The Libertine (Taskill Witches 2)

Scotland was on the cusp of immense change. He felt it, but he could not clearly discern its direction. There was some resistance building to the persecution of witches. That gave him hope. But how long until the change came, and would people like Tamhas Keavey ever accept it? His coven was eager to find the safe haven, and they trusted him. What of his sisters? If they were al

ive would they have headed north, too, homeward bound? No word had come from Fingal, so Lennox had to assume they were still lost to him and the Taskill family.

They would be nineteen now, young women. How he longed to know what had become of them. Every few weeks he traveled the land, whenever he heard mention of strange goings-on, whispers about witchcraft and women who were gifted. He sensed that his sisters may not have had the opportunity to hide themselves in the community and live a life where they could conceal their craft, or to use it to help others.

He thought on it while he guided his horse through the woodlands toward the bluebell glen. Looking across the landscape he ached for stability, for kin. A woman like Chloris in his bed every night? Yes, that, too.

She was waiting for him, which chased away the darkest of the memories, if only for a while. He climbed down from his saddle and let Shadow roam free.

As Lennox approached, he gazed at her. Even though her eyes were wide and she was nervous, her inner strength drew him—everything about her called on him, and it was an intoxicating and unique experience.

The way her hair was pinned close to her head immediately made him want to pull it free of the lace cap that held it there, in order to watch as it fell over her shoulders. Her pale blue gown was simple, and yet everything about it emphasized her softness, her vulnerability. The stiff bodice was hard and unyielding, which only drew his gaze to the swell of her bosom at its edge. Her skirts were not overly full, unlike some of the wealthy women in Saint Andrews, but the folds gathered below the waist served to emphasize her elegance, her womanly poise. The lace at her cuffs drew his attention to her wrists, and then he noticed how she clasped and unclasped her fingers as he grew close. She was eager for him.

She smiled his way as he approached.

“You grow more beautiful with each passing day.”

“And you grow ever more charming, but I am wise to your wily ways.” Her smile was teasing.

“It is the truth.”

“You have made me happy,” she added.

“I am pleased to know that.”

“I believe your rituals have brought it about.”

“As they are meant to.”

“I do not refer only to the changes in my...womanly state,” she said, blushing endearingly, “but in other ways, too.” Her eyes took on a distant look, as if she were thinking.

“How so?”

“My memories of my family...they used to be dark and unhappy, tied as they were to the end days when the illness came. More recently I think of the happy times, before then.” She lifted one shoulder. “I do not understand why, but it is a good thing and I thank you for that.”

He found her comments pleased him, unaccountably so. He did not like to think of her having only dark memories about her loved ones. He knew that state far too well. Craving her, he took her into his arms and kissed her.

Her hands roving his chest beneath his jacket instantly roused him. When her fingers brushed his bare skin where his shirt was open at the neck, he put his finger under her chin and looked down into her eyes. “Come, let me undress you. It is warm today and I have longed to hold you in my arms naked, skin to skin.”

“No.” Her expression altered. “Someone might pass.”

“No one ever passes by.”

“I do not wish to undress.”

He cocked his head to one side. “That does not bode well.”

“Why ever not?” Chloris shifted one foot, nudging a rock with her booted toe.

He was teasing her, they both knew that, but still he wondered about her hesitance. “Because my magic and our encounters have emboldened you as a woman, as a lover, and yet you will not be brave enough to undress before me.”

“But I am emboldened.”

Lennox responded by folding his arms across his chest and offering her an expectant smile.

“I can engage with you,” she insisted, “and I enjoy everything we have shared.”

“I would hope so, but how emboldened are you?”