His raised hand trembled, but it trembled with rage. He spoke through gritted teeth. “Get to your chamber and prepare to receive me.”
“I have already stated my feelings on that matter. Go to your mistress instead.” Before he had a chance to reply Chloris turned and left the room.
She darted up the stairs and dismissed the upstairs maid quickly, eager to be alone. Once the girl was gone, she bolted the door to her chamber. Under normal circumstances it remained open at all times, except for when Gavin came to her bed.
It would only hold him back for so long, but it was all she could do.
The dark furnishings in the room made the place feel bleak, bleaker than it had been before. As she undressed and pulled on her nightgown she looked into the fire and wished herself far away. She blew out the candles in the wall sconces and took a lone candlestick to the bedside table. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the door. She knew he would come, and he did.
Within the hour he rattled the door handle.
It was only a matter of time before she would have to receive him. But not tonight, not with the fury he had on him.
When she did not answer he pounded the door with his fist.
Chloris wrapped her arms around herself, rocking slightly to and fro, afraid that he would batter down the door. Mercifully, he did not.
She heard him cursing and then his footsteps thundered down the stairs.
“To your mistress’s bed,” she whispered.
And please, please let her fall pregnant.
Despite her silent prayer, the cold hard truth of the matter reared in her mind. If Gavin could not father a child, and his mistress was his alone, this purgatory could go on indefinitely. She crawled into the bed and pulled the covers over herself. It was not cold. The fire in the grate was well stoked and burned low and steady. Nevertheless, she shivered because the images Gavin had forced into her mind brought no comfort.
In the morning she would begin her quest to find employment. She would query her friends. She was well educated and could perhaps find work as a governess. An acquaintance had recently taken on a teacher for her children. The teacher was a widow woman fallen on hard times. Could she find a similar position? There had to be a way to escape this marriage and build a humble, honest life for herself.
An honest life. That’s what Lennox had called it. She had been living a lie, thinking wrongly that appearances, vows and loyalty mattered.
Watching the candle flicker and grow faint, she let her mind drift away from the hell that promised to lie ahead and instead let her memories dance into the flame, back to that first night in Torquil House, when Lennox’s touch had brought fire into her body.
He’d encouraged her body to blossom, like the flowers opening to the sun. And he was her sun, the passion he had unleashed in her was nothing compared to what followed. As her eyes grew damp, she closed them. She said his name, over and over in her mind, led by instinct. For some reason, it calmed her. She pictured him taking off her glove that first night and wished that she not been married. Then, if he had asked to run away with him as he had, she could have done so without moral doubt or recourse.
One thing she knew with full certainty, there would never be any man in her heart, for she gravitated to him and him alone now.
Even if she never saw him again, her heart would always be his.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Tamhas Keavey’s horse reared up, almost dislodging him from his saddle. He held tight to the reins, cursing as he was forced to counterbalance his weight against the rise of the horse. When its front hooves landed with a thump, the horse backed up, neighing loudly and tossing its head. Below the animal’s hooves Tamhas caught sight of a glimmer of light in the mud. Tamhas glanced left and right, but could see nothing on the ground.
“They have laid traps,” he shouted back over his shoulder. “It is their evil spells. We will find a way to get past.”
He ground his teeth together, furious with the situation. It had taken him a long while to convince the bailiff and the prominent members of the council to agree to this plan. He’d had to bring in the minister to speak about the evil ways of those who practiced witchcraft. Resistance was higher than he expected, many claiming Lennox Fingal was a decent man, a man who had brought new custom to the burgh. Others said that the practice of hanging and burning was unchristian in itself. One man had even gone so far as to say that the law about witchcraft would be changed, stating that there would be shame about what had gone on during the time of the witch trials and it would cast a shadow on Scottish history. Another had openly admitted he had sought them out to treat his gout. He described the simple herbs that a young woman had offered him. They were ground up and made into a liquor for him to sip, and he said that helped purify his blood and cure his condition. Others were most impressed by his tale.
They were fools, the
lot of them.
Three of Tamhas’s men had already been dislodged from their horses along the route, and now it seemed he, too, struggled to get near the accursed place. Tamhas could see the house through the trees, though, candlelight glinting in the window even though it was daylight. Behind him he could hear whispers of concern, the men exchanging their thoughts on the matter, but Tamhas ignored them, determined not to let a little bit of the Devil’s trickery stop him from delivering these heathens to justice. He yanked on the reins and forced his mount to move away from the troubled spot, skirting several tall trees as he attempted to lead the men to their destination.
When they finally forged a path close to the clearing in front of the house, Tamhas saw that the door stood open. The inhabitants were gone. The candles in the window burned low, as if they had been left there all night. His chance to bring them to justice had gone, too. “Damn them all to hell. That is where they belong.”
The bailiff drew his horse alongside Tamhas, then turned back to shout instructions to the gathered men. “Secure your mounts at the forest edge. We may need to examine the tracks that have been left here.”
Tamhas looked down at the clearing. The ground had been heavily churned, and recently, the tracks of several large carts heading out by the looks of it. Frustrated, he dropped from his horse. He ventured up the steps and pushed the door wide-open.
“Traps might have been set,” a man called out.