The Libertine (Taskill Witches 2)

Staring at the gardens with unseeing eyes, she considered her position. She had come here to Saint Andrews for a reprieve. That was all it was, in truth. A reprieve from Gavin’s torments, so that she could return and face it with more tenacity, willing herself all the while to fulfill her obligations to him. Gavin had suggested it, she was not sure why, but she had grasped the chance for time to heal, to breathe. But distance had only made her more aware of her pitiful existence.

When she’d gone to Somerled she’d hoped for help. The wildest hope had been for some miracle, the more realistic hope had been for some sage advice—perhaps a whispered method of holding her husband’s seed inside her long enough that it would bed and flourish. Instead she’d been set on a different, unknown path, and now Chloris felt as if a closed door had been flung open to her, a door she had not even been aware of before.

It does not mean it is right.

No. She was at risk of being disloyal again, and she was dabbling in matters that she did not fully understand, matters that most God-fearing folk would turn away from in fear. Other women had been ruined by him. She knew that now but still she could not force the desire away. Was it hope, foolhardiness or sheer contrariness that pushed her to it?

Witches. She covered her eyes with her hands, but it only took her back to the moment when he had pulled off her glove that first evening, and touched her palm. Thirty years old she was and weary of life, and that simple action on his part had been the most pleasurable, most sensuous thing she had ever experienced. She became vulnerable to him from that moment on and she knew it. She was greatly at risk of falling further under his influence. And she knew his kind were wild.

They had few boundaries when it came to pleasures of the flesh and he had not denied that when she confronted him about it. That was why their knowledge of such things was substantial. It made her want to turn away, to protect her reputation.

What reputation? It was shortly to be destroyed, along with any air of respectability, when her husband threw her out of their home for failing to bring him a child. To successfully carry her husband’s child was the nature of her quest. A quest that she had undertaken in desperation after failing to provide him with an heir.

It was their forbidden carnal knowledge and its inherent virility that she had gone there for. There was little doubt she had been well prepared. The rituals she had undergone had left her as supple, willing and eager as a spring sapling. Surely now she could bear her husband’s child? If not now, it would be never.

She picked up her quill.

My time in Fife has brought me robust health and I feel our dreams will be fulfilled soon.

She paused.

Why don’t you take a lover? Lennox’s words echoed through her mind, as they had ever since he had said them.

She was compelled to consider them over again, like some fascination that she could not separate herself from. Why hadn’t she taken a lover before? Why had she done so now? She thought herself a loyal wife, despite the difficulties she had survived under Gavin’s will and rule. There had been opportunities to take a lover in Edinburgh. Several female acquaintances had suggested it to her, in pity, and two men had even offered their services. Her female friends had informed her that women often did so when no child had been forthcoming from the marital bed. It was a chance some women took to redeem themselves. The idea had never been attractive to Chloris before. Not until she met Lennox Fingal.

“Begging your pardon, mistress.”

Chloris started in her seat, sitting bolt upright. Turning, she saw that Maura was standing just a few paces away. Chloris had been so far away in her thoughts that she had not even heard the girl enter the room. “Maura, good day.”

“Mistress.” Maura bobbed a curtsy, then came closer and lowered her voice. “Did you find Somerled?”

Chloris smiled at the young woman. She was a sweet girl with hair the color of chestnuts and freckles over her cheeks. “I did. Thank you, Maura. Your directions were most helpful.”

“I hope they were as good to you as they were to me.” Maura ducked her head. “My malady has all but vanished since I went up there.”

Chloris did not know what Maura’s malady was, but the girl’s positive comment made Chloris cling to the hope that she, too, would be affected by the magic rituals she had undergone. “That is very promising.”

They stared at one another, both curious about each other’s malady, but divided by class and privilege. They did not ask nor share. It had only been a moment’s madness that had inspired Chloris to interrupt Maura’s whispered discussion with another servant about the goings-on up at the house in the woods. She’d happened upon the two in the library and found herself compelled to listen to the discussion about magic and possibility.

“Would you do something for me, Maura?”

“Of course, mistress, if I am able.” There was a slightly wary look in her eyes.

“I need someone to take this letter to the master at Somerled. Can you do it for me?”

Maura looked at the folded page and nodded, apparently relieved that it was something she was able to do. She accepted the letter and tucked it into the pocket of her apron.

“Thank you, you’re a good girl.” Reaching across the desk Chloris picked up the leather pouch she kept her coins in and opened it. Retrieving several coins she pressed them into Maura’s hand. “Here, take this.”

“No, mistress, I cannot. If the master finds me with money he will think I have stolen it.” Maura glanced back over her shoulder at the doorway.

“Then tuck the coins in your undergarments and be quick about it. It is but a small thank-you for taking me into your confidence. I know you were afraid when I quizzed you about your discussion.”

Maura lifted up her skirts and tucked the coins into a pocket stitched into her petticoat. Not a moment too soon. Her skirts dropped into place just as the door was flung open and Tamhas entered the room.

Both women

tensed.