Virgins: An Outlander Novella by Diana Gabaldon Read Free Book Online Page B

arse a loud smack, open-handed. “Nobody says no to me!” He’d got his cock out now, in his hand, and shoved it into the woman with a violence that made her hurdies wobble and knotted Ian from knees to neck.
    “Merde,”
Jamie said, still under his breath. Other men and a couple of women had come out into the yard and were gathered round with the others, enjoying the spectacle as Mathieu set to work in a businesslike manner. He let go of the woman’s hair in order to grasp her by the hips, and her head hung down, hair hiding her face. She grunted with each thrust, panting bad words that made the onlookers laugh.
    Ian was shocked—and shocked as much at his own arousal as at what Mathieu was doing. He’d not seen open coupling before, only the heaving and giggling of things happening under a blanket, now and then a wee flash of pale flesh. This…He ought to look away, he knew that fine. But he didn’t.
    Jamie took in a breath, but no telling whether he meant to say something. Mathieu threw back his big head and howled like a wolf, and the watchers all cheered. Then his face convulsed, gapped teeth showing in a grin like a skull’s, and he made a noise like a pig gives out when you knock it clean on the head and collapsed on top of the whore.
    The whore squirmed out from under his bulk, abusing him roundly. Ian understood what she was saying now and would have been shocked anew if he’d had any capacity for being shocked left. She hopped up, evidently not hurt, and kicked Mathieu in the ribs once, then twice, but having no shoes on, she didn’t hurt him. She reached for the purse still tied at his waist, stuck her hand in, and grabbed a handful of coins, then kicked him once more for luck and stomped off into the house, holding up the neck of her shift. Mathieu lay sprawled on the ground, his breeks around his thighs, laughing and wheezing.
    Ian heard Jamie swallow and realized he was still gripping Jamie’s arm. Jamie didn’t seem to have noticed. Ian let go. His face was burning all the way down to the middle of his chest, and he didn’t think it was just torchlight on Jamie’s face, either.
    “Let’s…go someplace else,” he said.
    —
    “I wish we’d…done something,” Jamie blurted. They hadn’t spoken at all after leaving
Le
Poulet Gai.
They’d walked clear to the other end of the street and down a side alley, eventually coming to rest in a small tavern, fairly quiet. Juanito and Raoul were there, dicing with some locals, but gave Ian and Jamie no more than a glance.
    “I dinna see what we
could
have done,” Ian said reasonably. “I mean, we could maybe have taken on Mathieu together and got off with only bein’ maimed. But ye ken it would ha’ started a kebbie-lebbie, wi’ all the others there.” He hesitated and gave Jamie a quick glance before returning his gaze to his cup. “And…she
was
a whore. I mean, she wasna a—”
    “I ken what ye mean.” Jamie cut him off. “Aye, ye’re right. And she did go with the man, to start. God knows what he did to make her take against him, but there’s likely plenty to choose from. I wish—ah, feck it. D’ye want something to eat?”
    Ian shook his head. The barmaid brought them a jug of wine, glanced at them, and dismissed them as negligible. It was rough wine that took the skin off the insides of your mouth, but it had a decent taste to it, under the resin fumes, and wasn’t too much watered. Jamie drank deep and faster than he generally did; he was uneasy in his skin, prickling and irritable, and wanted the feeling to go away.
    There were a few women in the place, not many. Jamie had to think that whoring maybe wasn’t a profitable business, wretched as most of the poor creatures looked, raddled and half toothless. Maybe it wore them down, having to…He turned away from the thought and, finding the jug empty, waved to the barmaid for another.
    Juanito gave a joyful whoop and said something in Ladino. Looking in that direction, Jamie