The Harlot by Saskia Walker Page B

as he did so. Her breath caught, her cunny tightening until release flooded her.
    As she floated back to earth, a soft chuckle escaped her. Oh, yes, if that morning had been anything to judge by, she would be sleeping in this bed soon enough.
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    After Gregor returned to his lodgings and stabled his mount, he paused beneath the window that he had previously identified as Jessie’s room. He half expected to find it hanging open, his new cohort having broken free and made her escape. It looked to be intact, and he made his way inside.
    The quarters were exactly as they had been before, and yet he could not shake the strange feeling that she had not remained where he had deposited her. When he retrieved the key and unlocked the door to the servant’s room, however, he found her sitting on her cot, untangling her hair with her fingers. It was then he realized he should have purchased her a comb. She had no such feminine fripperies, and it might have kept her amused.
    She gave him an admonishing look. That was inevitable. Her initial angry response had mellowed somewhat over the afternoon, but he could tell he was about to hear her thoughts on the matter. He waited expectantly.
    â€œâ€™Tis not right,” she snapped, rising to her feet and foldingher arms across the chest as if readying for a fight, “to lock a person up this way.”
    Gregor gave a weary sigh. “I may not know you well, Jessie Taskill, but I have already learned that you are easily bored. The chance to run amok around the Drover’s Inn would be too much of a temptation for you. It is for your own protection that I kept you in here. You need to learn to hide from view until people have forgotten that there is a condemned woman who may be about these parts.”
    She narrowed her eyes at him. “You rescued me from one cell, to keep me in another.”
    Apparently, she had not listened to a word he’d said.
    Gregor turned away, taking off his coat as he went. A tirade of angry abuse followed him. Gregor bore it all stoically, while considering that it might have been easier to let her run free, and then hunt her down upon his return.
    When supper arrived they ate in silence, occasionally glaring at each other across the table.
    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 reachedfruition. 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.
    â€œI 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