The Harlot (23 page)

Meanwhile, she could not afford to be soft in the head.

Or the heart.

“AH, JESSIE.” MASTER WALLACE ROSE TO HIS FEET
when she entered his parlor the following morning.

Jessie stifled her urge to sigh loudly or stick her tongue out at the master of the house. She had spent a restless night brooding over the contradictions she was currently facing. Gregor wanted her to leave soon, and she wanted that, too, but if she did they would soon say goodbye and part. Yet neither did she want to be here where threats of danger surrounded her and using magic could result in her being condemned once again. The thing that made her strong enough to press on was the sure knowledge that she could influence the master's list and that could benefit Gregor.

Wallace had a lecherous grin on his face and he was headed her way. The eyeful he had gained the day before had obviously whetted his appetite.

She dropped a curtsy. “Good morning, Master Wallace.”

She hurried to the fireplace, where she knelt down and began to sweep out the ashes. Master Wallace was at her side within moments, one elbow resting on the stone mantel. His
feet were widely planted, the buckled shoes close to her where she knelt on the floor. If she glanced up at him, she would get an eyeful of his breeches, which was exactly his intention. The man wanted her to peer at the spot where they were straining over his weapon, and she did so, briefly, for the thrill that would afford the old miscreant.

It was lucky, she supposed, that he had not come to her room the night before. Or if he had, it was while she was gone from there. That had worried her awhile, and then she realized he would think she was hiding from him, which would only strengthen her role as a novice when it came to matters of physical congress.

“How old are you, Jessie?”

“I am not certain, sire.” That was the truth. There'd been no one around to tell her such things when she was a child. Deep in her heart, it was one of the facts she was hoping to discover when she went to the Highlands. Maisie would know. Maisie had been brighter than she and had no doubt kept count.

Wallace was talking again, and Jessie urged herself to listen.

“I wager you have many young men sniffing after you.”

Here it comes.

“I do not know what you mean, sire.” She afforded him a glance from under her eyelashes, delivering it with a puzzled expression.

“You are a shapely young woman, sturdy. You bait a man. There will be many who are eager to split your virginal crack with their pricks.”

He was a real charmer.

Jessie rested back on her haunches but kept her eyes downcast. In the moment's hesitation that she thought an inexperienced woman might have after hearing such a blatant and
lewd comment, she congratulated herself for pulling off the role she had been prepared for. “Please, sire,” she bleated, feigning panic, “you make me afraid.”

That he was attempting to shock her was obvious. Much like the valet of the house, he wanted to see fear in her face and he wanted to break her. It was the way of most men, for it was the privilege of their sex. While she would not gratify Cormac, she was obliged to do so in this case in order to remain in the room and influence the list Wallace was preparing.

“I have given you nothing to be afraid of yet.”

Jessie risked another glance up at him. There was an unsavory glint in his eyes, something that revealed his need to possess and destroy. She'd seen the likes of it before, and avoided such men if she had the option. Sometimes she could not, when Ranald was involved, but any whore who wanted to protect herself was wary of such a man.

“Oh, my,” she blurted, and moved as if to wipe up a tear. She did not have long before Mistress Gilroy would appear, and she hadn't yet set her enchantment. If only he had stayed by the desk. It was where she needed to be.

Master Wallace reached over and grasped her hand. Pulling it away from where she dabbed at the corner of her eye, he drew it to the front of his breeches and forced her palm flat against the ridge of his erection there. “Is this what you're afraid of? Too large for you to take, p'raps?”

Jessie had the rebellious urge to declare that she had enjoyed much larger and he should be ashamed of himself for his lack of charm. Instead, she kept her face averted, wriggled and twisted and let out a squeal of horror. She knew what he wanted to hear and—reluctantly—she delivered it. “Oh, Master Wallace, that thing is monstrous large. Please do not make me touch it.”

Much as she expected, the offending item swelled beneath her hand.

“I'll do more than have you touch it, my dear.”

Just then the door sprang open and a cold draft blew through the room. Master Wallace's grip on her hand loosened and she jerked away, snatching up her brush and holding it like a shield. If he tried anything else, he would be covered in ashes from the grate.

It was not, as expected, the housekeeper who entered the room; it was Mistress Wallace. Jessie saw her chance, lifted her pail and wandered away toward the desk.

“What do you want?” Wallace demanded as he turned to his wife.

She looked on her husband with obvious distaste, her mouth pinched, her eyes narrowed. “I have received word that Forbes will be here soon. You must promise me that you will make no final decisions until he arrives.”

Both of them were indifferent to Jessie's presence, so she took the opportunity to cast her eye over the papers on the desk. The map was there, as were several other documents, two of which had wax seals and ribbons on them. Her eyes flashed shut, and she whispered her enchantment beneath her breath. In the same way her mother would lure a buyer's attention to the herbs and berries they had picked in the forest, Jessie drew attention to the land she named.
“Thoir an aire do Strathbahn.”

Once it was done, she busied herself retrieving several documents that had fallen on the floor when the door had opened. Now that the spell was laid, Master Wallace would have an overwhelming need to add Strathbahn to his list, if it wasn't already there. As Jessie tidied, she thought through what would happen next. There was only one way to determine it had been
successful. That night she would need to take the papers to Gregor and have him read them. It would be simple enough. She could collect the documents from this room before she met him, and return them afterward.

She made ready to leave.

Meanwhile, Master Wallace had raised his voice to his wife. “I will do as I please.”

Mistress Wallace had left the door to the hallway open, and Mistress Gilroy appeared there a moment later. Her eyebrows gathered when she heard the discussion, and then she glanced at Jessie and beckoned to her. Jessie lifted her tools and quickly joined her in the hall.

When the housekeeper shut the door behind them, the voices inside the room became even louder and more heated.

Mistress Gilroy pinched Jessie's chin between her thumb and finger and turned her face from side to side, examining her as she did so. “You look flushed, Jessie. Is it the master? Has he hurt you?”

Jessie saw her chance. “Begging your pardon, Mistress Gilroy, but the master…he makes me afraid.” She pouted. “I know my place and I will do my best, but sometimes I would rather flee than have him touch me.”

She was preparing the ground for when she did leave. If the housekeeper assumed it was because the master had frightened her off, so much the better. They would not think otherwise of her sudden departure.

“If you have somewhere else to go,” the woman remarked, “I would not blame you. I wish I had done so, many years ago.”

Somewhere else to go? Jessie considered the comment. The Highlands beckoned, as did the hunt for her sister and brother. Whether that was where her heart wanted to be was another question altogether.

 

That night Jessie made her way down the stairs from the attic rooms with even greater caution, remembering the master's nocturnal wanderings and her encounter with Cormac the night before. Cormac had lurked around that day, watching her while she went about her chores. She was ready to use an enchantment against him, if need be. It was a risky business and she would rather avoid making a show of herself with someone as wily as he.

The steep staircase was treacherous for her, making her dizzy and ill in her belly, so it was with a grateful sigh that she reached the hall. As planned, she crept into the master's parlor and located the papers he had been working on earlier. Cautiously she rolled them up, and with the bundle safely tucked under her shawl, she made her way through the hallway and kitchens, her heart beating ever faster.

If Gregor was out there, it meant he had not been angry or afraid during the course of the day. The night before, he had still wanted her, and there was tentative acceptance in the way he'd spoken to her afterward. Jessie knew how the harsh light of day could redirect a person's thoughts, and when she opened the door and stepped outside, she peered into the gloomy shadows over by the stables, desperate for sight of him. She saw nothing. A feeling of dread came over her. If he was not here to meet her tonight, he had abandoned her because of her craft.

Closing the door as quietly as she could, she made her way quickly alongside the manor house until she reached the corner. Again she craned her neck for sight of him. She was about to dart over to the stables when her skin prickled with awareness, and she found herself grabbed and drawn into the shadows. Her heart thundered when a hand closed over her mouth. For a moment she thought she may have been captured
by Cormac. Then she felt tenderness in the embrace of the man who held her, tenderness and more.

“Ah, but you feel good,” Gregor whispered against her ear, and then ran his lips along her earlobe, kissing its outline and making her dizzy with the rush from his hot breath on her sensitive skin.

The touch of his mouth was so intimate, so direct and so longed for that her whole body shivered with pleasure. Gregor had come despite what had been revealed the night before. First she melted against him, then twisted and turned in his arms to look at him.

He wore dark clothing and his head was bare. In the moonlight, she could see from his smile that he was happy. She clutched his shoulders through his frock coat, assuring herself that it was really him. When their eyes met she felt as if the stars grew brighter and the moon shone for them alone.
He'd come back.

He stared at her for a moment longer, and then he claimed her mouth, kissing her long and hard, and shifting her up against the wall. She responded eagerly, her hands racing over him, her mouth opening under his. The thrust of his tongue against hers made her hips arch and her cunny melt.

“I thought you might not come,” she said when they drew apart.

“You think I scare easily?” He shook his head.

She was pleased, but nevertheless felt uneasy about their current location, so close to the big house. “I hoped that would not be the case,” she whispered.

He had her captured against him, with one arm locked around her back. He ran the fingers of his free hand through the loose tendrils of her hair. “How did you fare today?”

Jessie pulled the papers from beneath her shawl. “This will help you, I think, for I heard him discussing it and I swayed
him somewhat while he made the list. I believe it shows the lands Ivor Wallace wishes to sell.”

Gregor took the pages from her hand and turned them so he could read what was written there in the light of the moon. She watched as he scanned them and then nodded to himself with a half smile. When he looked back at her she knew she'd done the right thing. “This is most useful. You have done well.”

Pride blossomed in her. It wasn't something that came her way often and certainly not through the genuine praise of others.

“Is this list for the auctioneer?”

She shook her head. “Wallace and his wife argued today. She said that he must show it to someone she called Forbes, but the master was angry about that.”

“Forbes is Wallace's son. I understand that he attempts to have a say in the estate now, and that they are at odds.”

“That would make sense. I heard some of the servants speaking in the kitchens, and they spoke about the master's son returning soon. Several of them grumbled about it. It seems he is even less well liked than his father.”

Gregor nodded at the list. “Forbes could change this list before it goes to the auctioneer.”

She shook her head. “No one can undo my influence there. Anyone who looks at the pages will want Strathbahn to be included.”

The bemused expression on Gregor's face made her smile. When he rolled up the papers, she took the bundle from his hand. “I must return this to the cabinet before the night is out, or there will be trouble.”

“Now?” He sounded unhappy about it.

“No, but soon.” She glanced back along the path she'd
come, and then up at the windows, to seek out any candles that may have been lit.

“What is it? Did someone see you leave?”

“No, not tonight. But we must be cautious.” The thought that they might be discovered made her feel quite ill. Gregor's enemy would attack him as an intruder on his land.

“Has something happened? Tell me.” He examined her in the moonlight.

The concern Gregor showed softened her. “One of the other servants saw me going back into the house last night, but he knows nothing. I told him I was out getting some air.” She nodded toward the stables and clasped his hand. “Come, we will find a more secluded place to talk awhile.”

She urged him on with a tug of his hand and then led the way, darting across the courtyard and into the stables. She had meandered through the place several times that day and had located an empty stall beyond the horses, where the day's feed was kept.

However, once they were inside the door, Gregor attempted to take charge. He pointed at a ladder propped inside the en trance. “Here, up to the hayloft. We will be less likely to be discovered if someone comes.”