The Harlot (Taskill Witches 1)

The bemused expression on Gregor’s face made her smile. When he rolled up the papers, she took the bundle from his hand. “I must return this to the cabinet before the night is out, or there will be trouble.”

“Now?” He sounded unhappy about it.

“No, but soon.” She glanced back along the path she’d come, and then up at the windows, to seek out any candles that may have been lit.

“What is it? Did someone see you leave?”

“No, not tonight. But we must be cautious.” The thought that they might be discovered made her feel quite ill. Gregor’s enemy would attack him as an intruder on his land.

“Has something happened? Tell me.” He examined her in the moonlight.

The concern Gregor showed softened her. “One of the other servants saw me going back into the house last night, but he knows nothing. I told him I was out getting some air.” She nodded toward the stables and clasped his hand. “Come, we will find a more secluded place to talk awhile.”

She urged him on with a tug of his hand and then led the way, darting across the courtyard and into the stables. She had meandered through the place several times that day and had located an empty stall beyond the horses, where the day’s feed was kept.

However, once they were inside the door, Gregor attempted to take charge. He pointed at a ladder propped inside the en trance. “Here, up to the hayloft. We will be less likely to be discovered if someone comes.”

“No, I cannot go up there.” Just glancing up made her feel dizzy, and she swayed. The memories crowded in, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “I will fall.”

“My God, that’s what it is.” He clasped her in his arms, steadying her. “I thought it was horses you were afraid of.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you would think me a fool.”

“You are no fool.” Tipping her head back with his hand under her chin, he looked into her eyes under the faint glow of moonlight that reached inside. “Then the cart was no better than the horse?”

She shook her head.

“And this?” He lifted her in his arms, and for a moment her feet lost contact with the floor.

He was thinking about that first night, in the tollbooth in Dundee, when he’d lifted her against the wall to gain better access to her. Laughing softly, she thumped his chest with her fist. “If you hold me, it is not so bad.”

That was the truth, but she had not even realized it was the case before she said it aloud.

He set her back down on the ground, but kept her close in his arms. “I wish you had told me.”

The way he studied her made her want to explain. There was no reason not to, now that he knew about her magic. And he had returned. “It was because they made me and my sister, Maisie, stand on the pillars at the church gates while they stoned our mother. They thought it would teach us right from wrong. A man forced me to watch, holding me upright when I nearly fainted, to teach me of her evil ways and what became of people who attempted to cure others of their ailments.”

“Oh, my precious.” Gregor held her against him.

She clutched him close and rested her head on his shoulder. “Whenever my feet leave the ground I am put back in that place. My gut churns and the world spins.”

Gregor’s grip on her had tightened and she could tell he was about to respond. She shifted and rested her fingers over his lips, looking up at him. She could not bear it if he said anything. If he did, she would grow weak, and she didn’t want that. “Please, make love to me instead. That makes me strong enough to fight the world.”

He squeezed her. “I know. I saw it last night.”

At her center, she ached for him. There in his arms she was sure she needed to couple, more than anything in life. Partly because it gave her the power to sail through the day and address its trials, to influence matters in the house and sway the master. Already she felt the fire kindling. The source of her magic was building within her, set alight by the sure knowledge that they would mate and it would nurture her power. However, she also wanted Gregor Ramsay for a much more basic reason—desire. This man fired her blood like no other had, and it was hard to imagine that it would ever feel the same with another. Soon this task would be done and he would be on his way back to his ship. In the meantime she was grateful for the opportunity of each and every moment they shared.

He nodded over his shoulder, and guided her away from the entrance and into the gloom. “If they knew what you were and that you had removed those papers from the house, they would show less mercy than the crowd in Dundee.” With a sudden, swift move, he kissed her forehead. “I could not stand it if any harm came to you because of this.”

“It won’t.” Grasping his hand, she led him to the stall at the end of the stable where hay was stacked for the horses’ morning feed. “’Tis dark in here, but I feel sure you will find me,” she whispered, teasing him.

On her hands and knees, she scurried away from him, only to feel him clasp her waist and hold her still. She canted up her skirts and petticoat, then swayed her hips, inviting him closer. When his fingers wended their way around her hips and grasped her bottom, she tossed back her head joyfully. “It was that, you say, that first caught your eye?”

“It was.” He slapped her bared arse playfully, and then lifted her, stretching her knees wider and moving between her thighs. Her back arched and she swayed unsteadily while she waited breathlessly for his first thrust.