The Harlot (21 page)

“Come, we will find somewhere away from the house where we can talk without being seen.” She nodded toward a place where the gardens grew wilder.

He allowed her to lead him through the shrubs and borders and into a more secluded area. As she moved through the undergrowth he heard her chuckle, and she glanced back over her shoulder from time to time as if to urge him on. How could she see where she was going? Gregor wondered. Especially here under the trees, where the scattered moonlight broke through only in patches? Following her blindly, he wondered at her strange talent. How was it that she surprised him still? Would he ever understand her fully, and why did the desire to do so unsettle him?

“No one from the house will see us here, but I must not be long away lest someone misses me.”

He could barely respond, so eager was he to hold her in his arms. He stroked her cheek and she turned her face into it, kissing his palm. As they grew accustomed to the gloom, he was relieved to be able to see her more clearly.

“Why, Gregor, I sense you are concerned for me.”

“I am. How have you fared?” He had to swallow down the urgent need to demand whether Wallace had touched her. That was the whole point, and he knew it was foolish to the point of absurdity to be angry about it happening.

“I have fared well. I have been given a week's trial, and have already gained the task of clearing the fireplace in the master's study. He pores over papers there, papers and maps. Today I learned that the maps are of the land he owns hereabouts. He rambles, and soon he will be telling me exactly what it is you need to know.”

The information she imparted should have made Gregor happy, but he could scarcely hear it for wanting to know something else. “Did he put his hands on you?”

He could not help himself; the question was out before he even thought it through properly. When she shook her head, relief flooded him.

“There is a fire in the old man still,” she commented, “but as yet he hasn't being able to claim his right to soil the newest serving girl.”

She chuckled, which left Gregor feeling strangely adrift. They had been aligned in purpose, yet now he was not privy to everything that was happening—and he had to know.

When she saw his frown, she continued. “The housekeeper has taken it upon herself to protect me from the leering master of the house.” Jessie rolled her eyes. “It is only a matter of
time, but for the present moment I remain the new, pure and virginal housemaid of Balfour Hall.”

There was wisdom in the way she spoke about the place, and her voice was filled with a gentle humor. It was only a matter of time, though? He had to fight the urge to suggest she leave with him now, before it went any further. They had come this far, so that would be ludicrous. But he had missed her presence, and his desire to couple with her was rising by the moment.

Moonlight bathed her suddenly, and it seemed to suit her so well. Her eyes sparkled and her hair tumbled to her shoulders most enticingly. Then she reached up and cupped his jaw, and there was a fondness in her eyes as she smiled at him. “Patience, Gregor. You have prepared me well and soon I will be privy to all the master's secrets.”

Staggered by the way she looked, Gregor stared down at her. A desperate sense of need held him captive, and he balked at that. Claiming her mouth, he thrust his tongue into its damp warmth, unable to resist. Hot blood pumped through every vein in response to her, and he felt his cock lifting.

Jessie responded instantly and moved closer, her hands on his shoulders, her body warm and inviting against his. The need to be between her thighs grew even more pressing when he felt her tremble in his arms. Abruptly, she tugged on his hand and drew him down to the ground, where she lay back among the shrubs and gestured for him to join her.

He dropped to his knees at her side, eager to be united with her. The sight of her there, lying on the earth, with the smell of summer flowers all around them, struck him oddly. How true and right it seemed. It was so far from the place he had found her, and on the doorstep of his most hated enemy, and yet Gregor could not help noticing how fitting the setting seemed for her.

“Let me see you.” The need he felt to reacquaint himself with her was overwhelming. As he pushed her nightdress up her thighs, he ran his thumbs along their soft insides, his cock hardening as he did so.

Jessie grasped the cotton hem. Half-sitting, she wriggled it from under her, lifting it over her head and off, before lying back down. With her arms stretched overhead and the white garment twisted between her hands, she looked like a goddess in the moonlight. Her skin glowed and the flash of white fabric was like a torch held aloft in her palms.

Gregor bent over her, one hand resting on the ground at the side of her head to keep him steady. With the other he outlined her form, marveling at it. She was such a luxurious specimen of her sex. He had bought her for a cruel purpose, yet now he felt luck had been on his side when he'd discovered her. The desire he felt was growing more immense by the moment. His cock had stiffened and now it jerked, eager for the clasp of her. Never before had he wanted to be inside a woman so much.

“Oh, Gregor, your hands on me…” Her head rolled.

She did not need to say more; he felt it, too. “Yes, my sweet, I know.”

The malleable flesh of her breasts lifted in response to his touch, the nipples growing hard under his fingers.

While he explored her he dropped a kiss on her throat, and another on her mouth. Unreservedly, her lips parted beneath his and the warm, wet cave of her mouth welcomed the thrust of his tongue there. Acknowledgment roared inside him. Jessie wanted him—she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“Ah, that is good,” she whispered, and abandoned the nightdress. With a happy sigh, she pushed her breasts together.

It was an offering he could not resist. Breathing in the now familiar musky scent of her skin, he bent to lick one nipple.
Slowly he circled it, and when she moaned aloud he moved to the other, tenderly swiping its knotted peak with his tongue. When her hips lifted toward him, he shifted. Wrapping his hands under her knees, he opened her legs and climbed between them.

The soft earth beneath his knees barely registered. The only thing he was aware of was her. He was finally there again, finally in that heavenly place. He kissed the soft curve of her belly, then moved lower, smiling to himself when she stroked his head and gasped.

He breathed over the mound of her puss, blowing on the feathery hair guarding her there. She moved restlessly, her body swelling up from the ground as her back arched. The scent of her intoxicated him, and for a moment he closed his eyes and just breathed her in, marveling at the way her fragrance seemed to dance among that of the foliage and the earth. With both hands he held her open, his fingers at the top of her thighs, his thumbs parting the plump, silky folds of her puss. Cursing the fact that it was too dark to see her well, he dipped his head and explored her with his tongue instead.

“Gregor! Oh, Gregor.” Again her hands stroked over his head.

The pleasurable sighs she gave swamped his senses. His cock was hard to the point of pain, his ballocks high and tight, his spine throbbing.
Not yet,
he told himself. He had dreamed of this very thing the night before—dreamed of lifting her with his hands around her rump, and holding her open so that he could drink from her—and he would make it happen if it killed him.

With his tongue pressed against her hot folds, he ran it the length of her slit to her entrance, where her melting flow doused his tongue in nectar. He pushed inside, lapping at her. Her fingers clutched at his hair distractedly, her feet lifting
from the ground. Without disengaging, Gregor shifted position. Draping her legs over his shoulders, he pushed his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her to gain better access, moving his tongue in and out of that glorious place, devouring her juices until she seemed close to her peak. Then he ran his tongue higher, to her swollen bud, circling it before stroking back and forth.

It was then that Gregor noticed he could see more clearly, for her body gleamed oddly. It looked almost unnatural, glowing like an insect he had once seen in the tropics, a thing they called a firefly. This had to be some trick of the moonlight, or its reflection on a nearby patch of water. Whatever the cause, it meant that he could see the ecstasy in her face. That she was pleasured by this was in no doubt, and the knowledge that he had made her so burned in his chest, his sense of pride and his need for her doubling.

Again he ran his tongue over her bud. Her body lurched. She cried out in her release and he lifted his head. Grappling for his breeches, he set his cock free and then moved between her thighs, ready to mount her.

As he did, the sight before him forced him to a halt.

Jerking back, he stared down at her, for he could not believe what he saw.

Her entire body was glowing, and when her head rolled and her eyes opened to the sky, he saw purple light flash in her eyes, just as he had seen at the Drover's Inn when she had ridden the horse without falling, despite her odd fear of the beasts. Gregor was horrified and yet compelled by the change he witnessed in her.

Was this her real nature? If so, all that had been said about her was true. He clasped her chin and turned her head from side to side, examining her.

Recognition flashed in her eyes when she met his gaze, and
she quickly turned her face away. Her eyelids lowered and she let out a strange, mewling sound, one filled with regret. She had not wanted him to know.

Gritting his teeth, he silently cursed himself for his denial of evidence that had presented itself from the moment they'd met. Then he felt her pulling away from him, and knew he had to act on it. With his hand on her jaw, he forced her to face him. “Look at me, Jessie.”

She shook her head.

“It is true what they said, isn't it? You practice witchcraft.”

Her eyes flashed open. “I've done nothing bad, I promise you, Gregor. I know only a few spells and I have never hurt anyone.”

She grasped him tightly, as if afraid he would turn away from her forever.

Yet it was he who should be afraid, and he knew it. He'd dismissed it as nonsense and trickery, and now he had to face the consequences. Gregor Ramsay recognized that for the first time in many years he felt fear, and yet the thing he feared was also the thing he desired above all else.

“Please, Gregor. Please don't cast me aside.”

The eerie sound of an owl's call traveled close by on the night air. “I should. I should be done with this now.” A chill ran the length of his spine.

She whimpered, and the light that had built around her began to fade. Her head rolled again, her body lifting to meet his.

His thoughts were in chaos, and yet so much that had happened began to make sense. He should not have dismissed it so readily. He should have listened to what they said, but he'd been swayed by the look of her. And now, after all that had passed between them, he could no longer deny that he'd
turned a blind eye and a deaf ear because lust had taken him.

As soon as he'd seen her, he'd wanted her. That was the truth of it. Rational thought evaded him as images from their time together flashed through his mind. That very day he'd wondered about it, yet still he came here wanting her, wanting Jessie Taskill.

“Have you used your craft on me?” he demanded.

“No, never.” The conviction in her tone was reassurance enough, but she rushed on, vehement in her defense. “I have used it to aid your cause, yes, up at the house, but not to hurt or lead you. I could never do that.” She paused, and he felt her holding back. “I am grateful for all you have done for me. You saved me from the bailie. I want to help you in your quest here. I would never harm you.”

She clasped the collar of his frock coat and drew him closer to her. “Gregor, please, I need you. When we couple it makes me stronger. It helps me in my task.”

The feel of her hands roving his back captured him. She was so lush and inviting beneath him, her hips lifting to his. The invitation was so strong and his cock was harder still inside a heartbeat, responding to her desire. His hips began to move again, the need to invade her sweet, succulent territory pressing, no matter the consequence.

Gregor felt the world spinning away, as if everything he had known and experienced was nothing in comparison to this moment where he found himself yearning to push inside this woman, this woman who was both a whore and a witch—a
condemned
witch. As the thought occurred to him and he recalled the baying crowd in the inn in Dundee, an urgent sense of defiance knifed through him.

I will not let it happen.

“God help me, I cannot resist you.” He took his cock in
his hand, directing it to her hot opening. He wanted her so badly that reason escaped him.

When he pressed against her and her body gave, his crown eased inside. The exquisite grip of her opening on his distended cock winded him. He was forced to pause, to inhale deeply. Then she rippled beneath him and her sleek channel embraced him, welcoming him in, and he pushed deeper. Her cunt enclosed his length, tightening on him. There was nothing like it, and for a long moment he savored the intense clasp of her body on his. Then he gave in to his need to thrust deeper—to the hilt.
Jessie.

Her name rang through his mind when his crown hit home.

A gasp of pleasure issued from her mouth and her fingers dug into his back, urging him on. He needed no such encouragement. Driving into her, he arched his spine and placed a kiss on her pale throat. It was hot and damp to the touch, and he licked her skin, tasting her.

“Ah,” she cried out, “'tis as if you source the strongest part of me and make me more alive than I have ever been, more powerful.”

He cursed again. It was the crazed stuff of dreams—drink addled dreams at that. “Madness, this is madness.”