His hair was wet and clung to his skin, as did his shirt. The dark circles of his nipples were visible through the fine linen. He had washed himself, but hurriedly. The dark shadow of beard on his jaw made him look wilder still.
He was staring at her with the other man, and there was such fury in his expression that she was stunned. Covering the floor in a few strides, he claimed her. With his hand at the back of her neck, he pushed her toward the doorway. Once beyond it, he snatched her hand and took the rickety wooden stairs two at a time, dragging her behind him.
“Gregor, no.” Her arm was being wrenched from her shoulder and her feet stumbled on the steps. She bashed her elbow on the banister, and as she twisted in his grip, she looked back down and grew dizzy. Her free hand snatched at the grubby stairs, but that only made her topple, and she landed heavily, s
craping her elbow.
He paused, then grabbed her by her sleeve, hauling her up the final few stairs without further ado. The possessive nature of his approach astonished her—and in some perverse way also delighted her. He was brimming with dark, unruly masculine power and that made her want him all the more.
Once inside their quarters he set her loose, then slammed the door so that it rattled on its hinges. Jessie staggered free. He stared at her, eyes flickering.
“You are filthy,” he muttered, examining her arm, where her sleeve was torn and dirt from the stairway smeared her skin.
What would he do with her? If he locked her in that miser able room with its sad little cot, she would feel wretched. But he didn’t take her there. He grabbed her elbow and took her into his bedchamber.
“You attempt to ruin my careful preparations,” he muttered, as he stood her by the washstand where he had been earlier.
“No. I wanted conversation, that was all. My spirit is wretched to the core, locked up as I am within these walls.”
His lips pressed together tightly in response to that. Without hesitation he began to undress her, tearing at the laces of her bodice.
She heard the fabric rip. “Gregor, you are tearing it.”
On he went. Once he’d loosened the laces he wrenched the fabric off her shoulders, forcing her to step out of the gown as it dropped to the floor. Kicking the garment aside, he set to work on her stays.
“I have put my faith in you and you betrayed it,” he growled at her.
“I’ve done nowt wrong.”
“I salvaged you and brought you here, giving you food and clothing and the promise of a good reward, and how do you repay me?”
Confused, Jessie tried to work out his intentions. Then she saw it. When he had her down to her shift, he pushed her closer to the washstand.
“Take it off.”
“No.”
He reached out and tore the garment, ripping it down the front with his bare hands. Astonished, she cried aloud, “My shift!”
“You should have done as I said.” He lifted a cloth, dipped it in the water and then scrubbed her arm, holding on to her with his free hand.
However, he did not stop at her arm, determined, it seemed, to humiliate her. The water was cold. Furious, she struggled against him as he scrubbed her, glaring at his handsome face, hating him for this.
“Mister Grant did not want me and you are a fool to think so,” she seethed. “He did not even touch me.”
Disbelief flashed in Gregor’s eyes.
“It is the truth.”
A rueful smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I saw it with my own eyes.”
“A casual gesture, nothing more,” she spat.
“While you are with me, you are mine and you do as I instruct. You agreed to this at the outset, and yet you dare to dispute me.” He shook his head. “Your wayward actions are threatening to destroy our agreement.”
On he went, turning her to face away from him as he scrubbed her back and buttocks until her skin was raw and tingling, and the brusque treatment he doled out had became entwined with her desire for him.
“I have invested time in you, Jessie.” He delivered a sound slap to her buttocks.