The Libertine (Taskill Witches 2)

Then he sought her mouth with his.

The tender kiss they shared was interrupted a moment later.

A noise sounded in the corridor outside the door. It was the boards creaking again, signaling someone’s approach. Chloris reacted, drawing him deeper into the shadows next to the head of the bed. Chloris had almost forgotten their surroundings, and the discussion had been heated earlier, their lovemaking fierce, perhaps too loud. Had they drawn attention to themselves?

Footsteps approached her door. She held her breath, one hand on Lennox’s chest, protectively, her eyes trained on the door. Then Lennox whispered something. The strange words made her look his way. His eyes went bright, then faded. He smiled softly and put one finger to her lips. “Stay quiet.”

There was a tap at the door. A moment later Jean entered the room. Her shoulders were shrouded in a heavy shawl and it hung down and covered most of her nightgown. She glanced over at the bed.

Chloris’s heart hammered in her chest. She recalled the way Jean had fussed over her at dinner. She was obviously still concerned. Chloris rued the fact she had not sent Lennox on his way as soon as they’d talked. They were going to be found. In a moment she would be discovered harboring the Witch Master in her room at night. Jean would call out for help, and Cousin Tamhas would find Lennox here.

Jean lifted the candlestick from the mantel and held it aloft as she looked toward the bed. Chloris dared not breathe. Jean replaced the candle, then turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

“She did not see us?”

“I made it so.”

Chloris realized the curtains around the bed had obscured Jean’s view. Jean must have assumed she was asleep and decided not to disturb her. But the curtains had been open before, she remembered it distinctly. “You obscured the bed by magic?”

“Aye, and cast us deeper in shadows. Although it is the first time I have used magic since I entered this room tonight.”

Chloris stared up at him. At first she thought he was clarifying about the earlier interruption, when he’d hidden in the shadows and she’d distracted the serving girl. Slowly, it dawned on her what he was saying. Magic had not played a part in their frantic lovemaking, only mutual desire. There was no ritual, no chanting, and yet it had been every bit as powerful an exchange as it had the day before in the bluebell glen. More so, in fact, because they came together with open, mutual longing, and because she could see his expression while they coupled.

He ran his fingers through her hair and smiled. “You seem surprised.”

“I am. When you made love to me I assumed it was...magical.” Her face flushed. She felt a little silly.

“It was magical, but only by virtue of the fact that we are well matched in both desire and appetite for each other.” After he said that, he stroked his fingers along her upturned face, looking at her for a long moment, as if he, too, was considering the import of that connection.

Chloris tried to take it in. They had come together for ritual magic, a task, and yet what had happened between them that night was driven by something entirely different, a mutual need that had to be fulfilled. Could it be true, or was this part of his seductive repertoire, a performance he delivered to any woman he wanted to bed awhile? She wanted to believe, but it was a difficult task, given all that she had been told.

For her own part she wanted him, she couldn’t deny that—couldn’t deny him when he’d come to her. Before Lennox she’d known no other lover aside from Gavin. Their couplings were cold and perfunctory, at best. She assumed a man such as Lennox experienced pleasure this way with any woman he chose to couple with, and that she was one of many he was well matched with. Yet the way he looked at her made her wonder as to his meaning.

Then he bent to kiss her. It was gentle this time, a confirmation, not a demand.

Chloris returned the kiss, wrapping her arms around his head when he held her to him, savoring his embrace. Never before had she experienced such bliss, and she wanted to claim every part of it.

“You must go, all is quiet now,” she insisted as they drew apart, her growing need to protect him taking over. “Promise me that you will not come here to the house again, it is too dangerous.”

“I will promise you that, if you promise to meet me at the old oak in the mornings instead.” He searched her expression as he awaited her response, and she felt the strength of his will. He wanted her to agree to the request.

Could she even begin to think about denying him? She would be denying her own desires, too, for her instinctive response was to agree. She wanted to meet with him again. She’d already broken her vows—just as her husband had done, long ago, when he took a mistress—and this was a source of happiness she had never imagined could be hers. She was also afraid, though, because the dislike Tamhas had for Lennox was so fierce, and Jean had made it clear that her husband was looking for a good reason to oust the witches who lived around Saint Andrews. Chloris did not want to put any of them in danger of that. If she met him in the forest, though, the risk would be much smaller. Would she be brave enough to claim a few more moments of happiness with Lennox while she was in Saint Andrews?

“Please, Chloris,” he murmured, “say you will.”

“Yes, I will.”

The tension in his expression vanished, and the smile he gave was broad and infectious. Chloris laughed softly then stood on her tiptoes and cupped his face in her hands in order to kiss his mouth. The swelling emotion in her chest should have made her fret, but it didn’t. Not then, not when he was holding her and it felt so right and true. The doubts wou

ld come later, she knew they would, but for now, she denied them.

CHAPTER TEN

Tamhas Keavey supped his ale and scowled at the doorway to the inn. It was well past the agreed meeting time and there was no sign of Master MacDougal. It was important that he wait, though. As head of the town council MacDougal was often called upon to adjudicate in urgent matters.

When MacDougal eventually arrived, Tamhas signaled for another jug of ale and rose to his feet.

“My apologies, friend.” MacDougal took his seat. “Affairs of the council take precedence over social time, I’m afraid.”