The Libertine (Taskill Witches 2)

Once the boys had been taken away by their nursemaid, Jean cleared her throat. “Husband, cousin, I have some news to share.”

Both Chloris and Tamhas looked her way.

“The midwife has confirmed it. I am with child once more. A girl, I hope.”

Tamhas patted her hand. “Another son would be better.”

“Oh, Tamhas, have pity on me. I need a daughter. Otherwise I will be an old woman alone in a house full of men.”

Tamhas mumbled incoherently.

Chloris watched the exchange as if from above or beyond, and for a moment forgot her place. When Jean looked her way expectantly, smiling as she did, Chloris nodded. “That is wonderful news, you are much blessed.”

Shortly afterward Tamhas went to his study to receive the tenants who were due to call on him that day. Once he had gone, Jean pushed back her chair.

“I hope my news does not upset you, cousin.” Jean rose from her seat and skirted the table. She pulled Tamhas’s abandoned chair closer to Chloris and sat down by her side. “I am aware it might be a sensitive matter, given that you have no child of your own...as yet.”

Chloris shook her head. “It is joyous news, I am happy for you.”

“Thank you, cousin.” Jean rested her hand briefly on Chloris’s forearm.

Chloris was plagued by an altogether different question. While Jean chattered on about when the baby might be due to arrive, Chloris studied her. Had she succumbed to the Witch Master’s seductive ways? Is that why she was so fertile? The question refused to go away.

“Listen to me rattling on,” Jean said, “when I am sure you have more sensible things to occupy your time.”

Given Jean’s current loquaciousness, Chloris could not keep her curiosity in check. “No, I am interested in every detail. I am also curious, have you ever sought guidance on the subject of falling pregnant?”

Jean looked startled, then smiled. “Oh, I see why you might ask that. No, I have been lucky. You will be lucky, too, soon. God willing.”

Chloris noticed that her smile was somewhat trite. The curiosity still lingered. “Can I trust you with a delicate question?”

Jean nodded.

“The man who we saw in the market in Saint Andrews, the one who you said dabbles in witchcraft...”

Without hesitation, Jean answered. “Lennox Fingal.”

“Do you know if they, the witches, can influence a woman’s fertility?” It was not the question Chloris wanted to ask, but she was edging closer to it.

Jean studied her for a short while before responding. “You must not entertain such a notion. The man is dangerous.”

How curious. Yet Chloris knew Lennox had been in the house at Jean’s behest. Had he seduced her, too? “How can you be sure that he is dangerous?”

Jean stiffened.

“I am most eager to please Gavin, you see,” Chloris added, in explanation, “to provide him with an heir.”

Jean considered her comment then leaned closer as if she suspected her servants might overhear the conversation. “That is not the way. Lennox Fingal would prey upon your...womanly needs.”

A chill crept over Chloris. It was too close to what had actually happened.

“He would use you and taint you forever if you sought his help.”

For a moment Chloris was unable to speak, and then she forced herself on. “Has he done this to you?” When Jean flinched, she added quickly, “Or someone you know?”

Jeans lips tightened. “Thankfully not to me.” She sighed deeply. “I confess I came close to falling under his spell a long time ago, but his eyes were set on a much bigger prize.” There was bitterness in her response. That alone answered one question—Jean had wanted him, would have given herself to him, but it hadn’t happened.

“That woman, however,” Jean continued, “never regained her reputation after she was bedded by him. Nor did her husband for letting her stray.”