The Harlot (Taskill Witches 1)

“Aye, it was.” Gregor’s smile was sad, and she noticed then that his eyes glistened. He took her hand in his. Kissing her fingertips, he whispered softly, “Sweet Jessie. It was revenge that Wallace sought, and that is not an honorable pursuit.”

“Does it not help you to understand, knowing that he is an old man with regrets, a man who lives on his memories of the girl he should have married, but didn’t?”

Gregor rested his head back in the chair and briefly covered his face with his hand. “It should be punishment enough. You are right there.”

Jessie’s emotions tang

led. “Please don’t be angry with me.”

Again he kissed her fingertips. “Jessie, I’m not angry with you.”

She wasn’t convinced. Bravely, she pressed on. “Tell me then, what is it that troubles you so? Is it because I failed?”

“You did nothing wrong. Far from it.” He gazed at her for the longest moment. “I learned something rather unpleasant about myself last night. I learned that the apple does not fall far from the tree.” He scrubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand. “Eleven long years I have sought revenge. Revenge is something I was told was wrong, when I was growing up, and yet I have been driven by it. It’s in the blood, you see.” He met her gaze, but seemed to stare right through her for a moment. “What you have told me now has confirmed it. It seems that I have been seeking revenge on my own father.”

Jessie’s thoughts raced as she absorbed what he said. “Oh, Gregor.” Now she understood. She huddled closer against his thigh and rested her cheek there a moment. “What a terrible shock that must have been.”

He stroked her head, and for a moment she allowed her eyes to close, and absorbed that deep and silent connection between them. It had been a time of revelations indeed, but they would both come through it, and what she knew above all was that this rapport they had was worth fighting for.

“Everything that I have worked for,” Gregor murmured, “my reason for living these past years, it all means nothing.”

She lifted her head. “No. You found out the truth, and that is what you needed to know.”

“Perhaps.” There was pain in his eyes. “I hate that I am like him.”

A soft laugh escaped her. “You are not like him, of that much I am certain.”

That laugh seemed to work magic, without her attempting to do so. The pained look in his eyes softened.

“I pitied him yesterday,” Jessie admitted. “Briefly. You are not like Ivor Wallace, but you needed to know the truth to make sense of what happened to the man who brought you up.”

He squeezed her hand. He seemed more accepting, and she was glad of that. “I thought myself alone, and yet found I have a family, after all, one that I will never want.”

It pained her so to hear that. She had no one, but secretly longed for loved ones that she could claim as her own.

He sighed. “The day is dawning. You must be on your way soon, my sweet.”

She shook her head. “If I take that purse and leave this place now, where will you go?”

He lifted one shoulder. “I have months until my ship returns, but I suppose I will go back to sea when it does, if I am still needed. Perhaps there will be freedom in being adrift once more.”

Months before his ship returned. Months she would gladly spend by his side. “We have been good together,” she said tentatively, “have we not?”

The expression in his eyes altered, desire glinting there, and her heart was mightily glad of it. “Aye, we have.”

“Perhaps we make a good partnership. Perhaps we should stay together awhile longer.” Her voice faded to a whisper, so afraid was she of putting that desire into words.

Gregor laughed softly and looked at her with fondness. “A vengeful blackguard and a condemned witch?”

“I suppose we are those things, but we are also a man and a woman, and together we can be more.”

“You are no ordinary woman,” he whispered.

Her heart sank, and then he lifted her chin with one finger and smiled into her eyes. “A woman, yes, oh, yes.” His gaze covered her possessively as he spoke. “And a witch.” He put one finger against his lips, holding that secret safe. “You have surely bewitched me, Jessie.”

Her heart thudded wildly as hope rose within her. “You see it, don’t you? Together we could build something better than either of us, something worth having.”

“Perhaps.” He seemed amused by her, and she feared he was only humoring her. “My fierce and prickly harlot…how difficult it must have been for you to state that aloud.”