The Libertine (Taskill Witches 2)

Chloris felt comforted. Had he moved closer? His knees were pressed against her full skirts, but she had not been aware of him moving. “What do you mean when you say that, ‘old ways’?”

“Some call us pagans, heathen, because we believe in the power inherent in the natural world and we seek it in our rituals. Many Christians have benefited, and they will not speak out against us. However, they cannot defend us because they would be in danger of being called out themselves.” He shrugged. “We are forced to live a secretive existence.”

His tone had turned embittered, and Chloris felt he had shared something that was fundamental to his character. There was a brooding, almost angry look at the back of his eyes.

In a blink, it was gone.

He smiled, briefly. “Enough of that. We understand each other a little more now.” He inclined his head. “There are rituals that we undertake to increase both virility and fertility.” His gaze raked over her. “If you are willing I will perform the rituals myself, in order to help you.”

He was so close she felt the heat of his body, yet the whispered nature of their conversation suited her more than the blatant words he had delivered before. “What would these rituals entail?”

“I would need to lay my hands upon you.”

She knew by his expression that he meant more than holding her ungloved hand. Could she allow this compelling young man that liberty?

She needed to know more. “Why do you need to do that?”

“To evoke the essence of spring and direct it inside you.”

His whispered words affected her oddly. She felt suddenly hot, her limbs heavy.

His eyes burned more brightly. Was it the reflection of the glowing embers in the hearth?

“By drawing on the essence of something from the natural world we harness the gift of birth and rebirth.” He lifted his hand and opened it to her. It gleamed, as if he held sunlight right there in his palm.

Gasping aloud, she saw what he intended—to demonstrate. A moment later he spoke again, but his words made no sense. He repeated the phrase several times beneath his breath. Chloris could not look away, so intense was his gaze.

Heat swelled in the pit of her belly. Glancing down, she saw that he now held his palm open in front of her skirts. It was directly above

the spot where she burned, and when his hand moved and he whispered those strange words, the heat roiled and gathered within her. Her thighs shuddered, her core tingling.

It was so carnal a sensation and so utterly unexpected that she swayed and her head dropped back. I might faint.

Then he blew across the bare skin of her exposed neck. A gentle breath it was, and yet it felt like the wind through the trees to Chloris. Heavily scented, as if carrying blossoms like the one he had plucked from her hair.

Beneath her corset her chest felt constricted. Panic rushed in on her.

Recoiling, she whispered, “No. No, I cannot—”

“Hush.”

He stepped away, breaking the connection. When he looked back his eyes were normal once again. “Take your leave. Think on what has been said and done here.”

There was no doubt she would think on it, at length, if only she could get away and gather her faculties. She could scarcely function due to the wild throbbing in her loins.

Fumbling for the door handle, she could do no more than mumble her thanks to him in response, rendered speechless as she was by his demonstration of magical power.

Mercifully, the door clicked open.

“Mistress Chloris?”

With her breath captured in her chest, she forced herself to meet his eyes. “Yes?”

“You asked if I could trust you. My instinct told me yes, and once I had touched you...I knew without doubt that I could trust you. That’s why I took off your glove.”

That was why. Her palm tingled in response to his comment, and at the very same moment she knew that he was informing her of something much deeper than the issue of trust between them. What was it—that he could connect with her intimately that way, perhaps read her thoughts and gain the measure of her, by running his fingertips over her skin?

When she responded, she could hear the tremble in her own voice. “I see.”