The Harlot (15 page)

GREGOR LET HER SLUMBER ON THE FOLLOWING
morning because her sleep had been so fitful. He rose quietly and prepared for the day ahead. When she stirred and sat up, she held the blanket to her chest and peered at him with sleep-heavy eyes.

He strolled over to her. “I will ask the alewife to send up some breakfast for you. When you are dressed, come downstairs and we'll be on our way.”

He reached out and caressed her cheek.

She nodded, and then covered his hand where it rested against her soft skin.

“I have things to attend to,” he said as he drew away and reached for his hat. The truth was he needed to clear his head.

He had slept even less than she did. He'd watched over her, concerned that the nightmares would return again. Then he'd wondered why he was doing such a thing. It had taken several more hours for his muddled reasoning to subside and his thoughts to alight on Balfour Hall and its owner. That was
what he was supposed to be thinking about. Jessie was taking his attention away from that goal. The
Libertas
would return in less than six months and everything had to be in place for that moment. They had to move forward.

Once he was outside he took a deep breath and headed to the stables. The morning was fair, which boded well for their journey.

When Jessie appeared, she was wearing the pale gray dress he had purchased for her, and had her shawl tightly knotted over her bosom. Her hair was neatly secured and her face seemed freshly scrubbed. She looked rather pale, as if being indoors for so long had not served her well.

Why did that make him feel guilty and concerned for her? Why was it that he'd rather have her unruly and passionate, with high color in her cheeks and her hair tumbling down over her bare breasts?

Lust, that's why.

Sure enough, it could drive a man to madness. He had never experienced it this intensely before. Rubbing his head, he doubted his sanity for a moment. For eleven years he'd concentrated on earning good coin in order to come back his own man, a man capable of buying land and seeking retribution for his father. Gregor had taken women here and there, of course, but never had he enjoyed…what? What was this? It was something quite apart from the desire between them, the hearty nature of their fornication. Companionship, he supposed.

As she approached him, he noticed that she looked upon the two horses with a troubled expression. Pushing the lingering thoughts of intimacy from his mind, he recalled the way she'd acted that first day when he'd had her mount the horse behind him. She'd clung to him like a limpet for the entire journey. At the time he'd dismissed it and assumed she was trying to
work her female charms on him. Now he wasn't sure that was the case.

Remembering how she had been when he teased her, he vowed to handle her with as much caution as he could. Their recent discussions had been fraught enough. He was not sure how much more revelation he could take, and he needed his faculties clear when they got to Craigduff.

He nodded at the horses. “We will travel quicker with two mounts.”

Her hands knotted together, unraveled and then knotted again against the front of her skirt, yet she forced herself to nod in response to his statement. Then she glanced at him and away, her gaze flitting about as if she was planning something. He had become familiar with that particular habit. What was she up to? Was it horses she disliked? Was she unwilling to mount?

The stable boy lingered to assist.

“This one is meant for me?” She pointed at the smaller of the two, a tan-colored mare.

Gregor nodded.

The horse lifted its nose, scenting the air as she approached it. She ran her hand over it. “Hello, my beauty.”

Then, in a much lower voice, she spoke in what sounded to his ear like Pictish. Intrigued, Gregor watched. He had already heard her speak a few Gaelic words, and apparently she knew some Pictish, an ancient Scottish tongue, too. One of his seamen, Jacob Carr, would lapse into the language when he had too much rum, a habit he swore was passed down from father to son in his family. What Jessie murmured to the horse sounded to be of similar origins.

The horse nuzzled her uplifted hand.

“It is a beautiful morning. Just look at the view,” she commented. She gestured at the hillside. He looked in the direction
she pointed, scoured the pigpen at the edge of grounds and the tufted hills on the horizon, but saw nothing as compelling as she seemed to indicate.

When he looked back at her, he found her attention was once more on her mount. The beast had lowered its head in submission, and she rested her forehead on its mane. Her eyes were shut. Gregor watched, bemused, as her lips moved as if in a silent prayer. When she opened them they seemed more vital, bluer than ever before, and strangely vivid.

Even as he noticed it, the effect was gone.

For the first time, his mind flitted back to that night at the inn when he had first seen her, and the accusations that were made while they waited for the bailie to appear. Someone had declared they had seen a strange look in her eyes.

A feeling of unease crept over him while he watched her, and he thought about what had been shouted about her that first night in Dundee. Now he knew about her mother, too. He rubbed at his jaw, and then rapidly shrugged off the notion. Once again his thoughts were wandering.

Jessie was smiling his way, and that made it easier to ignore the accusations that had surfaced in his memory.

“Does the horse meet with your approval?”

“She's a beautiful creature. I know we will fare well together.” With that she marched alongside the horse, and with the help of the stable boy, mounted.

Gregor noted she sat astride, but did not question it.

When Jessie noticed, she shrugged. “I feel more comfortable riding this way.”

Once again Gregor had the feeling that she had never ridden a horse before, but now that she was mounted and they were on their way, he was not about to confront her about it. They had reached a fair level of compromise, and he wished only to move forward.

Mounting, he lifted the reins and urged his horse on.

Behind him, he heard Jessie making encouraging noises, then a slapping sound. A moment later her horse galloped past his. When she reached him she was laughing in delight, one hand on the pommel of her saddle, the other on the mane of the animal. She was being jolted along at a rapid and most dangerous rate, and she did not seem to be holding the reins. How could she possibly be in control of the horse?

Concern flooded him. He hastened after her, convinced that she was pretending she could ride to please him, and that she was about to fall and injure herself. However, he soon saw that her shapely bottom was still firmly seated in the saddle. He could not fathom how she did not fall off.

Gregor urged his mount to a gallop to keep up with her and to lead the way. He had not planned to cover the distance at quite such a pace, but if that suited her, that is how they would undertake it.

“Gregor, it is glorious,” she called out at one point. She said it with pure delight as she peered out across the rolling landscape of Fife.

“It is.” An odd sense of pride rooted in him, even though he currently had no claim on the land she was admiring.

Once they neared Ivor Wallace's stronghold, Balfour Hall, however, Gregor found his own mood descending. One look at the rooftops of the manor house and the urge to march in there and flatten Ivor Wallace stirred in his blood. He'd thought that reaction long gone, and he quelled it, knowing that there was a better way to go about things.

He pointed at the rooftops in the distance. “That is the place.”

Jessie frowned. “You do not intend for us to ride up to the door, in order to show me it?”

“No, here is where we leave the lane.” He gestured off
the worn dirt track and up into the woods that flanked the manor house on the far side. Beyond that was the path to his old homestead, and he'd often played in those woods as a child. He knew them well. Taking her reins, he led her horse, keeping it close alongside his own.

Once they were off the lane and the land rose away from the house, he indicated the forest atop the hill. “We will be able to rest the horses up there in the woods. It is a good vantage point. It is well above the house but the trees will give us good cover.”

When he pointed things out to her, she looked and nodded. But he noticed that when he fell quiet, it was the forest that attracted her attention. As they began to wend their way through the trees, under the canopy of summer leaves, she became most excited, glancing about happily.

“It is beautiful here, Gregor.”

“It is, especially so in summer.” He smiled. “I played here as a young lad.”

She peered at him as if trying to picture it, and chuckled to herself.

When he drew up the horses and indicated that she should dismount, she scrambled free of the horse, dropping to the ground with a big show and much grumbling. Gregor shook his head. There was definitely something about horses that unsettled her, and yet she had seemed amenable to the beast when she'd mounted it. When he turned back, however, it was to the sight of her running off between the trees, touching the bark of each she passed as she went. Bemused, Gregor watched her strange antics.

She danced from tree to tree, her hands pressed to the bark, looking around eagerly. In the long grass, she took to examining the brambles around her, pushing them between her fingers and inhaling the scent. Gregor found himself entranced
when she began to twirl under the canopy of branches, arms outstretched.

Eventually she drew to a halt and let her head drop back. She seemed to be breathing the place in. “Ah, 'tis grand.”

Gregor wondered at her strange behavior, but her joy forbade him from questioning it. Once she seemed more settled, and smiled his way, indicating that she had recalled his presence, he headed over to her. “Come, if we skirt the edge of the woods, I will be able to point out the details of the house to you so that you will be prepared.”

She nodded and took his hand, but still trailed the fingers of her free hand through the buds and dangling foliage as they passed. “Foxgloves,” she declared, pointing over in delight. “And just look at the hawthorn and the ferns!”

Gregor looked where she pointed and then smiled at her, wondering about her again. At the brow of the hill, and with the forest at their back, he nodded ahead. “We are safe to observe from here. The trees give good cover. We are now at the rear of the building.”

Jessie peered down, agog. “It is a grand place. Is your enemy a laird?”

Gregor frowned. “A bonnet laird, no more.”

“What is that, a bonnet laird?”

“He craves the title and the power, but in truth he does little more than farm his own plot, for he is selfish and cannot win the respect or the loyalty of tenants.”

Jessie watched him closely while he spoke, and he noticed that the look in her eyes seemed uncannily keen and assessing. Eventually she nodded and pointed down at the building.

“That is the servant's entrance that you marked on the drawing, yes?”

“It is.” He quickly indicated the stables and outhouses.

She studied the building at length, and while she did so
Gregor watched her covertly. She was keen and eager, and that pleased him. Nevertheless, doubts had begun to circle in his mind about whether it was the right thing to do. Why? He was about to address the question when she turned to him decisively.

“I will go down there and find my way around.”

Startled, Gregor shook his head. “No. If you are seen lurking there you will not be able to go back and ask for work.”

“They will not see me, and if I go down there now I can easily make sure there will be too much work for them to manage. I will be able to secure a position in the house before the week is out.”

She seemed quite serious, and she stared down at Balfour Hall with determination.

Gregor's thoughts clouded. It was too soon. He hadn't intended for her to approach the house, not today. The eager expression on her face concerned him.
She wants to be on her way and done with this,
he realized.

Unable to help himself, he reacted. He grabbed her into his arms and ran his fingers along the edge of her dress, where her bosom swelled so enticingly. “They will not see you? How will you manage that?”

“Trust me, I will see to it.”

“You will turn their heads.” She had turned his.

“Is that not why you employed me?” Her eyes sparkled.

“It is.” He couldn't keep the rueful note from his voice. His cock hardened and he pulled her against him so that she would feel it.

She lifted her head. “You are not having second thoughts about my ability to do the task, I hope?”

After she spoke, she pressed against him, assuring him she was aware of his stiffening rod. He was about to respond when she danced from his grasp.

With a soft chuckle, she nodded his way. “For a moment there I thought you were about to sacrifice your cause for the sake of your own pleasure.”

He reached out to hold her a moment longer, but she hurried off.

“I won't be gone long,” she called back. “Wait for me here.”

He stepped out from the cover of the trees, but paused. Whatever happened, he could not afford to be seen there, not now. Studying her outline, he glowered after her, fretful that she might be discovered.

A few minutes later she disappeared from view. Much like with her mount, she had a way of taking over
his
reins, nudging
him
off course. What if she was seen? She was not fully prepared. She looked far too…womanly today.

Gregor paced up and down between the trees.

His mood became darker and more unsettled the longer she was away. That was not good. He would have to leave her for several days, if she managed to find employment there.
It is only because I am not prepared.