly assess the build of her caller. He was a large man, tall and bulky around the shoulders, unlike any minister she had ever seen. He wore the long somber cassock of the church, true enough, and it was buttoned from collar to hem, but she spied a fine ring snaked around his little finger, and expensive leather boots on his feet—silver-buckled boots.

“Thank you,” the minister replied. “I will say a few prayers with the sorry lass, and I'll call you when I am ready to leave.”

The guard nodded and lumbered off.

The other man kept his head lowered until the sound of the guard's footsteps scuffing along the hallway faded. What little candlelight fell into the cell from the hallway beyond was not aiding Jessie's quest to study his face, and she leaned closer, her curiosity rising by the moment. His jaw was solid, and when he turned his face to listen to the guard's retreat, she saw his mouth. Wide and passionate it was, and scarred from one corner to his cheekbone.

Recognition flared in her. “That guard is a fool,” she whispered. “No minister would wear fancy boots such as those.”

“You have sharp eyes and an astute mind.” The man lifted off his hat, fully revealing his features.

Jessie's interest grew. “I know you. You were at the inn when they came for me.”

“Yes, and I can get you out of here, in exchange for a favor.”

“A rescuer,” Jessie said, with a soft laugh. In truth, she did not need anyone's help, but it suited her well. If he thought he could get her out of here, then there would be no need to use her magic.

He inclined his head. “With a price.”

“Ah, I see.” She would readily offer him her favors in return for such aid. Besides, he was an uncannily attractive man, despite the hard, assessing glint in his eyes and the scars on his face. His body was fit and strong, and he held himself well. He had the look of someone who had traveled abroad, as she often saw when the ships came in and the travelers alighted. The man whose custom she had been fighting for earlier was rich, but this one was also handsome, and looked potent, as if he could give a woman a good seeing-to.

Nevertheless, Jessie considered him cautiously for a moment longer. He had some money on his person, of that she was sure—and she would find out how much soon enough. Why was he doing this? He did not need to be gallant and rescue an accused woman in order to gain her attentions. There were easier ways to procure carnal gratification, especially for a man of his appearance. Why did he want her? Perhaps there was a secret thrill in the act for him, something to do with the nature of their current situation. He had put himself in danger, coming here in such a costume, especially when the bailie might return at any moment to question her.

At that very moment he glanced down the corridor, watchful for the guard's return. Yet he did not seem overly
concerned, and when he looked back at her it was with humor in his expression. Was he a man who liked a challenge? If so, she was the woman to give it to him.

With her hands on her hips, she approached him. In the candlelight his angular features were cast in leaping light and shadows. “I'll pay your price, in exchange for my freedom.”

Before he had a chance to respond, she dropped to her knees and rested her hand over the bulge at his groin. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but paused, his eyebrows lifting as he realized her intention. She couldn't help smiling. His plan must have been to take the tumble after the rescue. That would be safer, but rebellion pumped in her blood. Would he chastise her? Knock her hand away and hush her?

He had not stilled her hand, and his handsome mouth moved in a suggestive smile. She knew the signs well enough, and it appeared this man was not deterred by their surroundings. Anticipation for a taste of him made her blood pump faster. She would pleasure him right here in the tollbooth. Tightening her grip on his bulge, she gazed up at him. “You do not fear discovery?”

“I was aware it was a dangerous undertaking when I came here,” he responded, “although this was not quite what I had in mind for the order of proceedings.”

She'd been right about his intentions. Well, if he liked danger, he would surely like this. Shaking back her hair, she slid her hands beneath his cassock and ran them up the outside of his breeches as high as his belt, weighing his purse briefly in her hand as she did so. It was impressively heavy, even more so than she might have guessed from the quality of his boots.

“You're a wild lass,” he commented.

“That I am.” Again she ran her hand over his groin, her cunny tightening when she found his bulge had grown bigger
and was now hard and ready for her within the confines of his breeches.

“You are large, sire,” she whispered, a teasing note in her voice.

“And I grow larger by the moment under your skilled fingers.” His gaze was on her breasts and his body was taut with lust.

She laughed softly and moved her hands around his thighs, measuring and squeezing them. The muscle was strong. He could easily lift and carry her. Working her way down around his boots, and then back up, she returned to her goal at the front of his breeches. His cock was now long and fully upright beneath the fabric. Between her thighs she grew hot and wet. With a hum of approval, she clasped him firmly. “How satisfying it would be, to mount such a fine weapon.”

He cursed beneath his breath, glanced quickly down the corridor one more time, then his lips tightened as he watched her unbutton his cassock to gain better access.

Jessie noticed then how he towered over her, and how self-assured he was. Virile, wayward and mysterious, he was a tempting man. She wanted to pleasure him. She wanted that and more. When his cock bounced free, she embraced it and found it hot to the touch. Reaching below with her other hand, she cupped his sac. His ballocks responded, lifting. If he were on his back she would happily straddle and ride him. Everything about him made her feel lusty, had her core clasping needily. She wanted to hold fast to the bars of the cell while she begged him to rut her from behind. Her hand slid around the shaft and she measured its girth with an impressed sigh, her cunny damp to the tops of her thighs.

Quick as a flash his hand closed over hers, locking her in place. For a moment she thought he was about to stop her.
Then her heart beat wildly when she caught sight of the dare in his expression.

“They will burn you thrice over, witch-whore,” he commented, “if they see you making lewd with a minister.”

Jessie's breath caught in her throat, her spirit flaring as she met his challenging stare. The sinful glint in his eyes made him look less like a minister than any man she had ever seen.

Her hand tightened on his shaft and she licked her lips. “If I am to burn, I would prefer it be for a good reason.”

AS SOON AS HER PRETTY MOUTH CLOSED OVER
his cock end Gregor knew it would not be enough. He would have to delve between her pale thighs and possess her. As she knelt before him and worked him with gusto, it only made him eager to sample more of her talents. Was that her intention?

If so, he doubted her sanity. They were both in danger of incarceration, with her so flagrantly disregarding his disguise. The fact that the guard was but a few strides away only seemed to make her bolder. It was madness. Raining kisses on his shaft, she clutched his ballocks and sucked his crown into her hot, damp mouth.

His cock reached, and when it did she ran her teeth along its underside, an act that almost undid him there and then. When he cursed beneath his breath she growled in her throat, which vibrated along his length as she did so, adding a new element to the experience. She was an impetuous lass and he knew he should put a stop to it, but her forthright, lusty manner only made his need for release greater.

She glanced up at him and the flickering candlelight caught the desire that burned bright in her eyes. Gregor saw why she had gained such a notorious title—a harlot indeed, for she surely did enjoy her trade. He could no more stop this than he could melt the bars that contained them. It was an unfamiliar experience to have his plans complicated by a woman. Gregor attempted to caution himself. It was his enemy he wanted her to distract, although her tenacity showed she would be good for the task he had in mind.

Even so, the urge to pin and have her grew with each stroke of her tongue along his length. The guard was no threat, for he'd readily believed Gregor's claim to be a visiting minister assisting the local kirk. If they remained quiet, perhaps it would be possible. With his hands on her hair, Gregor clasped her head while she milked him with her mouth. “You know no shame.”

Her eyelids lifted and she pulled free, sighing most contentedly as she did so. “That much is true, but I sense no admonishment in your comment, sire.”

There was humor in her tone. While she spoke she held his straining cock in one hand, and then she dipped her head and ran the tip of her tongue beneath its crown, where the skin was tight, teasing him quite deliberately.

“There was no admonishment, but we must be on our way soon, and quick about it.”

The shadows danced around the small cell as if a draft had blown down the corridor, and he heard the groaning of the drunken sot in the cell beyond. When he concentrated harder he could hear the guard humming to himself as he enjoyed his supper. All these things—and Gregor's impending release—made haste imperative.

Again she licked the underside of his crown. Then the hot, wet clasp of her mouth on his engorged cock forced him back
against the wall. Cursing beneath his breath, he rested his shoulders against the hard surface while the woman kneeling at his feet squeezed and tugged his ballocks with one hand, the other tightening around the base of his rod as she worked it up and down. She was good, too damn good.

Glancing down, Gregor could see she was aroused herself. Her hips rocked from side to side, her body undulating. If he wasn't mistaken, she wanted his length inside her. The thought affected him, harnessing his need. From the depths of her throat, she gave another loud growl of approval as his cock leaped and lengthened.

Pulling free, the woman stared up at him. Her strange blue eyes glittered in the candlelight as she teased him with her fingers. “You would have me rush the task?”

“No.” He snatched at her arm, hauling her to her feet, and quickly turned her around so that she was braced against the wall instead of him. “But I must take charge of this situation, lest you bring the guard here with your sighing and exultations.” That would happen soon enough, but he had to be ready to break them free, not midvault, with his breeches at his knees.

Delighted laughter escaped her mouth.

Had she no sense of fear? Silencing her with his lips seemed the only viable option, and he could do that while running her through with his length. He hauled her skirts up and thrust his hands beneath her shapely bottom, lifting her from her feet. She gasped, then gave an approving murmur and wrapped her legs around his hips, inviting him in.

“You are a noisy wench.”

“What of it? Are you one of those men who despise women who find pleasure in the act?”

“Quite the contrary.” It took immense control to answer her levelly. At the base of his spine a deep, unremitting throbbing
had taken hold of him, signaling the urgent need for release. If the guard came now, they would both be damned.

“Good.” She flashed those strange eyes at him and then peeled down the rim of her stays, lifting her breasts free of their confinement in order to toy with her nipples. Between thumb and forefinger she arrested the hard nubs and tugged, hard. She let out a garbled moan as she did so.

Gregor pursed his lips. The way she acted made him want to graze those tender nipples with his teeth, in order to hear her cry out more loudly—an act that would be suicidal under the circumstances. She was taunting him with her bawdy behavior, the vixen. This was something he would have to keep in mind in the days ahead. “You are trouble, my dear, of that I am now sure.”

She laughed softly, and yet there was both hunger and longing in her expression as she met his gaze. The practiced glance of a clever whore, to be sure, but his body answered nonetheless, his cock eager to be buried inside her. He bent his knees, and when his erection slid against the folds of her damp puss, she shuddered visibly.

“Ah, yes, this is what you need. This is why you know no fear.”

“Perhaps,” she responded, and her eyes narrowed to dark slits as she regarded him. A chuckle rose in her, and he stifled it with a kiss. His tongue thrust into her mouth, as he would soon thrust into her body.

With her arms around his neck she pulled free of his kiss and leaned her shoulders against the wall. Her loosened breasts swayed in front of his eyes as she arched her back and manipulated her hips so that his cock slid readily inside her as soon as he found her hot, slippery hole.

Gregor shifted his weight, eager to find his rhythm. Forcing himself deeper, he reveled in the tight clutch and give of
her core. She was so eager, and he was equally keen to satisfy the lust in them both. The intense connection captured him, making his thoughts like mud. At the back of his mind, he wondered if he'd taken leave of his senses.

She whispered encouragement beneath her breath and then stifled a cry by pushing her hand against her mouth when he drove deeper, shoving her up against the wall as he did so.

To see her that way gave him great pleasure. He placed his feet wider, gaining leverage and using it. Her sleek, hot cunt grasped at his distended cock eagerly with each thrust, and he cursed beneath his breath, ruing the inconvenience of their current whereabouts.

Then she wrapped her hands around his neck, whispering against his ear, forcing his release much more urgently. “Harder, sire.”

Gregor had to close his eyes and gather himself a moment. His ballocks ached, the need to find release becoming all-consuming. The rocking of her lower body and the suck and pull of her damp flesh on his shaft soon urged him on. “I would not allow you to rush me so, if we were under different circumstances.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “A man who knows his own prowess… I am most impressed.”

That comment led him to shove her more firmly against the wall. He was so bound up in the need to thrust and drive that he was in danger of forgetting the perilous nature of their situation. Then he fixed her and ground deep, and she gave a barely stifled moan. As swiftly as he could, he covered her mouth with his, again muffling her.

“Are you always this noisy,” he asked when he pulled back for breath, “or are you trying to lure the guard back here?”

She bit her lip and looked at him from under her lashes. “Forgive me, sire, I am finding your assault most pleasurable.”

With that she shoved one hand between them, to the place where he was buried to the hilt in the tight fist of her puss. She enclosed the base of his cock with her fingers, squeezing him hard there while she paddled her folds with the flat of her hand.

Thrusting vigorously inside the moist fist of her cunt, he cursed under his breath. Her hand there was most advantageous, and his ballocks were high and primed to off-load their burden. Vaguely, it occurred to him that he would be unable to stop now. Even the threat of the guard's appearance was nothing compared to the desperate need for the pair of them to come off.

Meanwhile, her mouth opened and her eyes closed. Never before had he seen a woman so eager and ready for pleasure. However, she was about to cry out again—he knew it. Gregor closed his mouth over hers yet again, silencing her. Her puss quivered around his length, and he barely pulled free in time to spill his load elsewhere. How he wished he had been inside her for her completion. As his cock jerked and spent itself, her hands closed tighter around its head and her lips moved under his, parting. When her tongue stroked his, he felt as if he had captured her cry in his own mouth, the sensuous kiss an indication of her pleasure. Unexpectedly, the kiss arrested him, and he lingered a moment, enjoying the soft pull of her lips and the inquisitive stroke of her tongue for as long as he dared risk it, before pulling back.

Sated, she looked as supine and regal as a contented cat. She arched her neck in the wake of her release, as if savoring every morsel of pleasure. Fascinated, he observed her as her breasts rose and fell with her labored breathing. A most sensuous woman indeed, he decided.

When she opened her eyes she gave a soft growl and looked at him from under her lashes, as if her eyelids were heavy with
pleasure. “You are a fine lover, sire. I trust you found I warrant the risk of breaking me out of here?”

Her voice was softened by what had passed between them, and he knew that if they were elsewhere he would soon be hard again and ready for another tryst.

Setting her on her feet, he stepped back and secured his breeches, while taking a quick look down the corridor to assure himself that the jailor had not been roused from his supper. Luck was on their side, for he was still occupied with picking bones.

Once Gregor had buttoned up the cassock, he responded, “Well worth the risk. Now step behind me and be ready to run when the moment comes.”

He watched as she pulled her clothing into place, arranging her torn bodice. She folded her hands piously across the front of her skirts and adopted a chaste look, as if he truly had influenced her in a much more holy manner.

For a brief moment, he shook his head and wondered what madness had led him to this. Then he reminded himself of his purpose. She had proved her worth and would be good bait for his enemy's downfall. Gregor cleared his throat and nodded at her, snatching up his hat from where it had fallen to the floor. With another quick glance through the bars at the guard, he called out and then gestured to indicate he was done. “Guard, I am ready to leave.”

The jailor approached, glanced in at Jessie and, seeing her quiet and apparently contrite, lifted the key at his belt and opened the cell door.

Gregor stepped out, gripped the door in one hand and gave the guard a swift thump in the stomach with the other. When the man bent forward to clutch at his belly, Gregor knocked him backward, until he teetered and collapsed in a heap in the corridor. Gregor stooped to check that he would stay down
for at least a few moments. The fellow was stunned, but would come to quickly enough.

“Apologies in advance for the ache in the head,” Gregor murmured, then waved at the woman to follow him.

They weaved their way down the corridors and out into the night at the back of the tollbooth. The moon was high in the sky, a blessing. At the end of the alley, where it opened out into the cobbled lane, he heard voices and paused, his arm out to stop the woman. Easing them both back into the shadows, he put his finger to her lips.

Two figures walked past, holding one another up as they went. Once they had passed and the lane was quiet, he removed his finger from her mouth and nodded.

She dusted down her clothing. “Thank you for your help, sire. I'll be on my way now.”

Gregor frowned and grasped her firmly by the jaw. “You will not. You agreed to undertake a task in return for your freedom.”

“And I fulfilled the task.” She jerked her head free.

She seemed to be under the impression that he had put his life at risk for one of her carnal favors. Gregor gave a wry laugh and shook his head in disbelief. “That was not the task I had in mind, my dear. That was something you brought about.”

She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Whatever do you mean, that was not the task you had in mind?”

Gregor felt the urge to shake her, but quelled it when he saw another figure moving down the street beyond. Hauling her into the shadows once more, he held her upper arms. “Be silent now, or someone will hear and you will find yourself back in that cell quicker than you can flash your eyes at the next passerby. The guard will awaken and raise the alarm soon enough. We must be on our way, and quick about it.”

She wriggled like an eel, growled at him and gave him a
nasty jab in the shins with her foot. He pressed his lips together and tightened his grasp, drawing her to him so that her feet all but left the ground.

Alarm flitted through her eyes, and then they narrowed while she lashed out at him, her fists pummeling his sides. “You cannot keep me.”

The woman could fight, and her punches made Gregor's blood pump. Even though she was pitted against him, she seemed wanton in her every act, moving in his grasp like a lush, unruly siren.

“Think on it,” he growled. “Do you want to hang?”

“Let me go.” There was a distinct warning note in her low tone as she issued the instruction, and her eyes glittered strangely in the moonlight.