The Harlot (Taskill Witches 1)
Her mind raced over what had happened, and how he had forbidden her to make magic when she was so vulnerable. That he had stopped her exposing her abilities and risking her life meant more to her than the fact he had pulled her from her attacker’s arms.
“Tell me, how long do you want me to be your protector for, exactly?”
Her hand went to her mouth and she swallowed hard, attempting to bravely state her desires. His eyes twinkled again and there was affection in them, too. He knew the state she was in.
“A long time,” she ventured.
“That seems like a fair exchange, on one proviso.”
Still unsure, she queried, “What is that?”
“I want you to be my harlot, mine alone. Do you understand?” Possessive demand flashed in his eyes.
Jessie’s breath caught in her throat, her heart swelling. She nodded gratefully, blinking back her emotion. She was about to respond, but the sound of the door to the landing rattling interrupted them, distracting them both. Gregor frowned heavily and looked toward the door, as did she.
“We did not lock it,” Jessie said, pulling her bodice into position.
Before he had a chance to say anything, the door was flung open and Morag bolted into the room. Both of them stared at her, finding her sudden and panicked appearance surprisingly out of character.
Morag closed the door behind her and waved her hands. “Hurry, you must be gone. The bailie is down there with a crowd of men and they are looking for a woman from Dundee, a woman who practices witchcraft. They think she may be at a posting house along this road. Is it you, Jessie?”
Jessie’s heart sank. “Yes, it is me they are after, dear friend.”
Morag nodded, and smiled a curious smile. “I thought it probably was.”
“Curses,” Gregor muttered as he leaped out of the bed.
“Hurry now,” Morag continued, “there is time to get away. I told them there were no women up here. Mistress Muir does not know that you came back. They plan to search the building, but they have started in the stables and outhouses.”
“They will assume, of course, that I am a wild creature living with the animals,” Jessie said as she hunted for her shoes, with no small amount of annoyance.
“You are a wild creature,” Gregor commented, “but we must be gone from this place before they find out for sure.”
“Aye, gather your things,” Morag urged, “and I will show you another way out of here.”
Gregor was already kneeling by his trunk. Opening a shirt on the floor, he threw his papers, the coins and parcels and several other items into it, tying the bundle in a knot. Jessie jolted into action and headed toward the other room for her clothing, picking up the purse from the table as she went. But Gregor stopped her. “Leave everything else.”
“My blue gown! I cannot leave without it.”
“I will buy you another if we escape this, and if you behave yourself I will buy you a wedding gown, as well. But let us leave this place, now!”
Jessie gaped at him.
Gregor laughed and grabbed her by the hand.
“The trunk and whatever is left in it is yours,” he said to Morag.
She led them into an empty room farther down the landing, a small dressing room next to the door to Mister Grant’s room, where she opened what looked like a cupboard and pointed inside.
“So this is how Mister Grant’s lover comes to him,” Jessie declared.
“Aye,” said Morag. “Mister Grant pays highly for this room.”
A tiny peephole in the stone wall let in enough light to reveal a narrow set of winding stairs that dropped steeply into the shadows.
“Oh, no,” Jessie whispered. The stairs were barely wide enough to place her feet and there was no railing to hold, only the rough stone walls. It was so dark below that she could not see the steps.
Gregor did not give her time to think about it. “Stay behind me and put one hand on my shoulder as you follow. You will not be able to fall.”