Page 2 of Fallen
Bile rose in her throat, and she swallowed hard.
It’s time. I’ll not suffer this life any longer.
Moving stiffly, for each step pained her, she walked to a corner of the chamber and pushed back the heavy curtain, to reveal a wash bowl and a collection of kirtles hanging against the stone wall. The gowns mocked her, like brightly colored butterflies.
She got to keep little of the coin she earned atThe Goat and Goose, but Maude, the woman who ran this place, liked her lasses to be dressed well. The brothel had a reputation, and the old woman wanted her whores to do her proud.
Coira flushed hot then, and she thought of how she would have liked to take an iron poker to Maude as well as MacKinnon. The woman knew what a beast he was, but she didn’t care. In the three years Coira had worked in this place, Maude had never shown her the slightest softness, sympathy, or consideration. She was merely a body, to be sold for silver.
Her feelings didn’t matter.
The desire to reach out, tear those kirtles down, and rip them to shreds with her bare hands flooded through Coira. However, she fought the urge.
Now wasn’t the time for revenge. She had to get out of here.
She hobbled over to the wash basin and cleaned herself as quickly as she could manage. All the while, her teeth ground with pain. The water came away bloodied, but she preferred not to examine what MacKinnon had done. There would be time for that later. Once she had washed, Coira reached for a dun-brown léine and the plainest of all the kirtles—a gown of jade green. She donned the léine first, an ankle length tunic that fell softly over her bruised body. The kirtle went on next, lacing up over her aching breasts. It hurt to pull on her leather ankle boots, but she would need them for what lay ahead.
Finally dressed, Coira then sank to her knees in the corner of the alcove. Using the handle of her hairbrush, she pried up a loose floorboard. Underneath was all the wealth she possessed. Three years of awful work, and only four silver pennies shone dully up at her.
But it was better than nothing.
Amongst the pennies, something else gleamed: a small silver ring, tarnished with age. Coira’s throat thickened at the sight of the item of jewelry; it was the only link she now had with her parents. The ring had belonged to her mother, and Coira would have worn it if she wasn’t afraid of Maude. The woman was worse than a magpie.
Coira reached down and picked up the ring, her vision blurring as memories of her mother surfaced. She’d been so wise and strong—and taken too young. Coira slid the ring upon her right hand, her fingers curling into a fist.
Today, she’d remember her mother as she took back her freedom.
Retrieving the pennies, Coira replaced the floorboard and rose to her feet. She then took a heavy woolen cloak from its peg behind the door and left the bed-chamber.
It was a loathsome place, for although it was her home, and where she slept each night, the room had never been Coira’s sanctuary. It was the place where men used her—day in, day out. Sometimes it felt as if the walls were closing in.
Out on the landing, Coira paused a moment. Three other closed doors surrounded her, and behind the nearest one, she could hear a man’s groans as he took his pleasure, followed by a woman’s giggle.
Coira’s throat closed. She never wanted to hear those sounds again.
On trembling limbs, she descended the rickety wooden staircase. Her bed-chamber lay upon the top floor of the brothel, and she passed two other levels on the way down to the common room. On the way there, she heard further sounds of coupling—cries, grunts, and groans. The noises, which had been commonplace for so long now, made her pulse race once more.The Goat and Goosewould forever haunt her nightmares.
Maude was downstairs, presiding over the busy common room. A few men reclined in chairs around the fire, tankards in hand. A girl, not yet old enough to service customers, circled the room with a jug of ale, while an older lass perched on one of the men’s knees.
Hot male gazes raked over Coira as she stepped onto the sawdust strewn floor.
“Where do ye think ye are going, lassie?” Maude barked. A portly woman with a florid face, Maude’s low-cut kirtle showed off a fleshy cleavage. She’d once worked as a whore in her younger years, but these days the woman ran this brothel. Maude had a mane of thick blonde hair, now laced with silver, and small, sharp green eyes that missed nothing. That jade gaze narrowed now as it swept over Coira’s cloaked form. “I have another customer for ye.”
Maude motioned toward a hulking man in the corner who was watching Coira with a hungry stare. A chill slithered down Coira’s spine, and suddenly it was difficult to breathe, difficult to swallow.
I have to get out of here.
Meeting Maude’s gaze, she forced herself to speak calmly. “I’ve just seen MacKinnon.” Coira paused there, her gaze holding the older woman’s. Maude knew that she was in no fit state to see other customers directly after the clan-chief had visited her. She hoped she wouldn’t need to spell it out, especially in front of the common room full of men. A squeal intruded then, as the whore wriggled on a customer’s lap. Her name was Greer, a foolish goose of a girl who had only recently joined the brothel. The man had a hand down the front of her kirtle and was groping roughly.
Coira’s legs started to tremble then, and she was glad that the long skirts and cloak hid her fear.
“I’m off to see the herb-wife,” she continued, “for a poultice.”
Maude’s mouth thinned, her eyes narrowing further. Coira thought that she might refuse her, that her lust for silver would be too great. But then she gave Coira a brisk nod. “Hurry up then. As ye can see, we’re run off our feet this morning.”
Coira nodded back, relief crashing over her. All she cared about was getting out.
A biting wind gusted down the fetid alley outside the brothel. It bit into the exposed skin of Coira’s face and dug through the layers of clothing she wore. Glancing up at the sky, she noted that that it was grey and stormy. Bad weather was on its way. It wasn’t a good day to travel, but she would do so nonetheless.
