The Harlot (Taskill Witches 1)

Eventually, she lifted her shoulders in a shrug, as if admitting defeat. “What plans have you for me this evening?”

Gregor wanted to laugh aloud. She was bored. It was no wonder she got herself into so much trouble. He surveyed her at length. He knew what he wanted to do with her. After this morning’s escapade he wanted nothing more than to work off the day’s frustrations in a solid bout of bed play. That was not what she was here for, however. It was proving difficult enough to control her, without giving her the free rein that would come from closer companionship.

She stared at him expectantly. “I am most willing to do anything you desire,” she added, with a suggestive glance.

Willing? When it suited her. He was reminded of how willingly she’d accepted his hand on her arse that morning—how she had pumped and writhed against it, until her lust reached fruition. He glanced over at the full curve of her bosom and the earnest, erotic look in her eyes. His cock hardened.

It was becoming a matter of dire necessity that he dismiss her, or distance would not be possible to maintain. Besides, the day’s events had left him with much to consider. The meeting with Robert had proved fruitful, and Gregor had to make plans for the morrow.

&nb

sp; “I am weary after the business I had to take care of this afternoon. I suggest we both go to our beds and sleep.” It was far from the truth, but if she continued to sit there looking so lush and provocative, he would be forced to carry her to the bed and seek relief between those delicious thighs of hers.

That was not what she wanted to hear. She pouted at him, and her gaze flitted about as if she was seeking more mischief to get herself into.

“We will continue your tutoring first thing in the morning,” he added, in an attempt to shoo her off.

Her expression brightened. “So,” she said knowingly, “you wish to observe me attempting to seduce an imaginary man again?”

Lord, the woman was more of a burden than a blessing. The blatant teasing in her eyes made his jaw clench. She wanted to flaunt herself, which was all well and good and helpful to the cause, but he was in danger of being driven to madness by her lascivious behavior. Abstinence was not the easiest task in the world when Miss Jessie Taskill revealed her skills. The inviting look she gave him would melt the strongest man’s resolve.

Gregor frowned, determined not to let her influence him. “No. Your table manners need some refinement. We will address that next.”

She stared at him, apparently wildly affronted by his comments. “Table manners?”

Gregor suppressed his amusement. She had a lot of pride for a woman who sold her body to survive. He was willing to wager that had caused her a problem or two. He found himself unable to resist teasing her. “Do you know how to say grace?”

Her eyes rounded.

“The Lord’s prayer?”

She threw up her hands. “I know full well what you meant. And yes, I do know how to say grace. I just do not understand why I would need to impress this enemy of yours with such things.”

“It is not only for him that you need to behave properly. If we manage to establish you within his household—”

“We will,” she interrupted, clearly annoyed.

“When it is done,” he continued, “you will need to convince the other servants that you are nothing but a hardworking, pious young lady who is in need of a position, a young woman who will not be troublesome in any way.”

She flashed him a warning glance when he emphasized the word troublesome.

“I am capable of all these things,” she responded defensively. “I have not always been a whore. I can do plenty of other work, and you do not have to worry about my manners.” With that she stood up and flounced off to her quarters, slamming the door behind her.

Gregor stared after her, and for the first time he found himself wondering what else it was that she had done. He knew very little of her previous life. Was she Dundee-born? What of her family?

As soon as she was gone, Gregor missed her presence. Frowning, he wondered how that could be so, when all they had done was bicker. He stood up and reached for the port bottle. It was just because he was not used to having a whore on hand whenever he might want one. He bedded women at every chance, yes, but that was limited to when they reached safe harbor. That event began a wild time of whoring and drinking. Then it was back to managing the sea.

Now he had a provocative and tempting woman close by. Any man would be tempted. The nature of the situation made it difficult for him, that was all. As he tried to explain away the mixed feelings he had on the matter, he recalled how she had looked that morning, facedown over his lap, and he instantly hardened. He swigged straight from the port bottle.

It was just as well that she had gone, he decided. She had a quick tongue and was far too wily, which meant he would have been driven to taking her in hand and delivering another good slap to that fine arse of hers. And if he did, his vow to abstain would be shattered within moments.

He downed enough port to knock himself out, and took to his bed. Her scent seemed to be everywhere, though. How could that be? He tossed and turned. Images of her there on the bed, debauched and willing, filled his mind and his dreams. Dawn eventually arrived, and even though he’d had a troubled night, he was proud of himself for resisting.

However, once sunlight filled the quarters, Jessie strolled out of her room, and she was as naked as the day she was born. Gregor cursed beneath his breath, certain that his vow to abstain would soon be shattered. Her eyelids were lowered, giving her a sultry look, her pretty mouth curving as she approached.

Accepting his fate, he made a new vow—to make her earn it.

“Too knowing by far, Jessie,” he said, and reached out and grabbed her.