Curses. It was the last thing he expected her to say. Women had to know everything. It did not suit him to share more than he already had. He shook his head. “No. I cannot explain.”
“You must, Gregor. I need to know.” She stepped closer. “I need to feel your anger and your fire in order to help you with this.”
He studied her and found her expression serious—serious and sharp, as sharp as he had known she would be that first night. For all her mischief, her disobedience and the bawdy games, there was much to Jessie Taskill. In that moment he knew that he had only begun to explore the deeper parts of her, the parts she did not show to everyone. Why did he want to be the one to discover every secret she held?
“I want to help you with this.” With one hand she reached out to touch him, wrapping her fingers around his upper arm through his frock coat, squeezing him as if encouraging him. “I’ve been down there and it will be easy for me to return and gain entry, but you must help me determine my true cause—your cause. I am bonded with you, and I can take your fire and use it.”
That statement was delivered as if it was a simple fact, and yet it carried so much meaning, more weight than she perhaps knew.
With a rueful smile, he drew her closer to him with his hands around her back. “The heavy purse I offered you is not enough of a motive?”
She lifted her shoulders in a shrug and rested her hands on his chest, looking up at him most earnestly. “It is enough, of course it is.” A frown gathered her slender eyebrows together. “How can I explain?”
She glanced away and then back, and he could tell she was thinking hastily. This was important to her. He stayed quiet, allowing her to find her way.
“I can take the purse, just as I can bed a man and take his money. But if that man causes me to desire him…” She walked her fingertips up to his collarbone, then pinched his chin and widened her eyes at him. “I can enjoy it, and thus make more of it for us both.” She chuckled, pleased with her point of comparison. “And then, of course, I’d take his purse for what I am owed.”
Gregor moved his hands to her waist, which he clasped possessively. Amused, he shook his head. How easily she could distract him. “I find that your explanation clouds my judgment.”
His lust was rising, and he was fast forgetting his cause. “I take your comments as an indication that you enjoy what we have had together?”
She nodded.
“In that case it is more of this mutual pleasure that fills my head now.”
Jessie slapped her hand against his arm. “Oh, hush now. You know that much is true, or you’d be a fool not to.”
She paused a moment and eyed him up and down. “Now, tell me what went on that has driven you to this. It will help me. Please. I told you my sorry tale, and you accepted me into your arms still. It cannot be any worse than that, and even if it was, I need to know.”
Did she need to know? Perhaps she did.
Unbidden emotions knifed through him.
Could he put it into words? He did not want to share his grief with her. Yet she had hit upon a truth. He needed to face what had happened. He needed to feel it again, in order to press on with this. Lately he had felt his purpose falter, as if he had been distracted from it by the elements of the task itself.
Yes, it would do him good to remember, to feel the anger once more. He looked down into her eyes, and there was such an earnest appeal in them that he grabbed her against him and kissed her forehead, then gazed over her head toward the place beyond the forest, the valley where Strathbahn lay.
“I’ll show you,” he responded gruffly, and before she had a chance to respond, he grasped her hand and led her back to where they had left the horses.
FIFTEEN
GREGOR FELL SILENT AS THEY RODE ONWARD.
Jessie respected that, remaining quiet despite the vast number of questions that popped into her head. All the while she observed him in sidelong glances. He remained inscrutable. It unnerved her. Moments before they had been together in thought and goal—hand in glove, and twice as intimate. Now that he had agreed to reveal more of his motives, it was as if he had set her apart from him.
She could explain that to herself easily enough. He was taking her away from his enemy’s stronghold so that he could tell her what had happened without that looming manor house intruding on their discussion. She could understand that. It was not a happy home. That knowledge she’d gleaned quickly during her hasty foray around its boundaries.
Cautiously, she had circled Balfour Hall, studying the make and mood of the place and observing its many doors and windows from the bushes and shrubs in the fancy gardens. It was easy enough to see what went on where, with the drawing Gregor had made for her lodged in her memory. At each hidden observation point she created a spell, marking the spot by drawing a cross in the dirt with a stick.
“Bheir mi-gniomh dhan taigh seo,” she’d whispered, drawing chaos to the places she had marked. When anyone passed those signs in the dirt, trouble would break out within the household.
Each time she laid the spells she was increasingly awed at the growing strength of her magic. The places she had marked glowed, intense heat coming from them as she whispered her enchantments. Instinctively, she knew that it was because of her involvement with Gregor. The bond she felt with him and the pleasurable tumbles they had shared fed her ability. Every day that passed she noticed the change.
The knowledge made her more confident, and she took pride in her work. She had been thorough and had woven a web of such spells all the way around the building. Soon enough, they would need extra hands to manage the house, and then she would arrive on the doorstep, readied by Gregor for her task.
Balfour Hall was a grand place, grander than any she had ever been inside. But its walls were laden with its unhappy history and the legacy of tormented souls within. She did not relish the thought of abiding there, and that, above all, was why she needed to know Gregor’s reasons for this task.
Jessie wanted to feel what he felt on the matter. For that, he apparently needed to take her beyond the forest. He was not happy about it, but he had agreed. As soon as they were out from beneath the soothing cover of the canopy his mood turned dark. She sensed that even without speaking to him. He had been unsettled when she returned from the manor house, and now it was as if any shred of good humor had vanished. It was to be expected, for she already knew his reasons were deep, complex, and obscured by fancy talk of business and retribution.