The Libertine (Taskill Witches 2)

Lennox paused. “There hasn’t been a chance for me to thank you. I appreciate everything you have done, for me and Chloris, and for Jessie.”

“Jessie was my savior. I would do anything for her.”

“I see that now.”

Lennox clasped the other man around the shoulder before turning back to the inn. The wariness between the two men had begun to fade after the events in Edinburgh, but this gesture was necessary and overdue.

The inn was crowded and raucous and it made Lennox wonder if they would have any rooms available, but luck was on their side once more and the landlord showed him two well-furnished rooms that he rented for the night. Requesting hot meals be served as soon as possible, he returned to the carriage.

A stable hand was already beside it. He had the door open and had put a wooden box beneath the carriage door for Chloris to step out upon. Immediately, Lennox felt possessive, protective. But it never had been any different. Once he’d had a taste of her he’d always felt that way. It was just that he now acknowledged it. She had forced him to embrace honesty, love and yes—it had brought greater power to his magic.

Chloris stepped out onto the box. One look at her face in the half light of dusk assured him that it would never be any different, he would always love this woman. He would accept his fate to be with her gladly, and with gratitude.

The stable hand was encouraging Chloris to jump across the muddy path to the stepping stones beyond. But from the doorway of the carriage he heard Jessie. She intervened, stumbling down from the carriage and assisting Chloris herself, instead of allowing the stable hand to do so.

Jessie shooed the stable boy away. “Take care, this woman is with child and must be treated gently.”

With child? Lennox faltered.

He stared across at the woman he loved, and as he did he saw it in her smile. How could I not have known? Too busy he’d been claiming her for himself, to see what was there—and that which he would have spotted immediately had his emotions not been so entangled. Chloris was carrying his child.

Sharp pleasure and then confusion overcame him. How was it that Jessie knew when he did not? Women’s ways. He was transported back in time to when their mother would round them up in the woods, and chastize young Jessie for her fae ways and her lack of fear or caution when it came to hiding her true nature. She was close to nature and sensed and sourced its most creative elements. She would have known instantly. Chloris, his precious love, was carrying his child.

Tearing his attention away from Chloris—which was doubly difficult now that he knew—he attempted to take in all that this meant. Kin, even more than he had imagined. His long search for his kin had resulted in so much, he felt blessed by nature, rewarded for surviving the hardships.

Jessie had dismissed the stable hand and now assisted Chloris, holding both her hands and smiling at her as they followed the stepping-stone path. Then Chloris met his gaze. For a long moment they stared at one another, and then Chloris drew her fingers to her mouth, her eyes misting.

He closed the gap between them in four strides and hugged her to him.

“I see by your expression that you heard what Jessie said?”

“Is it really true?”

She looked up at him. “I think so. I had my suspicions, but Jessie here said she knew.”

“Let me look at you,” he demanded as they drew apart, holding her at arm’s length to study her again.

Lennox could tell that she was quelling her excitement, and yet all he could think of was wrapping her in a blanket and cherishing her. “You seem radiant and robust, but we must look after you well.”

“You do look after me well.” She beamed. “This is your doing.” Laugher escaped her. “I meant the magic and the fertility, not the other...” Her cheeks flamed.

Her amusement triggered his own. “As I pointed out to you at the outset, I’m not entirely convinced the magic was needed, but I was very happy to assist with the other, as well.”

Gregor emerged from the stables and waved his hand.

Together, the four of them went inside the inn.

“Where are we?” Chloris asked as they walked.

“Well on our way. We should reach Inverness within three days.”

Inside, the crowd gathered in the inn showed little interest in them, which suited Lennox well. They were on a well-traveled route north now, having veered off it to begin with, in case they were followed. The inn was likely a busy passing point for strangers on the road. Soon, however, he would not have to double think everything they did, for soon they would be in the Highlands.

The landlord led them to a private dining room where tankards of ale and dishes of steaming stew had been put out on a rickety table. It was a simple but happy gathering, and Lennox kept his woman beside him, constantly reaching for her hand and staring into her eyes to reassure himself that this truly had come to pass.

After they had eaten, the landlord’s wife brought a bottle of Port and stoked the fire. The conversation turned to their escape from Edinburgh.

“I warrant we are no longer welcome in the Lowlands after that show you put on,” Gregor said. There was grudging admiration in his eyes.