The Harlot (Taskill Witches 1)

He spoke with absolute authority, then draped the linen over her shoulder and turned away, leaving her to finish the task.

Jessie stared after him with a pout. He was a strange sort, and she found it hard to predict his reactions. Given time, though, she was sure she would know him well enough to do so. It was her goal.

The borrowed clothing arrived and Morag helped her into it, lacing the stays and the bodice of the dress tightly, for Morag was larger than she. When she had tied back her hair, Morag went out onto the landing and shouted for help. The lad reappeared. The pair of them cleared away the pails and took their leave.

As soon as Jessie joined him, Mister Ramsay dragged a chair away from the table, scraping it noisily across the wooden boards, and set it in the middle of the room.

Jessie stood by expectantly.

Resting his hands on the back of the chair, he began. “I need you to be committed to this task. Are you willing?”

Her mouth twitched with annoyance. Of course she was not willing. “You have not yet said much about it.”

“I need you to insinuate yourself into a wealthy man’s house and gain his trust by seduction.”

“For what purpose?”

“To aid me in bringing about his downfall.” Ramsay paused. “Retribution for a past injustice.”

“I understand.”

“Does the nature of the task offend you?”

“No.” She laughed softly. “Did you expect me to balk?”

“I need to be sure.”

For some reason her sponsor suspected she had doubts about the act of seduction, and his reasons for needing it to take place. That was not what riled her; he did. “Have you forgot ten what I am? A whore takes custom where she can. There will be little difference for me, except I will be paid by you instead of him.”

He nodded, the question apparently settled to his satisfaction. Meanwhile Jessie’s curiosity raged about the old enemy he had mentioned, and what their history was. Folding her hands in front of her, she met his gaze. “If you want me to play a part, my performance would be much richer if you would tell me why I need to do so. What is your grievance with this man?”

The slight flicker in his cheeks revealed his annoyance. “All you need to know at this stage is that you are to gain a position of trust within his household.”

Jessie wondered why Ramsay did not want to tell her more. “When you say trust, do you mean that he must trust me with his secrets, or with his silver?”

He gave a wry smile. “I knew you were a canny lass, the moment I saw you…performing.”

That pleased her. It was not often that people gave her the chance to show she was good for more than opening her legs. She had a sharp mind, given half a chance to prove it. “And the answer to my question is…?”

“Both. I want you to have access to his silver and his secrets.” He moved to take the chair he had positioned, facing her. “I want you to listen to what is said, and to observe his business arrangements.”

Jessie nodded, admiring the way Mister Ramsay looked when he sprawled in the simple wooden chair. His long legs stretched across the floor toward her, crossed at the ankle. All of that strength and virility had been hidden under his costume when she had first seen him. What a pleasure it had been to discover it that night, and to observe him now.

“For that you will need to lure him and gain his trust.” With one elbow resting on the back of the chair, Ramsay gestured fluidly with the other hand. “Tell me, for example, how you might go about offering yourself to a man of wealth, in your everyday occupation.”

There was curiosity in his expression. She was sorely tempted to tease and taunt him, but she did not want him to withdraw his assessment of her wit. Once he accepted that as fact, she would offer more of her opinion. Meanwhile, she would reel him in—just to show him exactly how able she was to seduce a man.

“My feeling is a woman has to be more cautious in her approach and allow a man of wealth to believe he has plucked a freshly ripening fruit, one that is perhaps not as soiled as the other wenches he might have encountered on the street.”

Thoughtfully, Ramsay nodded. “Yes, you are right there.”

Jessie could not help herself; she rolled her eyes. “Are you thinking of yourself now, or this enemy of yours?”

He lifted a brow. “I was thinking of my enemy. He has taken many an innocent maiden without regret.”

“And you—is innocence your preference, too?”

“This is not about me. Please keep that in mind.” Nevertheless, he was amused. His gaze raked over her. “Since you have asked, I prefer women who enjoy the carnal act.”