The Libertine (Taskill Witches 2)

The light was behind his head and the shadows made his features appear even more dramatic. Chloris felt light-headed and found herself unable to do anything other than stare up at him.

“Come, we’ll go deeper into the forest.” His voice was low, and he moved his hand to the small of her back, encouraging her to move.

That touch made her feel self-aware. Her feet were strangely leaden as if she were unable to step out. She looked back for her horse. The mare was grazing.

“She has found a sweet patch of grass,” he said. “She won’t wander.”

Chloris stared at him. How could he be sure? Was he that in tune with their surroundings? Then he smiled at her, and she believed.

Mustering herself, she returned his smile and stepped alongside him.

“It is a good time,” he said, looking up at the canopy of leaves overhead. “The sunlight will fall across a patch of bluebells soon, yonder.” He nodded his head deeper into the woods.

Something about the way he spoke made her feel his deep bond with the place. How strange it was, when he could so easily appear to be a fine, cultured gentleman. Now, here in the wilds, he seemed even more at ease.

His lip curled at one corner. “I believe it is the perfect place for you to blossom.”

Blossom. Yes, I believe I will.

“Fear not, Mistress Chloris. I will look after you.” He reached out and lifted her gloved hand to his lips. Even through the kid leather she felt his heat.

The smell of fern and blossom intensified.

Affected by his concern for her rather than his charm, she felt disarmed. He spoke in such persuasive tones, and when he met her gaze it was with certainty and reassurance. Chloris believed he truly wanted her to flourish in that way. It struck her that he took pride in his task, despite his outlandish and forbidden nature.

As he led the way, he took her hand. “The path is uneven, allow me to guide you.”

With her hand in his, her senses heightened. The twitter of the birds in the branches overhead seemed more musical, more resonant. The smell of the undergrowth became even more intense. It was him, she realized. His craft, his magic. She was all but seeing through his eyes. It was startling. Her determination to remain levelheaded was slipping away. I’m falling under his spell.

When he looked her way, the steady warmth he conveyed only confirmed it.

“There.” He gestured beyond.

Between the trees she saw it, a hidden glen, the floor of which was covered in bluebells. The glen was sheltered, the breeze only shifting the highest leaves overhead. Sunlight glinted through the leaves and dappled across the flowers. It made the ground seem almost as if it was a moving, living, breathing thing. Chloris was awestruck by the sight. “Oh, Master Lennox, it truly is a beautiful place.”

“Please, my given name will suffice.”

“Lennox,” she whispered, enjoying the implied intimacy.

“Are you ready?”

She nodded, breathless with anticipation. If her experience was anything like the night before and it happened here in this beautiful place, so hidden and precious, she knew instinctively that it would be magical.

He led her again, through the bluebells to the very center of the carpeted spot. Her riding skirt was tugged by the thick foliage, and as they carved a narrow path through the blooms the scent permeated the air around them, stimulating her to inhale deeply.

When Lennox drew to a halt, he touched her on the shoulders to still her. Then he began to chant in that secret language of his, moving around her while she stood still.

Chloris blinked, swept up quickly into the moment.

The more he stepped around her, the more bound up in him and his strange chant she became. The stir of the breeze through the treetops sounded louder, too, as did the distant birdsong. The scent of the flowers grew stronger and the moss grew denser, and her pulse raced, her skin tingling with excitement. This time she did not fight it, she embraced it.

Vitality plumed inside her, rising like a vapor to warm every part of her.

Losing herself, she looked up through the canopy of leaves and felt the sun on her face. Sinking and rising all at once, she felt as if she had joined with the forest around her and breathed as one with it. Then she felt his fingers in her hair, loosing it.

Lennox. Craving him, desire beat an urgent rhythm in her blood.

His eyes were bright and lust-filled. She stared up at him, transfixed. It had affected him, too, she could see that. Trembling wildly she clutched at his shirt. Her knees went weak under her. She faltered. Lennox caught her in his arms.