Jessie winced at his choice of words, swallowing down the memories as fast as she could.
“You had little alternative but to leave.”
She bit her lip, but he waited for her response, eyebrows lifted expectantly.
“I would have left there, yes,” she blurted, “once I had collected my belongings. You did not give me that opportunity.”
“Why would I? You might have been caught, and I did not rescue you for that.” His eyes narrowed. “Most women would be grateful that I had come for them, under the circumstances.”
This was a man who did not expect to be questioned and denied. Jessie’s skin grew unaccountably hot, so intense was his stare. Raw lust shone in those eyes of his, but there was resentment there, too, as if he regretted bringing her here. The fact that she felt both emotions did not help.
“That may well be,” she snapped, “but it does not overrule the fact that you tricked me into forging a pact with you, when I knew so little of what I had agreed to.”
She pushed back her chair, but once she got to her feet he slapped his hand around her wrist, pinning it to the table, tethering her there. His grip was merciless, and he put his full strength into it, as if to acquaint her with the seriousness of his intentions.
She glared at him. His mood, which had been restless at best and irritable at worst, had changed again. There was thunder in those eyes.
“You are a hellish, belligerent woman, but you made a good point—you agreed to the pact. So spare me your complaining.”
The subject was not open to negotiation. He was used to being obeyed. She attempted to pull free, but he held her tight, and his expression was both mercenary and forbidding.
There was no choice but to tell him the nature of her concern. “If I do not return to Dundee, Ranald, my master, will keep hold of my earnings.” She hated to reveal her situation, but she had to. “I do not intend to lose what I have worked hard for this past year….” She took a deep breath. “I cannot afford to.”
“I will equal the amount, in addition to your fee.” His tone had leveled, but still he held her, with his hand and his gaze.
Jessie swallowed. She felt oddly adrift, even though she was so firmly pinioned by him. Once again lust shone in his eyes, and it made her wish he would kick the table aside, pin her over it and take her. Her blood raced and her breathing hitched. That look he gave her was so devouring, so all-encompassing, that it made her cunny ache with need for the thrust of him there.
Before she had a chance to respond there was a knock at the door and two servants—a thin lad who gaped at them most blatantly, and a buxom young woman with an apron, who sidled them a glance as she passed—carried a large pail into the room Jessie had awoken in. When they had deposited the container the young woman paused to curtsy before she left again. “I will bring more hot water.”
She smiled as she took in Jessie’s position—latched to the table in her undergarments by her supposed cousin and guardian—then shot off behind the lad. A moment later the pair could be heard in a fit of giggles outside the door.
It must have been obvious the roles were a sham.
Mister Ramsay freed Jessie’s hand.
The laughter outside the door faded away, and soon the servant girl returned with a second, smaller pail of steaming water. Mister Ramsay ignored the activity. Instead, he looked at Jessie with undisguised appraisal. It was then that she realized the thin stuff of her shift was all but transparent as she stood in the light from the window, and he was peering at her as if assessing her potential to bed his enemy.
He truly wanted to use her to bring down another man, something she had never before encountered. The situation offered her some level of security. Nevertheless, she balked at it. And something about the way he looked at her made her wonder if he had doubts about her ability to seduce this other man. The gall! She clearly had much to clarify for him.
She took a deep, steadying breath and lifted her chin, eager to conclude their earlier discussion. “I accept your promise of a second purse, sire. I do not enter into a pact lightly and I assure you I am good for the task you have named.”
Amusement kindled in those unfathomable eyes of his, making him look roguish and wild. Her curiosity about what he was thinking grew, and she also wondered what might have happened had they not been interrupted by the servants.
The lad had not returned, but the serving girl lingered. She had her sleeves rolled up and a linen cloth hung over one arm, as if she planned to assist. Jessie felt unaccountably awkward.
Mister Ramsay gestured. “Go. Clean yourself up. Be quick about it.”
He was making plans for their time together, Jessie realized. Well, so was she. Her curiosity about his situation was building. Besides, the sooner they were done with this, the sooner she could get back to Dundee to claim her earnings from Ranald, and then escape to the north. With both purses.
Meanwhile this man seemed intent on proceeding with this ludicrous instruction. If there was one thing she was sure of in this world, it was that she was able to turn a man’s head. Her year of whoredom had taught her much in that respect. But she would attempt to go along with his plan while collecting his coin. As Jessie strode off, she couldn’t help but wonder again what kind of man his enemy was.
The serving girl awaited her. Unsure what to do, Jessie pulled off her torn shift. The girl gestured at the large pail and Jessie stepped into it. “I will aid you, miss,” said the young woman, pushing up her sleeves.
Jessie was mortified at the idea of being scrubbed by another woman. On the rare occasion she’d afforded a full wash, she had shared the experience with women, but never had she been bathed by another person before. She knew that ladies of wealth had such things done, but she was not one of those. “I can do this myself.”
The young woman continued with her task. “I would rather be scrubbing yourself, miss,” she said in a forthright manner, “than scrubbing the floors downstairs.”
Jessie shrugged. That was understandable, but neither was she going to stand there in silence throughout. “What is your name?”