Something caught Cormac’s attention, and he walked down the hallway quietly, glancing about as he went. When he looked her way, he peered directly at her, into the gloom.
Her blood froze.
A moment later he turned away and retreated.
He had not seen her! Jessie began to breathe again when she heard the stairs above creaking as he returned to his quarters. She had done it; she had mimicked Lennox’s shadow spell. Her heart beat freely once again.
She could only hope Cormac was taking the bottle back to whomever he’d been with the night before, and not looking for her. The sooner she was done with this the better, for he would move on to her when he became bored with the other woman. His leering glances assured Jessie of that.
Once the sound of his movements had faded away, she darted over to the door and found to her relief that the key had been left in place. She entered the room and raced to the cabinet, where she replaced the papers. A moment later she was back out in the hallway.
As she made her way cautiously up the stairs, following in Cormac’s tracks, she wondered whether luck had been on her side. Perhaps he’d been too drink-addled to notice her there in the shadows. Perhaps it was because her magic was growing more powerful and she had hidden herself well. If so, that was Gregor’s doing. Her relationship with him was giving her what she needed to learn and grow her craft.
Love, she realized. I love him.
And it pained her deeply, because this man who had brought her so many precious things would soon be gone from her life.
TWENTY-TWO
THE FOLLOWING MORNING MASTER WALLACE pounced before Jessie even got as far as the fireplace. She had barely stepped through the door when he grabbed her and had her pushed up against the wall.
The pail and her tools fell to the floor with a clatter. “Master Wallace!”
“Let me look at you.” He jerked her chin to face him. There was whisky on his breath and his eyes looked strange, as if he’d had little sleep. “I came to you last night, but you were not in your room.”
Jessie’s gut tensed. “P’raps you came when I was doing a task for Mistress Gilroy. What was it you required me for, sire?”
If she continued to weave a web of lies, she might be trapped in it. She struggled to offer him a becoming glance, the way Gregor had taught her to. Why was it suddenly so hard to do what she had done so easily and so well in Dundee? If this were Gregor, it would not be hard, yet she could not force herself to pretend it was, especially knowing what she did.
’Tis a task. Gregor’s happiness and my fee are my rewards.
Wallace’s hands roamed her waist and hips. “I require you to make this old man happy. Make me smile as I once did, Jessie.”
The drink was talking here. He swayed against her as he grasped her breast through her bodice.
Jessie fought the urge to flinch and struggle out of his grasp. “How can I make you smile, sire?”
His face loomed closer, and then he sniffed her hair. “I knew a lass like you, a long time ago.”
It was the last thing she’d expected hi
m to say.
Again he grasped her breast, squeezing it roughly through her clothing. “She was a pretty woman, with soft skin.” He lifted his hand and ran his knuckles over Jessie’s cheek. “Always had a smile for me.”
There was a wistful expression on his face.
Jessie forced a smile, hoping it would assuage him.
“Aye, that’s it.” His eyes grew sad. “What I would not do to see her again. Agatha was her name. Aggie they called her.”
Jessie’s attention sharpened. Agatha… The name sounded familiar and she scoured her memory to place it. Perhaps she had heard it in the kitchens. While Master Wallace rambled on about this woman, she turned her face away and flitted through the various conversations she had witnessed since she had been at the house. No, there had been no mention of anyone called Agatha. Still, it tapped away inside her mind—and then she remembered. Gregor had mentioned the name the day he’d taken her to Strathbahn.
She inhaled quickly, startled at the connection. Agatha was Gregor’s mother! Jessie glanced at Master Wallace, who was smiling to himself, his thoughts faraway. Could it be a coincidence? Agatha was a common enough name.
Shifting so that she could get a better look at him, Jessie noticed there was genuine regret in his expression. He was talking about his sweetheart.
When he saw that she was looking at him, he smiled again. “How old are you, lass?”