Harlot (Bartered Hearts 2)

Mind spinning, he turned, and his boot kicked something pale across the floor. An envelope. Caleb picked it up and saw his name. His heart lurched.

Instinctively hiding it from Sally, he tucked the letter behind his back and let her pass by. A few seconds later, he closed the door of his bedroom and tore open the envelope. It was no apology. It was an invitation.

His heart broke again, spilling hate and hurt all over his churning guts. His pulse raced, pushing the sound of his thundering blood into his ears until he could hear nothing but his own fury. She was inviting Caleb to fuck her. For money. The same transaction she’d offered to countless strangers. And the worst part was that he was going to do it.

Chapter 5

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“Stupid,” Jessica muttered to herself as she paced the floor of her kitchen.

She’d closed all the curtains, wanting privacy for whatever happened tonight, but the last rays of the sun still glowed through the worn blue material that covered the kitchen window. She’d told him to come after sundown, and it was nearly that.

But she’d done it all so thoughtlessly. She’d dropped her letter and run like a coward, and now she had no idea if Caleb had even seen it. What if the cook had picked it up instead? What if she’d shown it to her friends, who would spread news of the invitation all over town? What if she’d shown it to Theodore Durst?

Horror swept through Jessica on a wave of nausea. No. That couldn’t happen. She couldn’t bear it.

Either Caleb would come tonight or he wouldn’t. That was the only uncertainty she needed to consider. Everyone in town already knew what she was. They couldn’t know it any harder, no matter how many letters she wrote.

She’d tried to keep her cool all through Sunday dinner. It helped that Bill and Melisande weren’t chatty people. The meal had been silent but over quickly, and Melisande and Jessica had washed and dried the dishes in no time flat.

“I may have a visitor,” Jessica had said quietly.

“That man?” Melisande asked as if she weren’t surprised at all.

Jessica nodded, and that had been the end of the conversation. Bill and Melisande retreated to their cozy room over the barn as they did every evening. And Jessica waited.

In the end, she didn’t have to wait long. She lifted her head at a hint of a sound, and she was starting toward the front window to look out when his knuckles hit the door. Two knocks, both of them fast and hard.

Her boots skidded on the wood floor when she jerked to a stop. He was here. Her heart tried to fly from her chest.

Jessica put a hand above her breast and pressed firmly, trying to keep her heart from exploding free. She’d offered herself to him, and he’d come to accept the offer. Why did she feel so shocked?

She considered staying right where she was, just waiting there until he left. He’d likely knock a few more times. Maybe he’d pound on the door and scream at her the way other men had. She couldn’t imagine that. Caleb had always been quiet. Quiet and strong and noble. And if there was nothing noble about this, she still didn’t think he’d let himself be someone else entirely. Would he?

She’d find out soon. Find out if those gentle, careful hands would squeeze and twist and bruise.

Jessica forced one foot forward and then the other. She unlatched the door and opened it.

It was him, at least. Not someone else. Not his stepfather.

They stared at each other for a long moment, the eastern sky behind him dark enough that the light from the parlor lamp made his face glow. He’d shaved, and he suddenly seemed more like the boy she’d loved, but he’d never looked at her like this before. His jaw hewn from rock, his eyes cool and steady.

“How much do you want?” he asked.

Grief tightened her throat. She swallowed hard, but the sensation wouldn’t go away, so she simply opened the door wider and let him in. She smelled soap and leather as he passed. He’d bathed for this, and somehow that made her feel a little better.

He stood awkwardly in the parlor as she closed the door. She left it unlatched. Not something she’d normally do at night, but she was aware that whoring was dangerous. Bill was within screaming distance, if Caleb decided to work out some of his hurt pride with his fists.

She glanced down at his hands. If he hit her, would she bother to stop him?

They stood in silence. She wasn’t sure how this was supposed to proceed. She wasn’t even sure how much she should ask for.

When she couldn’t bear it a moment longer, Jessica lurched toward the small table near the window. A whiskey bottle had sat there half empty since her last visitor.

She didn’t ask if he wanted a drink. She needed one too much herself to be polite.

She poured whiskey into the last two pieces of crystal she owned. Both glasses were chipped, which was why they hadn’t sold. She handed him one without looking at him, then carefully turned her glass so the chipped rim wouldn’t cut her mouth. She downed her whiskey in one swallow.