The Harlot Read Free

There was another man with the guard now—a minister, judging from his garb. Jessie sankback onto her haunches and sighed. No doubt he was here to deliver a lesson in all that was pious and holy, serving it up for the good of her soul. She put her elbows on her knees and rested her chin on her hand. Her beliefs ran in an entirely different direction. Like all those in her mother’s line, her soul was attuned to nature, not the kirk.
    Once she gathered a few more pennies she would be able to travel north to the Highlands, where her kind was not viewed quite so harshly. There she could let her craft blossom and grow as she longed to. Magic was rising within her, a powerful legacy she could not deny. Each day she had to rebuild the dam that held it back, lest it flood her. In the Highlands, she could live without fear. Home, she silently chanted, home and brethren. It was her dream.
    Her eyes closed. Memories from her upbringing haunted and pained her. A dream it was, a dream that might never be fulfilled if the events of this day were any indication. She would meet the same fate as her mother if she did not escape, and that meant she had to take the risk. She had to use her magic once again.
    Footsteps sounded in the corridor.
    Once the minister was gone she would decide upon her course of action. Rising to her feet, she stalked into a corner, where she stood with her arms folded across her chest. When the guard rattled his key and shoved it into the lock, she looked at it longingly. She could easily make it drop from his belt as he walked away, but she could not take the risk right at that moment, especially not with two of them watching her.
    â€œLuck is on your side, Jessica Taskill,” the guard said. “The minister has risen from his bed to pray with you awhile.”
    Jessie pressed her lips together while she battled the urge to tell them her beliefs did not match theirs. She managed toresist sparring out of bad humor, because she knew if she kept quiet and acted penitent, he would be gone all the sooner.
    The minister stepped into the cell and the guard locked the door behind him, then gestured with the candle he held aloft. “If she gives you any trouble you be sure to call out, Minister. I will hear you.”
    Jessie looked at the minister for the first time. He wore a wide-brimmed hat and his head was lowered, which made it difficult to see him. Squinting in the gloom, she ducked a little, trying to catch sight of his face. Then the guard set his candle in a sconce outside the cell. The light filtered in and she was able to properly assess the build of her caller. He was a large man, tall and bulky around the shoulders, unlike any minister she had ever seen. He wore the long somber cassock of the church, true enough, and it was buttoned from collar to hem, but she spied a fine ring snaked around his little finger, and expensive leather boots on his feet—silver-buckled boots.
    â€œThank you,” the minister replied. “I will say a few prayers with the sorry lass, and I’ll call you when I am ready to leave.”
    The guard nodded and lumbered off.
    The other man kept his head lowered until the sound of the guard’s footsteps scuffing along the hallway faded. What little candlelight fell into the cell from the hallway beyond was not aiding Jessie’s quest to study his face, and she leaned closer, her curiosity rising by the moment. His jaw was solid, and when he turned his face to listen to the guard’s retreat, she saw his mouth. Wide and passionate it was, and scarred from one corner to his cheekbone.
    Recognition flared in her. “That guard is a fool,” she whispered. “No minister would wear fancy boots such as those.”
    â€œYou have sharp eyes and an astute mind.” The man lifted off his hat, fully revealing his features.
    Jessie’s interest grew. “I know you. You were at the inn when they came for me.”
    â€œYes, and I can