The Libertine (Taskill Witches 2)

Chloris paused and looked back over her shoulder. “Yes?”

Mary’s cheeks flamed as red as her hair. “There is someone with him,” Mary said, and nodded her head down the hall, “in there.”

It was the girl’s discomfort and her sympathetic glance that made Chloris realize what she was trying to convey. Gavin was entertaining a visitor. Quickly, she assessed the potential situation. If it was a friend or associate Mary might have warned her, but not with such a fretful stance. It was something potentially more upsetting and fraught.

Chloris wondered on it. She had to inform him she was here. She steeled her nerves, strengthened her resolve. Chloris was home, but she was not the same Chloris as before. “Thank you for your concern, Mary. You’re a good girl.”

When she nodded and smiled, Mary scuttled away as if relieved to be gone.

Chloris continued on to the study. She was about to knock, but thought better of it. Turning the handle, she opened the door. The sight that greeted her should have shocked her. It would have done several weeks earlier, but now it did not.

Gavin was there, and he was not alone.

The woman was facedown over his desk, her skirts pushed up to her waist, her ample buttocks on display. Gavin stood behind her, breeches around his knees, one hand pressing the woman to the desk at the small of her back. With the other hand he guided his erection into her.

Gavin’s face was contorted, his eyes all but closed, and he did not see or hear the door open. For the woman it was a different story. Her face was turned on one side and facing the door while she was pressed to the desk. Her abundant brown hair was loose, her breasts out and crushed against the papers there. She was an attractive woman, with dark and dramatic looks, and her eyes flickered with uncertainty when she saw Chloris standing there.

Chloris wondered if the woman knew who she was, and suspected she did.

The woman lifted her head as if she was about to say something, when Gavin grunted heavily at her rear. Before the woman had a chance to announce the intruder, Chloris stepped out and closed the door quietly behind her.

She felt strangely calm.

This was why Gavin had sent her away. Not for her health or to visit with her relatives, but so that he could bring his mistress into their home. She had known he had a mistress, but he had been reasonable about it and kept the woman in rented chambers in another part of the burgh.

Chloris had never seen him with another woman. But now she had, and it did not touch her. At one time it might have reinforced the futility of her existence—a sham of a wife with no children, a woman who had brought finance, but nothing else. Now it only served to show her that she had been right to grasp the few hours of happiness that she’d had with Lennox. That had kindled a flame in her. He’d made her different, for he had brought out the deep, essential part of her, and that would never be fully submerged again. Above all her sense of calmness on the matter solidified her plans to take action.

Gavin wanted his mistress installed in their home.

Chloris could give him the freedom to do that.

* * *

The following day Lennox crossed the Tay back into Fife. By the time he rode across the land toward Somerled, evening was closing in. He was weary, having not slept at his lodgings in Dundee the night before, but he did not want to rest. Dark clouds hovered over h

im, an immense sense of foreboding building all around.

And he longed for Chloris.

The need to continue the hunt for Jessie was also fierce. He had to assure Chloris that his plans for them to be together had not altered. At dawn he would begin again. Getting so close to Jessie had given him hope, knowing that she was still alive and had so narrowly escaped trial and persecution. The truth of it was that she could disappear completely again, afraid for her life. Wherever she’d gone, staying hidden was crucial. Despite the fact he wanted to find her, he hoped no one else would. Least of all those death-hungry witch hunters. Please, let her be safe.

Who was her cohort, the man who had set her free? Lennox could only pray it was one of their kind, someone who would continue to shelter and protect her. Tomorrow he would encourage his people to seek word of Jessie on this side of the Tay.

However, as he skirted Saint Andrews and drew close to the place where he’d made his home, the sense of foreboding he felt multiplied, and fast. Something was amiss. He felt it—he felt his coven reaching out for him, urging him to return quickly.

Troubled, he pressed on at a pace.

That’s when he felt magic rise from the ground. Beneath the horse’s hooves a spell had been set. Shadow huffed on the evening air and tension rose from the beast. Glancing across the landscape Lennox sensed it was one of many such warding spells, designed to keep enemies at bay. He passed through, however. For whom had these boundary spells been set? His already troubled thoughts were stirred afresh. Something was badly wrong.

“Nearly home, boy.” Shadow’s flesh shivered when Lennox stroked his neck. The horse did not falter on the familiar path, but there was a sense of fear and urgency building in the air around them and the beast sensed it, too.

When he got closer to the house, he saw candlelight flickering in the windows. Glenna and Ailsa always set them out to guide him home when he was away. However, this time it was not only so that he could see his way. The candles were many and they lit the area in front of the house, where he could see figures moving. They were going in and out of the house, carrying goods. Glenna, Lachlan, Ailsa and the rest. The largest cart they owned was at the steps, the one they only used to bring wood and goods for the carriage making. Two of the younger men were busy covering the contents over with blankets and tying them down with ropes.

Lennox leaped down from his mount even while he approached, and urged Shadow to the trough. Glenna saw him and made her way over.

“What has occurred?”

“I am so glad to see you.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “I feared you would not return in time.” Her breathing was labored from her exertions. “It is Keavey. When Ailsa took your letter up there he caught her.”