‘AYE?’
Sally stared at the young man who had answered her knock. Did she have the wrong house? She stepped back, glanced left and right. No, this was it.
‘Can I help you?’
‘Yes, I’m sorry, I … A woman said my aunt dwells here. Grace Boslam?’ She frowned when his face paled. He blinked and opened his mouth but uttered nothing. ‘I’m sorry, are you all right? You see, she directed me here. She said that Grace’s was the second-to-last—’ His crushing hug smothered her speech.
Shield growled but the lad didn’t seem to notice. He held her at arm’s length. ‘Sally Swann? Is it really thee?’
Before a stunned Sally could respond, a weary voice sounded within the house: ‘Stan, who is it, lad? Don’t leave them standing on t’ step, it’s perishing out there.’
Air erupted from Sally’s lungs. She pushed past Stan into the house.
A cry escaped her. The ash-blonde hair, though bound as usual at the nape, was lank and flecked with grey, and she seemed smaller than Sally remembered. Rosy cheeks, which used to dimple when she smiled, were pasty, the lines around her eyes unfamiliar. But it was her aunt, all right!
‘Aunt Grace? Oh, Aunt Grace, I cannot believe … After all these years!’
Grace rose slowly. Stan came to stand beside her and she gripped his arm. ‘Is it …? Really …? Oh!’ She threw herself at Sally and flung her arms around her neck.
Sally smiled at the faint scent of lavender she remembered so well. Burying her face in her aunt’s shoulder, she heaved a long sigh.
A cry broke through their tearful laughter. Peering inside the basket, Grace covered her mouth.
‘Our little Sally a mother? I don’t believe it.’ She stroked the baby’s cheek then her niece’s. ‘Oh, where have you been all these years, lass?’ She glanced to the door, as though searching for someone else, and her smile faded. ‘How’s your mam? How’s our Rose?’
Fresh tears welled in Sally’s eyes at the longing in her aunt’s. How could she tell her?
‘It’s all right, I understand. She’ll never forgive me, will she? I don’t blame her, honest I don’t, but I miss her … so very much. Norra day’s passed that I’ve not thought of you both, you know. Norra single day.’
‘Oh, Aunt Grace …’
‘Tell me, lass, please; is she all right, our Rose? Is she well?’
Sally clung to her, heart breaking at what she must say. ‘My mother’s dead.’
Time seemed to stand still. Then the heavy silence was shattered when, bending double, Grace howled like an injured beast.
‘Mam, come and sit down.’ Stan led her, sobbing and shaking, to a fireside chair. ‘I’ll brew some tea.’
Sitting opposite, Sally clasped her hand. ‘I’m so sorry, Aunt Grace, so very sorry.’
‘I … can’t … My lovely Rosie. And you. Oh, you poor girl.’
She lowered her head, Grace’s devastation too painful to witness. She hadn’t meant it to be like this. For years, she’d planned this meeting, intended to break the news gently, not blurt it out.
‘What happened, lass? When did …? Where have you been all these years? Did she ever talk about me? Did she ever forgive me? Did she—?’
‘Easy, Mam.’ Stan abandoned the teapot to wrap his arms around her, and she crumpled.
‘She’s been gone these fifteen years,’ Sally choked. ‘They didn’t tell me, Aunt Grace. I had no idea and it near killed me when I heard. I don’t even know what happened. It haunts me day and night imagining … I’d give anything to feel her arms around me again, anything.’
‘Fif … fifteen years? How did you not know? What in God’s name happened?’
A faint voice drifted from the gloom: ‘Mam, where are you? It hurts. It … hurts, Mam.’
Grace jumped up and hurried to a narrow bed in the corner. Sally gazed across in surprise; she hadn’t noticed anyone else present. Stan beckoned and she followed him outside. Shield was right behind her. He lay on the cobbles by the door, eyes never leaving her.
Stan closed the door to and sat on the step. ‘Our Peggy took ill last week. The neighbours have been kindness itself, ’specially Mrs Knox next door. She fetches round a meal of sorts when she can, but her offers of relieving Mam of her bedside vigil are allus refused. Nowt will shift her from Peggy’s side.’
‘Oh, I am sorry.’ Sally lowered herself beside him. ‘I had no idea I had cousins. Your mother hadn’t been married long when I saw her last. I remember attending the wedding.’ She smiled at the memory. ‘How is Uncle Ed?’
‘He’s all right.’
‘He’s a good man, your father.’
A look passed over Stan’s face but was gone before she could determine its meaning. He smiled faintly and looked away.
‘I remember him vividly. He would sit me on his shoulders and run up and down the street pretending to be a horse.’
This time, her cousin’s smile was as warm as hers. ‘He did that with Peggy when she were younger.’
‘Is it just the two of you? How old are you both?’
‘Aye, just us. I’ll be sixteen next month, and Peggy …’ His face darkened. He kicked the step with his heel. ‘It’s not fair. It’s not bloody fair. Eleven year old … She’s nowt but a babby.’
‘Stan? What’s wrong?’
His answer was barely above a whisper. ‘She’s dying. There’s nowt can be done for her any more.’
‘Oh my …! I didn’t realise—’
‘You weren’t to know. It’s just not fair. It’s killing Mam.’
‘Is there really nothing that can be done?’
He stared at the sky through dull eyes, ran a hand through his dark-blond hair. ‘Nay, not now. It’s the consumption, but Mam won’t believe it. She’s convinced she’ll get better. She used to get ill then rally but the last time, she coughed up blood.
‘That’s a sure sign, that is. I’ve seen it enough round here to know. There’s nowt for you once that gets a grip of you.’ He looked at Sally for a long moment. ‘I’m glad to finally meet thee. I don’t know what went on betwixt our mams, for she’s never said, but she’s allus spoke of you and Aunt Rose. She’s missed youse summat awful. I don’t know how she’ll get over your mam, what with everything else …’
She squeezed his arm. ‘I’ll help whichever way I can. I’m here to stay if you’ll have me. I’m so glad I’ve found your parents – and you and Peggy.’
He covered her hand with his. ‘Aye. I’m glad, an’ all. It’s queer but d’you know, I feel as though I’ve known thee all my life.’
Sally smiled curiously. ‘Do you know, I feel the same with you?’
She was so thankful Grace hadn’t turned her away, as she’d often feared she might. Whatever had happened between the sisters, Grace clearly didn’t hold it against her. It felt so good to be amongst family. Ivy and Arthur were wonderful but there was no real substitute for blood. For the first time in many, many years, Sally felt like she belonged.
At the thought of the Morgans, Tommy flashed through her mind but she pushed him away. It was time to nip those foolish imaginings in the bud; he’d been being kind, nothing more. She must put the past behind her, for she had a new future here, now. Her family needed her.
This brought a rush of happiness. She curled her fingers through Stan’s. ‘Let’s get back inside and see if your mother’s all right. We have a lot of talking to do. I cannot say I’m looking forward to it but she has a right to know.’
‘I’ll find a scrap of summat for the dog and dish up some broth for you and Father. He’ll be home shortly.’
Her stomach rumbled at the mention of food and she smiled gratefully. She didn’t want to swoon again, needed a clear head for the painful yet unavoidable conversation to come.
When they reached the kitchen door, Stan paused. A teasing smile played across his mouth. ‘This talking what must be done, will it shed light on why you speak like the bloomin’ gentry?’
She pushed him playfully. They were going to get along well, she just knew it. He already felt like the brother she’d never had.
The lamplighter’s whistle broke through the quiet room. Sally wandered to the window and lifted the faded curtain’s edge. Absently, she watched him extend his long pole, bring the gas lamp to life then continue on his rounds, leaving a misty pool of yellow-gold in his wake.
Leaning her forehead against the cold glass, she closed tired eyes. It had been a long day, and the dreaded conversation had been as painful as she’d anticipated. She and Grace held each other for hours and, slowly, the flowing words had eased Sally’s shoulders of their long and heavy burden. From entering one hell to escaping the second, and everything between, she left out nothing.
Between sobs, Grace had repeated one question: ‘Why didn’t my Rosie come to me instead of the workhouse?’ Unable to answer, Sally could only hold the broken woman. Grace had, however, managed a smile for the Morgans and blessed them for helping her escape ‘that divilish bastard’, as she venomously referred to Joseph.
Now, returning to her seat, Sally smiled softly at her aunt, who was asleep in the chair opposite. To have someone, be part of a family again – for Jonathan as much as herself – left a warm glow deep within. She bent to stroke Shield, stretched before the fire. She didn’t know what life he’d led but suspected this would be his first home in a long time, too.
It had been a day of highs and lows. She smiled to herself, imagining Ivy’s reaction when Tommy revealed her gift for Shaun. His handsome face swam in her mind but again she forced it away. Yes, quite an eventful day, she mused once more. Sorrow at leaving the Morgans, pleasure at gaining Shield, helplessness over little Lily, the stationmaster gazing up from the platform …
Her lips curved then bunched in rumination with thoughts of Con Malloy. Who was he? He’d appeared from nowhere in Bolton, then again in Manchester. She had to admit he seemed nice enough. He’d helped her both times without wanting anything in return.
The workhouse, she immediately banished. That building and all it stood for was in the past, she told herself firmly. She’d dwell upon it no more. Her mind switched instead to the reunion with her aunt and the surprising discovery of cousins. Their open-armed welcome was more wonderful than she ever could have envisaged.
She peered inside the basket at her slumbering son and stroked his cheek. ‘We did it, little one. We got away.’ This brought a surge of quiet jubilation. ‘You lost, Joseph,’ she murmured. ‘You lost.’
Peggy’s harsh cough pulled her from her thoughts. Admiration for her aunt filled her when, despite the deep sleep she appeared to be in, she instantly awoke and hurried to her daughter. A mother’s love was a powerful thing.
Stan, dozing beside Peggy, stirred when his mother approached. He raised himself on an elbow. ‘Is he home?’
Grace felt Peggy’s forehead, crossed to a shelf and lifted a bottle of laudanum. ‘Nay. He shouldn’t be long, now.’
‘Not long enough for me.’
She sighed. ‘Not now, son.’
Sally frowned. What did Stan mean by that? And where was Uncle Ed? He must have finished work hours ago.
Peggy coughed again. Murmuring soothingly, Stan smoothed hair from her forehead. Grace watched with a soft smile then measured medicine from a dark bottle and added it to drops of laudanum in a cup. Stirring the mixture, she glanced across the room. Sally smiled.
‘Oh, I thought you were sleeping, lass. Come say hello to your cousin while she’s up, for she’ll be asleep again soon. She’ll be that pleased to see thee.’
‘She can hear you,’ Stan told Sally as she neared. ‘Say summat, tell her who you are.’
Purple eyelids flickered when she covered a small hand with hers. ‘Hello, Peggy. I’m Sally, your cousin. It’s lovely to meet you.’
Soft brown pools rested on her face. The girl gave a half-smile and said laboriously, ‘Ah … in’t she … bonny, Mam?’
Grace and Stan nodded, eyes misty, and tears pricked Sally’s.
‘Not as pretty as you, Peggy, not by a mile,’ she whispered.
Peggy managed another smile and closed her eyes. She nodded when Grace asked was she in pain then squinted up again. ‘Nice to … meet thee, Sally.’
Too choked to speak, she kissed Peggy’s hand then moved aside while her aunt administered the medicine. Stan put his arm around her shoulders and led her away and they had just sat down by the fire when the sound of the front door opening rattled through the house. Moments later, Ed entered.
Grace made no mention of his absence. ‘Look who’s here, Ed. Our Sally’s come home.’ She smiled when her husband gasped and embraced Sally warmly.
‘Eeh, I don’t believe it! Where have you been hiding, lass?’
Sally knew instantly where he’d been; the smell of porter was unmistakable. Yet as with George Turner the carter, she now realised not all men were violent brutes she must avoid at all costs when they had taken a sup.
‘Oh, Uncle Ed, it’s lovely to see you.’
He hugged her again then eased into a chair, almost stepping on Shield’s tail. ‘Is this big divil yours?’ When she laughed and nodded, he cocked his head, eyes thoughtful. ‘By, you’re the image of your mam, lass, you are that.’ Shooting a glance at his wife, his smile vanished. ‘Is she here, your mam?’
Sally shook her head.
‘Nay, don’t suppose she would be, and who could blame her?’
‘Ed, please, you don’t understand,’ whispered Grace. ‘Rose … My Rosie’s dead.’
He blinked at her bowed head then turned to Sally. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, lass, I am really. I thought … She were a sound wench, your mam, a sound wench.’
Sally suppressed a frown. What was behind her aunt and mother’s falling out? From the little she’d gleaned, Grace seemed to be in the wrong. She determined to ask her aunt, but not yet. They had shed enough tears this night. Right now, she wanted to enjoy her family.
‘There’s someone I’d like you to meet, Uncle Ed.’ Stooping by his chair, she lifted the basket. ‘My son, Jonathan. The moment I held him, I knew what to name him. And if he turns out to be half the man my father was, I’ll be the proudest mother on earth.’
He stared at the infant for a long moment, smiled faintly and looked away.
‘Stan, is that tea ready, lad?’ Grace asked, cutting through the silence. ‘And warm the rest of that mutton broth for your father.’
‘Aye, hurry up. And when you’ve done that, you can run to the Blue Bell and fetch us all a penny pie. Our Sally’s back and what better way to celebrate than with one of Betty’s meat and tatties?’
Stan’s back stiffened at Ed’s tone, but his eyes remained fixed on the table. He poured tea into a large mug and passed it across.
‘And the grub?’
‘It’s warming.’
‘Aye, well, take yourself to the inn while you’re waiting, boy.’
Stan’s jaw tensed as he took coppers from Ed. When the front door slammed, Sally caught Grace’s eye and the older woman lowered her gaze.
Ed stared at the door and breathed deeply. Then he rose and crossed to the bed. He gazed at his daughter. ‘How’s she been?’ he asked. The edge to his voice when he’d spoken to Stan had gone.
‘No better, no worse. She managed a drop of broth earlier.’ Grace smoothed dark hair from Peggy’s brow. ‘My poor lass.’
He stared down at her bowed head. When he lifted a hand to her shoulder, Sally made to look away from the private moment between husband and wife. She was confused, however, when he flexed his fingers inches from her aunt then let his arm fall to his side.
She bit her lip. Something was wrong with her family; she could have reached out and touched the strained atmosphere. She wondered whether it was simply the stress of Peggy’s condition, but discarded this. The child’s illness was obviously distressing for everyone but something else was afoot here that she couldn’t put her finger on.
Lost in thought, she jumped when the front door clattered. Stan entered and, smiling, she took the steaming parcel from him. ‘Allow me. You warm yourself by the fire.’
He thanked her and held his hands to the leaping flames. ‘It’s beyond cowd out there. I reckon we’ll have snow afore the night’s out.’
Returning to his chair, Ed nudged him aside. ‘Don’t talk daft. It’s not that bloody cowd.’
Stan didn’t respond and as she unwrapped pies and dished out broth for her uncle, Sally kept her head lowered. These exchanges were uncomfortable to witness. Doubt snaked down her spine. Had she done the right thing coming here? It seemed her family had enough troubles without her adding to them.
Ed rubbed his hands as she approached with a delicious-smelling pie, hunk of bread and bowl of broth. ‘Eeh, that smells good.’
After passing Stan a pie, she turned to her aunt. ‘Aunt Grace, will you eat this now?’
‘Nay, I’m not hungry.’
‘Come and get some grub down you, wench, while it’s hot,’ Ed murmured without looking up. ‘It’ll do you good.’
The whisper of a smile lifted the corners of Grace’s mouth. ‘Aye. Aye, all right.’
When his wife sat, he began to eat. He didn’t see the eyebrow Stan raised at him – or the curling of his lip – but Sally did.
Lowering her head again to hide her frown, she nibbled her pie without tasting it. Tomorrow, she’d have that word with her aunt. Something wasn’t right here and she was determined to find out what.
Dodging a pile of manure, Nancy Skinner hurried across the frosty cobbles. Her heart fluttered in anticipation of the meeting to come and she smiled, glad she’d made the extra effort.
She’d donned her best dress, a revealing item in deep maroon, which clung to her curves and accentuated her large breasts. Her hair she’d brushed until it crackled and the soft tresses fell across her shoulders like burnished copper.
Along the length of the street, laughter and bawdy singing poured from alehouses when doors opened to admit or eject a customer. Before they could swing shut, sickly streaks of light from within sliced across the cobbles, revealing the silhouettes of rats scuttling by. Watching her step, she lowered her shawl and turned left.
Across the street, a group of rough-looking men peered at her as she passed and she tossed her hair, knowing the gas lamp would highlight the amber-flecked locks she was so proud of.
‘How much, love?’ Leering laughter followed and the speaker grinned at his friends.
Eyes narrowing, she looked him up and down. ‘Trust me, fella, you couldn’t afford it. And I’m fair certain you’d not know what to do with that.’ She inclined her head to his crotch and smirked when his friends roared with laughter.
His face darkened. ‘Trust me, whore, after I’d finished with you, you’d not be able to sit forra week. Come over here if you want proof; though you might find this here wall a bit rough on your face, for I could only stomach doing thee from behind.’ His friends snorted and patted his back, and now he wore a smug expression. Yet it slipped from his face when she crossed the road.
Halting, her barely covered chest almost touching his, she gazed up from beneath her lashes. ‘That right, lad? You saying I’ve gorra face like the back end of a horse?’
The group fell silent, mouths dropping open when she cocked an eyebrow at their friend then eased down the neck of her dress. Each emitted a whistle – including the man before her. She cupped his quickly swelling crotch, smiling inwardly when he groaned low in his throat.
‘Still prefer doing me from behind, would you?’ She drew his eager hands to her breasts. ‘You’d not like to press your face into these, then, nay?’
Seemingly oblivious of his grinning friends, he squeezed and tweaked her nipples, his breathing heavy. ‘Nay, lass, I didn’t mean what I said. You’re a fine figure of a woman. By God, you are that.’
She smiled in satisfaction at his simpering tone. Men were such fools. They didn’t understand the power women had over them, didn’t know when they were being played once their pricks took over. She rubbed his solid member, smile deepening at his gruff moan. Then in one sharp movement, she closed her hand and squeezed hard. The man yelped, eyes widening in pain and confusion.
‘For your information, I’m norra streetwalker, you shovel of shit. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t rip this sorry excuse forra prick off.’
The stunned group loomed, faces twisting in anger, but when she tightened her grip and the man whimpered to them to back off, they stepped away.
‘Now, then, lovey, what d’you say? One little word and tha might still be able to use it. Otherwise …’ She squeezed again and grinned when he squealed.
‘Sorry! I’m bleedin’ sorry! Leave go!’
She released him and he fell to his knees. As his friends crowded around him, she readjusted her dress and walked away. Within seconds, she’d dissolved into the misty night. She smiled as the men’s heavy footsteps, shouts and curses filled the air. The maze of dark alleys and passageways swallowed a body in the blink of an eye; they wouldn’t get to exact revenge for their friend.
Her lip curled in distaste. No one disrespected her and got away with it. No one. That sorry excuse she’d left snivelling in the gutter, and many she’d encountered over the years, didn’t have a clue. They didn’t know how to treat a woman, nor satisfy one. Not like the man she was meeting. Now he knew how to show a lass a good time. Her skin tingled in anticipation. No man would ever match up to him.
Turning into Deansgate, she quickened her step. She patted the package beneath the folds of her skirts and smiled, knowing he’d be pleased. It was getting harder to sneak away the gifts but she’d continue to. Keeping her man happy was all that mattered. For him, she’d do anything.
Upon reaching the familiar meeting place, she smoothed her hair with shaking hands. Then, taking a deep breath, she slipped inside Nellie’s inn.
Her gaze immediately went to the dim recess and at the sight of the slumped figure, her heart leapt. She sat on the hard bench with a giggle. ‘By, I’ve missed thee summat rotten.’
Nursing a tankard, eyebrows knotted in a black frown, Joseph ignored the hand she tried to place in his and downed the rest of his ale. He slammed the tankard on to the plain-topped table and she jumped to her feet.
‘I’ll fetch you another.’
As she reached for the empty jar, he grabbed her wrist. ‘Leave that and sit down.’
‘But I want one meself. I’ll not be—’
‘I said leave the bugger!’
Flinching, she lowered herself beside him. ‘What’s wrong? Is it summat I’ve done? Did I keep thee waiting? Sorry if I did, lad. It were that daft daughter of my neighbour’s again. Seven sharp, I told her to come round to keep an eye on t’ children but she—’
‘You don’t half bore the liver out of me at times. No wonder that husband of yourn snuffed it years ago; you probably bored the bugger to death. Shut tha mouth for one minute and listen. There’s summat I want you to do.’
Swallowing the pain his words brought, she produced the package, desperate to please him. ‘I’ve fetched you this, love, and I paid your rent.’ She placed the meat on the table then ran a hand up his chest. ‘Now, what d’you want my help with? Just say the word, lad. I’ll do owt you want, you know that.’
‘Shift your hand, for Christ’s sake. You’re like a bitch on heat.’
The sharp slap brought tears to her eyes. She held up her hands. ‘All right, I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t try me, girl, for I’m not in no mood for it. I’ve had a bellyful today. Just sit there and shut your trap.’
She lowered her eyes to the earth-packed floor.
‘How long have we been meeting, now?’
His question surprised her. ‘Three or four months, in’t it, love? Aye, ’bout that, yeah.’ She nodded slowly, as though contemplating her answer, but knew exactly how long, down to the day. Their meetings were precious. As far as she was concerned, life held little meaning before them.
She’d first caught his eye at Ma Thompson’s when fetching a jug of ale for her father; she’d seen him once or twice in the row but they hadn’t spoken until that night. He’d remarked on her hair’s lovely colour and she’d blushed in delight, instantly drawn to the rugged miner.
Ten minutes later, she’d been on her hands and knees in a field with her skirts over her head. When Joseph, trousers around his ankles, collapsed across her back, she’d known he was the man for her. She’d never felt so wanted, fulfilled.
Their meetings continued at Nellie’s following the trouble at Spring Row, but she didn’t mind the tramp to Deansgate. She’d walk to earth’s ends to be with him.
‘Aye. Suppose it is a few months.’ He shot her a sidelong glance. ‘You said you’d do owt I wanted just now, didn’t you?’ At her eager nod, he added, ‘I’ve had a right day of it. Our Alice’s lass spotted Sally this morning in t’ market.’
Her stomach lurched. She knew it! Ivy’s face, earlier, had said it all; she knew she’d been right! She also knew, however, that Joseph couldn’t know. If he discovered she’d suspected Sally of leaving hours ago and did nothing, he’d … Well, Lord knew. She wasn’t taking any chances.
‘That right, lad?’
‘Well, the lass fair described her exactly but … Oh, I don’t know.’ His tankard rattled as he banged the tabletop. ‘Either that gormless cow’s mistaken or Sally’s cleverer than I thought.’
‘Why, were it not her, then?’
‘I don’t know, do I? That’s what I’m trying to tell you,’ he snapped. ‘I pelted down to the train station and questioned the master, and he said he’d had a run-in with someone what sounded like her, but—’
‘Station? I thought the young ’un saw her in t’ market?’ Her words melted when he turned slowly to face her. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Ignore me, love.’
Nostrils flared, he ground out, ‘He said it sounded like her but that she’d had a ruddy great dog with her; attacked him, it did, by all accounts. We’ve never had no mutt.
‘I were all for forgetting the whole thing till I spoke to Bailey, earlier. Said he’d seen her not long since with that owd bitch from next door to us, on her way to catch the carrier’s cart. She told him some cock and bull tale of how she were going to our Alice’s to beg my forgiveness.’
Nancy’s excitement mounted but she kept her voice even. ‘Did you ask him if it were right? George Turner, I mean.’
‘Well, of course I did. The varmint looked me straight in t’ eye and swore blind he’d not seen hide nor hair of her.’ He rubbed his stubbled chin. ‘I don’t know what’s afoot, if she’s still at Spring Row or no, but believe me, I’ll find out.’
When he lapsed into silence, she stared into the depths of the open fire beside them. If Sally had gone – and pray God she has, she inwardly pleaded – Joseph would be hers. She didn’t know his wife but from what he’d said, she sounded like a right uppity little bitch. He clearly didn’t care a fig for her – he’d proven that by asking Nancy back to his cottage on their first meeting, even though his wife was home, she recalled with amusement.
Though tempted, she’d suggested the nearest farmer’s field. Her father’s cottage had been too close for comfort. The old man might get on her nerves at times but when all was said and done, she loved the bugger and wouldn’t do anything to bring shame upon him if she could help it.
Nancy picked her words carefully. ‘Would it matter if she has scarpered, for you said yourself she means nowt to thee? Lord, the bitch had been thieving off you, hadn’t she? Aye, from what you’ve told me, you’re well shot of her.’
Why he’d even married the girl was a mystery. She’d questioned him months ago but he’d become angry and told her to keep her snout out.
It didn’t matter, now, she thought happily. With her out of the picture, he’ll finally be mine for the taking.
When he didn’t respond, she ran tentative fingers along his strong jaw and down his neck. Emboldened when he didn’t slap her away, she slipped her hand inside his shirt and stroked his thick chest hair.
‘So long as you have me, you’ll never need another woman,’ she purred. She leaned in, pressed her breasts against him and circled his earlobe with her tongue. Her heart swelled when her skirts lifted. He squeezed the inside of her thigh and she moaned.
‘I’ll kill her when I get my hands on her. They’ll get what’s coming to them, an’ all. Harbouring that whore’s going to cost them,’ he growled against her lips.
‘Who, the Morgans?’
‘Aye.’ Wrenching down her dress, he buried his face in her breasts. He drew an erect nipple into his mouth then rolled and flicked his tongue over the glistening peak. When he raised his head, his next words were thick with menace: ‘And you’re going to help me.’