He turned to go, but Cora pursued him and grabbed his arm. ‘Oh, don’t go. You come so seldom and ‘tis a foul night and a long ride home. Surely, you prefer a warm body and some sport to a cold, lonely bed and the rain outside, Laird Ross. Plough this lass, and ‘twill ease your soul and numb whatever pain sits there.’
‘You are a liar and a thief, Cora.’
The woman just smiled up at him. ‘I can get you a jug of ale to stiffen your resolve, good sir.’
‘I don’t need it. Alright, lets us get on with this pretence, shall we?’
‘Good.’ She crooked a finger at him, and Callum followed her up the stairs to a gloomy landing where the woman unlocked a door, which had him frowning.
‘Why the lock?’ he said.
‘She is my precious jewel, and I like to keep her safe,’ she replied. The madam held out her hand. ‘If you want the whole night, you must pay now.’ Callum filled her palm with coin, and she hefted it and smiled. ‘The lass is soft and biddable. You won’t be disappointed,’ she said, sweeping open the door and beckoning him inside.
‘I’d better not be,’ he snarled at the foul woman, knowing she was lying through her teeth. Innocent, indeed. Did he look like a fool?
‘Enjoy,’ she said and made a hasty exit.
The lass was small, with her long blonde hair teased into tight ringlets, which fell over her face as she sat on the bed with her arms clutched about her chest. She did not come sauntering over to him as most whores did, and Callum could have sworn she was shaking. That was taking the ruse a little too far. He frowned, suddenly regretting his decision to come to this coven of witches.
‘I have paid for the night,’ he said. ‘You need not fear me for you’ll be gently treated.’ Silence met his words. That was strange, for whores usually teased and flirted to get more coin from a man’s pockets. ‘My name is Callum, lass.’
‘Callum?’ she said, turning to look at him.
Her face was painted like a wooden doll’s, with rouged cheeks and kohled eyes, and her dress was low-cut, garish and tight, yet the wide, fearful brown eyes were unmistakable.
‘Tara?’ hissed Callum.
‘Callum. Oh, God. Help me. Please,’ she cried, standing up.
‘What in all hell are you doing here?’
Tara shook her head and started to sob, so he took hold of her shoulders and shook her hard.
Tara’s first instinct on seeing Callum was relief. A friendly face at last and a means of escape. But soon, that relief turned to shame and fear as he began bellowing at her like an angry bull snorting out its fury.
‘What has happened, Tara, to bring you to this? Christ, am I so repulsive that you would fall on your back and sell your virtue to any man rather than be mine alone, lass?’
‘No. An awful woman forced me into this dress, saying I had to pay for my keep by lying with anyone she chose. And I have not lost my virtue to anyone.’
‘Well, you soon will if you stay here,’ he spat.
She shook him off. Callum had come into the chamber saying he had paid for the night. Surely, he could not mean to use her in such a contemptible way?
‘Did anyone touch you, lay a hand on you, lass?’ he continued with a vein throbbing in his temple.
Callum’s anger was terrifying, making Tara burst into more noisy sobbing. She wiped her face on her skirt. ‘No,’ she squeaked, ‘and nor shall you.’
Callum knitted his brows. ‘Fear not. You will not have to suffer me this night or any other. Why are you in this filthy place?’
‘Why are you?’ she retorted.
‘Never mind me. I will speak, lass, and you will listen. You know what this place is?’
Tara could only nod and shiver.
‘Do you want this life over a life with me? Speak.’
‘Of course not.’