Harlot (Bartered Hearts 2)

When she finally risked a glance, he was watching her in disbelief, as if shocked that she’d drink hard liquor. A terrible laugh welled up inside her at the thought that she was a genteel whore who would never touch whiskey. She managed to cover her hysterical reaction in a cough.

Caleb shook his head and downed his own drink. His hand looked too large around the glass. “How much?” he asked again as he set it down with a thunk.

Jessica nodded. Best to get on with it. “For a night?”

“What else?”

“I don’t… I just… Yes. A night. Of course.”

“Unless you have a specialty,” he sneered.

She blanched. Her only specialty had been virginity, and that had been quickly done away with. She didn’t even have enough general skills at whoring to know what a specialty might be.

“Tell me what you offer.” His voice was rough and cool, a hard winter wind that wrapped around her.

Jessica felt her lips part, but she couldn’t make her throat work. She couldn’t get any words out or take a breath in. She didn’t want to participate in this negotiation. She only wanted it to be done. She’d lie down and let him plow his body into hers, and then she’d have the money. Only a little, but more than she’d had before.

She was a coward. Yet another nasty name to tack on to the others.

“Five dollars,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Five dollars. For the night.”

Caleb huffed. “I’d heard you were pricey. That’s something to be proud of, I suppose. No lowly dirt farmers allowed between those legs?”

She tried to make her squeak of shock sound like an agreement.

“What makes you think I have five dollars?”

“I don’t know,” she managed. “That’s my price.” She couldn’t do it for less. In fact, five dollars would only put a dent in what she needed, but right now she had just seventy-five cents in the can she kept buried in the root cellar. The only other option for paying the taxes was selling the cow, and then they’d have to survive winter without milk or butter.

Caleb stepped closer to her, and Jessica flinched away, but he reached past her for the whiskey and poured them both another drink. She took her glass so quickly that whiskey sloshed onto the floor. Ignoring it, she gratefully downed the nasty liquid.

He set his empty glass down more softly this time. He walked toward the window, despite that it was full dark now. His fingers touched the faded blue calico shielding them from view, and then he twitched the two panels tighter together. “I’ll give you twenty,” he said.

Jessica froze, waiting for some explanation. But he stared ahead at his own hands as they smoothed the thin fabric. “Pardon?” she finally asked.

“Twenty dollars, but I want everything.”

She shook her head. “Everything what?”

His boot heel ground unforgivingly against the wood floor when he turned toward her. “I want everything you’ve ever done with other men. Everything you’ve been paid for. I want you to do it all with me.”

“Tonight?” she whispered, her mind sifting through images.

“No. For as long as it takes. A few days, maybe a week. But you won’t see anyone else, understand? Not while I’m here. I’m your only customer now.”

Everything she’d ever done would take two nights at the most, but she didn’t tell him that. Instead of arguing semantics, she argued money. “Twenty-five,” she countered.

“Done.”

She nearly gasped in shock. She hadn’t anticipated that the deal would be struck so quickly. Twenty-five dollars. It was far more than she’d dared expect. Even five dollars had seemed a stretch. Twenty-five would not only pay the taxes but also get her through the next full year. She should have been thrilled, but instead she was horribly aware that they’d worked out the deal and now it was time. Time to give Caleb what he’d paid for.

He tugged a small sack from his coat pocket. “I trust you’ll honor our agreement if I pay in advance.” Coins clinked into his hand and glinted deep gold in the lamplight. He counted out a stack and set it on the table. Jessica nodded.

“Well then,” he said. “Your room.”