The Libertine (10 page)

Witches.
She covered her eyes with
her hands, but it only took her back to the moment when he had pulled off her
glove that first evening, and touched her palm. Thirty years old she was and
weary of life, and that simple action on his part had been the most pleasurable,
most sensuous thing she had ever experienced. She became vulnerable to him from
that moment on and she knew it. She was greatly at risk of falling further under
his influence. And she knew his kind were wild.

They had few boundaries when it came to pleasures of the flesh
and he had not denied that when she confronted him about it. That was why their
knowledge of such things was substantial. It made her want to turn away, to
protect her reputation.

What reputation? It was shortly to be destroyed, along with any
air of respectability, when her husband threw her out of their home for failing
to bring him a child. To successfully carry her husband’s child was the nature
of her quest. A quest that she had undertaken in desperation after failing to
provide him with an heir.

It was their forbidden carnal knowledge and its inherent
virility that she had gone there for. There was little doubt she had been well
prepared. The rituals she had undergone had left her as supple, willing and
eager as a spring sapling. Surely now she could bear her husband’s child? If not
now, it would be never.

She picked up her quill.

My time in Fife has brought me robust
health and I feel our dreams will be fulfilled soon.

She paused.

Why don’t you take a lover?
Lennox’s words echoed through her mind, as they had ever since he had said
them.

She was compelled to consider them over again, like some
fascination that she could not separate herself from. Why hadn’t she taken a
lover before? Why had she done so now? She thought herself a loyal wife, despite
the difficulties she had survived under Gavin’s will and rule. There had been
opportunities to take a lover in Edinburgh. Several female acquaintances had
suggested it to her, in pity, and two men had even offered their services. Her
female friends had informed her that women often did so when no child had been
forthcoming from the marital bed. It was a chance some women took to redeem
themselves. The idea had never been attractive to Chloris before. Not until she
met Lennox Fingal.

“Begging your pardon, mistress.”

Chloris started in her seat, sitting bolt upright. Turning, she
saw that Maura was standing just a few paces away. Chloris had been so far away
in her thoughts that she had not even heard the girl enter the room. “Maura,
good day.”

“Mistress.” Maura bobbed a curtsy, then came closer and lowered
her voice. “Did you find Somerled?”

Chloris smiled at the young woman. She was a sweet girl with
hair the color of chestnuts and freckles over her cheeks. “I did. Thank you,
Maura. Your directions were most helpful.”

“I hope they were as good to you as they were to me.” Maura
ducked her head. “My malady has all but vanished since I went up there.”

Chloris did not know what Maura’s malady was, but the girl’s
positive comment made Chloris cling to the hope that she, too, would be affected
by the magic rituals she had undergone. “That is very promising.”

They stared at one another, both curious about each other’s
malady, but divided by class and privilege. They did not ask nor share. It had
only been a moment’s madness that had inspired Chloris to interrupt Maura’s
whispered discussion with another servant about the goings-on up at the house in
the woods. She’d happened upon the two in the library and found herself
compelled to listen to the discussion about magic and possibility.

“Would you do something for me, Maura?”

“Of course, mistress, if I am able.” There was a slightly wary
look in her eyes.

“I need someone to take this letter to the master at Somerled.
Can you do it for me?”

Maura looked at the folded page and nodded, apparently relieved
that it was something she was able to do. She accepted the letter and tucked it
into the pocket of her apron.

“Thank you, you’re a good girl.” Reaching across the desk
Chloris picked up the leather pouch she kept her coins in and opened it.
Retrieving several coins she pressed them into Maura’s hand. “Here, take
this.”

“No, mistress, I cannot. If the master finds me with money he
will think I have stolen it.” Maura glanced back over her shoulder at the
doorway.

“Then tuck the coins in your undergarments and be quick about
it. It is but a small thank-you for taking me into your confidence. I know you
were afraid when I quizzed you about your discussion.”

Maura lifted up her skirts and tucked the coins into a pocket
stitched into her petticoat. Not a moment too soon. Her skirts dropped into
place just as the door was flung open and Tamhas entered the room.

Both women tensed.

Chloris acted quickly. “Thank you, Maura, you may go about your
chores.”

Maura bobbed a curtsy and scurried off.

Tamhas stood in silence for a moment, observing his cousin.

Chloris shifted the items on her writing box, and then smiled
his way. “Your hearings have gone well this morning, cousin?”

“Well enough.” He made his way over to her, glancing down at
the page she was writing on as he passed behind her. For a moment he stared out
of the window at the gardens, and then he turned to her. “Jean has expressed
concern. She tells me that you went riding alone early in the morning
yesterday.” He assessed her as he spoke.

Chloris maintained her poise, but his questioning made her
uneasy. “I found it most reviving. The spring air seems to improve my
health.”

And the Witch Master
. Why, oh, why
could she not stop the thoughts spilling within her mind, images of the magical,
passionate encounters that were making her health more robust.

He considered her at length. “You do look well, quite
rosy-cheeked, in fact.”

The reason for the bloom in her was his lingering magic and
passion, for she still felt Lennox’s hands on her, molding her to him as they
coupled in the bluebell glen.

“Thank you, Tamhas. I am grateful that you allowed me to visit
at this time.” Her voice faltered as she spoke. She hoped he would not notice
her state of agitation.

Tamhas moved closer and perched on the desk where she was
working. This had the unfortunate circumstance of bringing his torso far too
close for comfort.

“I wondered if Jean’s fortuitous news might be an upsetting
matter for you.”

Chloris was in the process of moving her chair back slightly
when he made the comment, and jolted to a standstill, staring at him aghast.
“Why, no, I am delighted for her. Despite the fact I have not been able to bear
children myself, as yet, it does not mean that I resent others who have found it
easier.”

Tamhas nodded, vaguely, and then he studied her figure at
length as if he might determine the cause for her lack of fertility. His mouth
moved into a rather lascivious smile. “Perhaps I can be of assistance?”

Chloris swallowed. His meaning was quite obvious, and it
shocked her to the core. Tamhas was forthright, and he had made lewd enough
suggestions to her before, when she was a young girl and his ward. That was when
they were both unmarried, however, and over time she had dismissed his
flirtatious approach as the jest of a young man. A man who found himself with
wealth and power before he had developed the maturity to manage it.

Chloris attempted an appropriate response. “You are being of
assistance, allowing me this time of recuperation here at Torquil House.”

“Come now, Chloris. Don’t be coy. You know I have always found
you an attractive woman, and a fine mistress you would have made for this
house.” A flicker of annoyance showed in his expression for a moment, forcing
her to acknowledge his deeper motives. “I have sired three children with my wife
now, and there are many more out there who could call me father.”

“I’m not sure you should be sharing such information with me,
especially when I am growing close to Jean.”

Tamhas shrugged one shoulder. “Jean is content.” Again he
studied her, his gaze lingering around her bosom. “I could make you content,
too. In fact,” he added, “I’d put money on you accepting my seed well
enough.”

Instinctively Chloris turned her face away from him, but he
only seemed to see it as an opportunity to reach out and grasp her hand, making
a physical connection with her that she did not want. He squeezed her hand,
forcing her to look back at him.

“I have made an offer, consider it well, cousin.” The look in
his eyes was cold. He was irritated because she had not immediately capitulated.
“You might have better luck with a different lover. Most women in your situation
would grasp any opportunity to fall pregnant. You are thirty years old and your
husband will soon be seeking a more fruitful union elsewhere.”

Chloris was well aware of the truth in what he was saying to
her, but still she smarted. It was not only that he was saying it aloud, it was
his coldness in delivering the information. It also suddenly seemed as if
everyone in the world was privy to her secret failures. Not only that but they
were all too willing to comment freely on it, and that was not easy for her.
With Lennox she had been compelled to open herself to him, but she had not
invited this discussion with Tamhas. It made her even more wary of Tamhas than
she already was.

“It would be better that such a union be with a well-to-do,
upstanding man,” Tamhas continued, “someone who has your best interests at
heart.”

Upstanding?
What upstanding man
would make such a suggestion under the very roof he shared with his wife?

It was difficult not to point out she understood him better
than he realized. Tamhas could not afford to have her turned out or wandering in
mind or body. She had been Tamhas’s ward until she turned marriageable age and
she had been a canny investment for him. Her inheritance was substantial and
what there was he split with her husband at the time of the marriage, and he
still had an obligation to Gavin. No doubt he had been paid well by her husband
to keep her away from Edinburgh for a period of time, and to return her in good
health and ready to bear him a son. If Tamhas was to secretly father her child
it merely secured her position as Gavin’s wife and therefore secured his
dealings with Gavin.

Chloris had never felt more alone.

* * *

“Lennox, a letter has arrived for you.” Ailsa stood in
the arched entrance of the old barns. Sunset was close and Lennox was toiling
hard with the other men in the fading light, building the framework for a
covered carriage. Since Master MacDougal had praised their talents and he had
been given access to the council, several requests for their craftsmanship had
already been received. Despite Keavey’s attempts to thwart him, and the delay
for the guild, he had already begun to gain favor.

Lennox wiped his brow and set down his tools before striding
over to take the letter from her. He examined the seal. He did not recognize it.
“Who brought it?”

“Maura Dunbar carried it from the Keavey house.”

When he did not respond, Ailsa gave a labored sigh. “It will be
from that Mistress Chloris, seeking you and your magic I don’t doubt.”

Ailsa had a sour look about her and Lennox thought twice about
opening it immediately. “The men are still hard at work and will be until
darkness falls. Will you bring them some ale?”

Ailsa scowled at him, folded her arms across her chest, but
nevertheless turned on her heel and headed toward the house.

Lennox broke the seal on the letter and read the contents
quickly.

It was indeed from Mistress Chloris, and he frowned heavily
when he read her words. Undue concern had haunted him all day long, after she
had not arrived in the forest as planned. His goal was to irritate Tamhas
Keavey. Why then did he find himself fretting over Chloris, wondering what had
happened to her? Eventually he had to assume she was waylaid on her plans for a
morning ride and had to abandon it. Nevertheless, Lennox found himself concerned
for her safety, which shouldn’t have been the case.

Now that he saw the real reason for her absence, Lennox found
himself even more troubled by it. The more he thought on it, the more troubled
he became. He wanted her again. The woman had got into his blood and he would
not rest until he’d explored her at length. It was not the usual way of it, and
he battled the urge to storm up to Torquil House and demand she reconsider.

What nonsense is this?
he wondered.
The woman had dismissed him. In all likelihood, that was the end of it.

Then he recalled the moment he saw the fear at the back of her
eyes, and it had halted him in his tracks. Despite the fact she tried to hide
it, she was vulnerable. Was she afraid now? Had someone made her send this note?
Lennox could scarcely bear the thought of it.
It is because
of my lost sisters,
he thought. If any man saw that fear in their
eyes, he only hoped they would act on it, discover its cause and protect
them.

Battling his confused motives, he shoved the note in his
pocket.

When Ailsa returned with a flagon of ale for the men, he
scarcely acknowledged her. His mood turned dark. It wasn’t meant to end yet. In
his blood, he knew that.

Such selfish motives could easily lead him into reckless
behavior, and he could not shrug off the doubts he had about his own judgment.
Nevertheless, after another hour’s work, he gave in to his instincts. When the
men went inside for supper, Lennox went to the stable instead, saddled his horse
and took the moonlit path across the glen to Torquil House.

For whatever reason, he could not fight the need to see the
woman again.