The Harlot (Taskill Witches 1)

The woman stared at Gregor warily, but left them a moment later when her husband made no introductions and the conversation ceased. Gregor wished she had not seen him at all. Women were likely to gossip about callers they did not know. Word got about.

Her appearance seemed to sober Robert, too.

“Tell me this,” Gregor said, “does Wallace still collect maidenheads?”

Robert gave him an odd glance, but nodded. “Aye, and Forbes is as bad, by all accounts.”

That boded well. If Jessie could manage to present herself as an innocent, she could get close to him. The hard part was, of course, imagining her as an innocent.

“What is it you intend to do?” Robert asked.

“Wait, watch. I know that he has left the house at Strathbahn untouched, and that the livestock he grazes on the land can be moved elsewhere.” Gregor paused, because the thought of the old farm left to waste aggrieved him. “If luck is on my side, he will put it up for sale and soon.”

“You can do it without him knowing it is you?”

“The notary assures me I can, for a price.”

Robert chortled.

Truth be told, Gregor wanted more than that, but it was a start. During his first years at sea he would lie in his hammock and plan all sorts of misdemeanors for Ivor Wallace, from sabotaging crops to stealing his livestock and cattle. For a long time Gregor had wanted to go back and fight him, bare knuckled, to inflict the pain he felt. As a more mature man, however, he knew that would only bring temporary relief and, in view of Wallace’s status as a wealthy landowner, a spell in jail for himself. The more intelligent way to go about it was to treat Wallace to a taste of his own medicine.

Buying back the land, as much of it as he possibly could, and then presenting himself to Wallace as the mystery buyer, would begin a satisfying quest for supremacy among the local landowners. Once he felt Wallace was suitably embittered by his reappearance, he would find tenants for the land, and then return to his ship. With a foothold and a notary to watch over his concerns, he could continue to buy land from afar.

“If only your father were here to welcome you home,” Robert commented, somewhat cautiously.

Only Robert could have said that to him. They had been close, and Robert Fraser had stood by Gregor, advising him to step away when he’d been angry and hotheaded. It was Robert who had suggested he leave Craigduff for the sake of his sanity. Gregor had turned to this man to cheer the good times and to wonder over the bad. Until the end, when nothing more could be done to save their land, their home and their income, and he had lost his beloved father. Gregor had left without saying goodbye, and it had grieved him over the years.

There was wariness in his old friend’s expression, as if he was afraid Gregor might still be the volatile young hothead he’d had to advise eleven years before.

Gregor nodded. He sipped his ale and considered his response carefully. “Our land was stolen from him. I owe it to my father’s memory to get it back. Hugh Ramsay labored all his life for that, for our line. He brought me up alone and I knew how hard that was, every day of my life. He told me he made the land good for me and mine. He didn’t deserve what happened.”

Robert studied Gregor and then nodded in turn.

“It was Wallace’s whim to shatter my father’s dreams. That was cruel and unforgivable and I will not let it pass. The only thing that kept me alive, at first, was the knowledge that I would be able to come back and avenge him.”

Robert looked at him thoughtfully. “It might be possible to buy back the land, but that won’t bring your father back, old friend.”

Gregor’s gaze dropped and his hand tightened on the mug. “It is what he would have wanted.”

Robert leaned back on his stool and scratched his head. “You have built a new life, and it sounds like a good one. Are you sure this is the right thing to do?”

The old sense of frustration swelled inside Gregor, and he wished he hadn’t come here to the smithy’s after all. Robert did not know everything that had gone on. He did not know how Hugh Ramsay had suffered.

Eventually, Gregor nodded. “It has to be done.”

SIX

JESSIE STRETCHED AND YAWNED. IT WAS NOT often she had a hot meal in the middle of the day, and she had drifted into a short sleep while savoring her full belly. All was quiet in the rooms outside her current quarters. Now was the time to find out a little more about her sponsor. After all, she did not know whether she could trust him to pay her as he had promised. He was a fine-looking man and she wanted to believe his words, but he was quite clearly a blaggard. She had seen it herself when he’d presented himself as a minister to gain entry to her cell. The act had amused her, but it also indicated what he was capable of. He could easily double-cross her if it suited him, and she was cautious.

Kneeling by the door, she peered into the lock. He had taken the key with him, which made it a slightly harder task, but a spell would do it. And so long as she regained her quarters before his return, he would be none the wiser.

Resting back on her heels, she recalled that this was the first enchantment her mother had ever taught them, lest they ever got locked in anywhere. Jessie vaguely recalled having climbed into a cupboard on her hands and knees, with Maisie, her twin sister, following. They’d been hiding from Lennox, their brother, who was older by several years. Unable to find them, he had run off to their mother and reported them missing. Presumably it had set her thinking, and so the lessons in magic had begun for the girls. Lennox already knew a few spells, for he was older and their mother said he was more naturally gifted.

All the good memories that Jessie had of her mother were associated with magic. She had drummed into them what she called the important enchantments—the ones they would need to protect themselves. Jessie knew how to gain her freedom, how to cause trouble or avert it, and how to harness a person’s attention to an object. The latter was useful when selling wares. Their mother had also taught Maisie and Jessie how to protect themselves from ill health and from becoming pregnant. She’d drummed those things into their young hearts and minds so ferociously that they instinctively knew she regretted giving her affections so easily to their father, a man who had abandoned her when he found out about her craft.

There was so much more to learn and explore than what she knew; Jessie was aware of that. Yet the knowledge had only brought tragedy to her mother, and Jessie, too, found herself in danger because of the gift she had inherited. When tempted to try to expand her skill, she shied away.

In the Highlands she would be safe to explore it, and would perhaps meet more of her kind. Above all, her aim was to be reunited with Maisie and Lennox, from whom she had been wrenched the very day their mother was put to death. Meanwhile, Jessie knew enough to protect herself when needs must.