“Oh, I had not realized.” Chloris was set on it, but she had hoped it would be done that night. She could not risk her hosts discovering her actions. Doubts assailed her. What if the nature of his ritual was disturbing to her? Would she be able to continue?
“Trust me, Mistress Chloris.” His eyes glinted. “The power we invoke is only that which is around us at all times, the cycle of the seasons, the power of nature to flourish and multiply. I will call upon the spirit of spring, when the land is most fertile, and I will draw her vitality into you.”
His words alone made her feel aroused. She had never heard such things, and his knowledge was compelling. As was his presence.
“I must, however, warn you. If we were outside, the magical forces I engender would dissipate into the air around us, but here, in this space, it may linger.”
Breathlessly, she queried his meaning. “Linger?”
“You may feel...stimulated.” His gaze covered her, as if he relished the idea of seeing it. “I thought it fair to warn you.”
Chloris was fairly sure he could tell she was already stimulated. Was he teasing her with his warning? Objection parted her lips, but before she had a chance to speak he turned away and removed his coat.
Chloris stared, disbelievingly, as he slung it over a nearby chair, revealing broad shoulders under the fine linen of his shirt. He wore no waistcoat, and the shirt fell from his shoulders loosely. When he turned to face her again Chloris attempted to avert her eyes. She could not. His powerful chest was exposed through the soft material—the opening at his neck showing bare skin. She glanced beyond him, at the door, dreading what might happen if he was discovered here.
“You are cautious,” he commented, “which I can understand. You are a proud woman, but I sense you are mistrustful, too, for some reason.”
“Oh. I—”
“For the ritual to take hold, you must believe, you must trust.”
“It is not you that I am mistrustful of.” She shook her head quickly. “Forgive me. I am wary because I am afraid for both of us, meeting here. My host would not approve. Perhaps I should not have let you come.”
“Fear not.” He smiled, and that smile seemed to warm her from the inside, comforting her deeply.
“I am truly grateful for your efforts.” She lowered her eyelids, wishing she had not said that much. She’d blurted out her thoughts because she did not want him to leave.
Stepping closer, until he was right against her, he put his head to one side. “May I remove your pearls?”
Startled, her hand went to her throat, where she wore a triple strand of pearls that had belonged to her mother. Pearls were not as fashionable as they had been in her mother’s time, but she often wore them in order to be close to her mother.
“Allow me.” He eased her hand away and then stroked his own around the back of her neck, paddling his fingers against the catch.
Her chin lifted. She couldn’t help it. His touch was subtle yet so invigorating, like nothing she had ever experienced before.
When her head fell back he gazed down at her exposed neck and the swell of her bosom. He was so blatant. He looked at her indolently and without censure, apparently without concern for manners and the fact that she was a married woman. Nevertheless, she had agreed to this, to whatever contact he would have to make, and the consequences of that contact would just have to be endured. And there were consequences. She felt the tension building inside her all the while, and the air around them seemed heavy with desire, making her feel even more self-aware and shameful.
His gaze sharpened. “Turn your head to the side.”
When she looked away, he pressed harder at the back of her neck and the collar at her throat clicked open. When the choker slipped from its place he gathered it in his hand. But his hand remained at the back of her neck, the choker gathered in his fist. “Unfettered, that is much better.”
As he took his hand away, he ran the back of one knuckle the length of her throat. “You are very beautiful.”
She knew she ought to question his actions and ask what would happen next, for then s
he would be prepared. But she was unable to.
“If it were up to me,” he added in a low suggestive tone, his gaze devouring her, “I would have you completely unfettered, naked and glorious.”
Chloris gasped.
He put a finger to her lips, silencing her objection.
“Forgive me. I cannot help admiring you. You are a desirable woman, and I am a man, after all.” His mouth pursed in a sensual smile.
A man? Why did that suddenly seem so much more dangerous than him being a witch?
He removed the shawl she had around her shoulders, dropping it onto the ground nearby. “Open your heart and mind to me.”