The Libertine (Taskill Witches 2) - Page 10

Many of those he passed greeted him, which made it seem quite rude of Jean to move out of his path. Perhaps it was better that they had not encountered him directly, though, Chloris reflected, for she would not be able to acknowledge that she knew who he was.

As if aware of the scrutiny he turned his head her way.

His gaze locked on hers. He inclined his head.

Stumbling on the cobbles, she drew to a halt.

“Hold tight to me,” Jean advised. “The stones are uneven.”

Chloris could do no more than nod in response. From under her lashes she could see that the man continued to observe them, making no pretence about doing otherwise. His gaze flickered over them, as if he was eager to determine the nature of their friendship and the purpose of their outing. When he saw that Jean was guiding her away to the other side of the street while casting black looks back at him, his sensuous mouth moved. Apparently he was amused by that.

Inside her glove Chloris’s palm tingled. The sensitive skin there, where he had caressed her, seemed to be stimulated by a sensual memory at the sight of him. It was oddly seductive, and it made her senses rush. It also made her wish he was touching her again. Shocked at her own reaction

to the sight of the man, she asked herself how it could be. His nature, was that why? His curious powers and his wild ways? Flustered, she turned away, reminding herself that it was imperative Jean did not see her exchanging glances with the local Witch Master. However, his nearby presence and the nature of the situation meant she was quite unable to stop herself playing the innocent in order to question her cousin’s wife. “Who is it that we must avoid?”

“That man, Lennox Fingal. A questionable man if ever there was one.” Jean scowled.

Lennox. His name whispered around her mind. How well it suited him—strong, direct and memorable. She feigned confusion, hoping for more information. “Questionable?”

Jean leaned closer, lowering her voice. “They say he dabbles in witchcraft. There are a bunch of them around him and all are suspected of wrongdoings. Tamhas has been watching him.”

Chloris was not only startled by the vehemence with which Jean spoke, but also by the information she imparted. Tamhas was watching the man from the house in the forest? He’d often spoken out against witchcraft, and he’d been vehement about Eithne leaving, all those years ago. She hadn’t, however, been aware that he currently had suspicions about the people who met in the house in the forest. If she had known, she would never have ventured there. “He does not appear as I might have expected a witch to appear,” she said, giving her honest reaction.

“That is half the trickery. The man is a rogue, and even if it is not true about his evil ways...” She paused, and Chloris could see Jean wasn’t sure, or else didn’t want to believe it. “Even if it isn’t true, he lives a wild life up there in that house of his. He’s a handsome devil and many women are eager to be in his bed.”

Jean flushed and cleared her throat, as if stating the information would somehow tarnish her by association. Chloris had to suppress her amusement for she had the distinct feeling Jean wondered what it might be like to be in bed with a man such as Lennox.

“They say a woman is helpless under his spell, if he chooses to seduce her,” Jean said, blurting out the words. She wriggled her shoulders as if in distress, but Chloris noticed Jean kept glancing back for another look at him. “The shameless libertine,” she added, disapprovingly.

Chloris was not in a position to pass comment.

Across the shifting crowd Lennox lifted his hat and inclined his head at Jean, then at Chloris. His attention lingered on Chloris, and his gaze made her blood heat. He’s a handsome devil, and many women are eager to be in his bed. Jean had warned her, and those words stayed with her. It was wise that she’d left his house when she did. They say a woman is helpless under his spell, if he chooses to seduce her.

Nevertheless, Chloris couldn’t help herself, because this Lennox Fingal was now looking across the crowd at her and her alone, and it affected her oddly. He was staring into her eyes and beyond and she felt as if she should have been disturbed by that. For some reason she found her senses wildly aroused.

His eyes glittered oddly.

Beneath her clothing her skin grew hot. She felt restless, flooded by self-awareness as she was under his gaze.

Jean rattled on at her side, but Chloris could scarcely take the words in. “Just look at him, staring at us so rudely.”

He was indeed staring, pure, candid interest in his expression.

Chloris lowered her head, but she could not keep the smile from her lips, unbridled pleasure swelling in her. Then the crowded street seemed to grow busier still and a fearful noise sounded to their right-hand side. The dense crowd stopped moving.

Half a dozen chickens had escaped their coop and darted about in front of Jean, clucking loudly. Jean screeched, lifted her skirts and took flight, as if to pass by the chicken seller. When she did, she bumped against the owner of the chickens, who was trying to shoo them back toward their enclosure with one hand. In the chaos, Jean dislodged the basket of eggs the owner of the chickens had clasped in her other hand. The basket was dropped and several eggs were broken.

An argument broke out.

Chloris watched in dismay. Jean scolded the woman who was selling the eggs and refused to pay her for the broken ones, insisting that it was her fault for letting the chickens run free. The coachman was now at her side. Then the crowd thickened again and Chloris found herself isolated from her cousin’s wife by the flow of people, many of whom were gathering in front of her to observe the argument about the eggs.

That’s when she became aware of his stare, the man Jean had called Lennox, the Witch Master. He stood off to her left and he looked only at her, his smile lingering.

It struck her oddly. Did he have something to do with it? Surely not. But what if it were true about his abilities to effect change? She tried to shake the thought from her head, but as she stared at him in wonder she saw a remnant of that strange light flashing in his eyes. For the briefest moment it seemed as if those eyes of his were even more luminous, as if they reflected the sunlight itself. That couldn’t possibly be the case, for clouds flitted across the sun and his eyes were well shaded beneath his hat.

Chloris shivered.

Then it was gone.

Tags: Saskia Walker Taskill Witches Erotic
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