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“I don’t know what you mean,” she muttered, thinking it was hard to hear him past her racing heart. She didn’t want trouble. Didn’t want to make him angry.
“I mean, I’ll pay for tonight, but I only wanted to see you. To tell you that today was…” His big hand rose in a feeble wave. “It was nice.”
Nice? That was what he’d come to say? Tears burned her eyes. Relief kept her heart beating fast for a few moments before it settled down.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry again,” he whispered. “Melisande.” When she closed her eyes, his hand cupped her cheek and wiped her tears away. “Do you want me to go?”
“No. No, I just… You don’t have to pretend you don’t want sex.”
“I’m not pretending any such thing. I want you. Badly.”
“I don’t understand. You can have me.”
“I don’t want to buy you. And if you get pregnant…”
“I can’t,” she said.
“Can’t what?”
“Have babies. Not since I was fourteen. I had one taken out of me and it took months for the bleeding to stop. I’ve never caught since.”
He nodded and scrubbed a hand over his face. “It just doesn’t feel right. Not like this. You’re on my mind every day. I wonder if you’re well, if you’re happy. Laugh if you want.”
“Why would I laugh?” she whispered. She had to duck her head then, because she couldn’t control the tears. She didn’t know why she was crying now any more than she had earlier, but Bill pulled her to his chest and held her. Again.
“I’m just a whore,” she whispered into his chest. His heat seeped through their layers of clothing and into her skin. He gathered her up and took her to the ugly cushioned chair that sat in the corner of her room farthest from the window. The fabric was stained and faded, so she kept it as far from the light as possible. But she was thankful for the chair today when Bill settled her onto his lap and let her curl close to him.
“That ain’t true,?
?? he said. “You’re not just a whore.”
“How would you know? It’s all I’ve ever been. All I’ve been since I was thirteen. Maybe even since I was born.”
His hand stroked down her back, and she wished he’d let her take her corset off so she could feel his fingers slide along her spine. “Were you a whore today at church? Or sitting next to the river? Or eating that gingerbread faster than I did?”
Her laugh surprised her, hiccupping out between tears.
“Were you a whore when you took me to bed today?” This question was less certain, the words low and careful.
She shook her head. “No.” That was the truth. “It wasn’t like that.”
His mouth brushed softly over the crown of her head. “Have you never had a beau?”
“Never.”
“Would you have me?”
Melisande sat up, pulling back so she could look into his deep brown eyes. “How can you see me that way?”
She’d heard other whores speak of sweethearts, but she’d assumed those men were only out for free goods. Some of the women even had husbands, but those men must have been long gone for their women to find work in a brothel. Melisande had never considered the possibility of a relationship at all.
“My da’ run off when I was six,” Bill said. “Or maybe someone knifed him on the docks and tossed him in the water. Whatever happened, he never did come home. All us boys were put to work, and my mother did whatever she could to make money. I think whoring was the only thing she didn’t do, but there were plenty of women on our block who did. The same women who took me in on cold days and fed me a scrap of bread and hot tea along with their own kids. I never saw any difference in them. They worked the same as us all. Kept their kids from starving.”
“But you wouldn’t…I mean, you didn’t love them.”
“They were a sight older than me,” he said wryly.
Melisande laughed again and let herself settle back against his chest. She felt safe with him. Cared for. How was she supposed to say no to that? “When could I see you if you won’t come here?”
