The Jezebel (Taskill Witches 3)

l’s work, and questioned the fact Adam had fallen silent, despite his earlier bellowing.

A leaden weight settled in her belly. Some of Roderick’s men suspected her actions and her motives.

Maisie’s first reaction was to counter it by magic. That would be even more dangerous, for she was not sure which of them or how many had seen her.

Tying her bundle tightly, she gripped it in one hand, and lifted her skirts in the other as she made her way through the crowded quarters. She lowered her head so that she did not draw attention or meet anyone’s gaze.

The risks were there, but she had done her best to cleverly conceal her magic. If they ousted her now she might never complete her journey to the Highlands. Still, she did not regret it. It was unfortunate, but she couldn’t have left Adam that way.

Whatever they did to her, she would endure it. It was better than being Cyrus Lafayette’s instrument of power. Once she’d learned his true nature, and what he was really capable of, she knew there could be no worse fate.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The day that Maisie Taskill traded her virginity for passage aboard the Libertas would forever be etched in her memory. It had begun badly, and grew more frightening and regret-filled as every moment passed.

Cyrus had entered her bedchamber that morning while the maid was still dressing her hair. He had done so several times since Mama Beth’s illness kept her confined to her bed, and he did not even knock or have his visit announced. “Good morning, Margaret, my precious beauty.”

Suspicion and fear roared in on her, filling her senses. He was circling ever closer, like a bird of prey getting ready to swoop.

“Cyrus.” She inclined her head. She had already begun to think of herself as Maisie Taskill again and not Margaret Lafayette, and that helped her, giving her something to cling to that was nothing of his.

He stood behind her, admiring her refection in the looking glass. “Put on your best gown tonight. The one with the gemmed bodice that becomes you so well. We’ll be attending the opera. I wish to show you off.”

He wove his fingers into her hair and drew some of it to his face, breathing it in.

Maisie glanced over in order to see the maid’s reaction. The girl looked startled. Even she saw it. Master Cyrus was no longer treating Miss Margaret as a daughter, but as a potential consort. Even while his wife lay ill in her bed and close to death he was ready to begin a new life with Margaret as his companion.

Maisie forced herself to keep still, when what she really wanted to do was turn on him and push him away. It was important, however, that his suspicions were not aroused while she decided what to do. “Shouldn’t I stay at home tonight, with Mama Beth so unwell? The physician informed me she is very ill indeed.”

His mouth twitched. “She would not want you to miss this opportunity. Lord Armitage himself has invited us to join him in his private theater box.”

Maisie inclined her head, but all she felt was a sense of foreboding, one that was so strong she knew she would have to act upon it and do her utmost to discover the truth.

“Cyrus,” she said, and met his gaze. “What will become of me if Mama Beth passes on?”

It was a weighted question, for she had begged him to allow her to use healing magic on his wife, and he’d refused. His mouth lifted at one corner. He beckoned for the maid to leave, and then leaned over her, whispering, “You will be everything that we have dreamed of, and more. Your mightiest powers will unfold and we will wield them together, for pleasure and benefit.”

Her heartbeat faltered. It was all true. The suspicions that had grown over the past months were warranted. He’d stated his intentions quite clearly, and there was no denying it now.

“I will make you my own,” he continued. “Forever. My queen and my wife.”

Maisie’s heart turned to stone. Wife? She’d already gleaned his nefarious aims and his lust for her, but had never once thought he meant to marry her. What of Beth?

He bent and kissed her bare neck, as if he couldn’t resist doing so now that the subject had been so thoroughly broached. His mouth on her skin repelled her. It seemed like such a betrayal.

Dare she use her magic against him? Would it even work, given his role in her life? Maisie couldn’t be sure. She didn’t feel powerful enough to thwart him that way, because he knew so much about witchcraft. What she did feel was his lust, pent up and dark, both fiercely carnal and greedy for power, and her need to run from him grew desperate. Soon. If she made him suspicious he would have her more closely guarded. She was already aware that he had her every move watched and noted. Averting suspicion was paramount. Instead of flinching, she clung to the edge of the dresser with her fingertips and forced a smile.

“I will be with Lord Armitage until the opera begins. I’ll have a carriage readied to bring you directly to The King’s Theatre, where you will be escorted to our box when you give your name.”

“Thank you, Cyrus.”

He seemed content with that and left.

Maisie didn’t move from that spot until she heard the sound of movement outside the building. The familiar shout the coachman used to urge the horses on indicated Cyrus had left in his carriage. Then she rose and went directly to Mama Beth’s chambers.

Requesting some private time with Mistress Beth, she assured the two servants and the nurse who currently cared for the mistress of the house that she would call for them if they were needed. Once they departed, Maisie entered the bedchamber and walked quickly to the bedside. She’d spent many hours there in recent weeks, but she’d kept a bright mood and hopeful spirit, relating the household events and other such chatter in order to help Mama Beth feel content, and enable her to fight the illness. This time she had to be bold and ask questions, questions that might otherwise never be answered. It felt selfish and harsh, but at the same time Maisie knew she must. If Mama Beth was distressed by the discussion, Maisie would wipe the memory away with magic.

She was so pale, drawn and frail in her bed that it was hard to bear witness. Maisie loved this woman who had been so generous and kind to her. Guilt weighed heavily on her, too, guilt for Cyrus’s shift in affections over the years.