The Libertine (Taskill Witches 2)

The knot in her chest tightened again.

“You have changed me, my precious lover.” He cupped her face in his hands. “The time we spent together has made me crave more. I want you, Chloris. I want all of you, forever.”

Her lips parted and she went to respond, to deny him, but his mouth covered hers in a possessive kiss, claiming her completely. Her body pulsed with need. She acted on instinct, her hands moving up around his head, her fingers tangling in his thick hair. With her emotions so raw, she could only welcome him, running her tongue along the underside of his. There was no doubt their desire was mutual. She wanted him, too.

His words made her realize that everything she felt was too much, too dangerous. It was the tears that made it impossible to deny him though, the nature of what had passed between them in anger and regret only making her want him all the more.

She pulled back, swallowing hard as she looked up at him.

Could she trust him? Could she trust her instincts?

Not where he was concerned. Lennox was a forbidden pleasure for her, and he was dangerous. He could easily weave a tall tale and make promises that his magic would make the stars fall at her feet. She feared her desire for him would blind her to the reality of her existence. But today she had gone home, and she’d opened her eyes to everything—to the truth of the past, the reality of her future. “It cannot be.”

“It can. I do not want you to hide anything from me ever again.” He gestured at her nightgown. “Let me see you.”

It was a command.

The look in his eyes made her wonder if he was working magic on her. But no, he needed to see, and she was shocked to discover that she was compelled to show him, to reveal her shame to someone who cared for her in some way.

Her fingers trembled as she went to the silk bow that held her thin nightgown in place around her shoulders. As she undid it and let it fall away, he surprised her once more by capturing the fabric before it fell from her breasts. Holding it in place there, he stepped behind her to examine her exposed back.

Chloris expected her shame to deepen. Instead she found herself distracted by sensations—the sheer lawn cotton gathered around the curve of her hips, embracing her. The heat of his body so close to hers. His scent, so familiar, so redolent with his power. With his hand covering her chest as it was, her breasts ached for more contact. Was this his doing? Was it simply his presence, or was he seducing her by magic?

Chloris did not care. She leaned into his touch.

With his fingertips he touched the uppermost of her scars.

She arched her back in response.

He traced the lines, and warmth traveled into the places he touched. Not just the heat of his fingers—more than that—and it seeped as deep as her bones.

Was he using magic on her? Trembling, she clutched her nightdress over her chest where it was sliding away because he had loosed it. “Lennox, what are you doing?”

“Hush.” His warm breath stirred over her bare shoulder. “Trust me, I am healing you.”

She tried to respond but couldn’t, for the sensation was too intense. Her body arched under his touch, for it was as if he had opened the wounds. “Lennox!”

“Forgive me.” He withdrew his fingers. “I can feel it, every ounce of pain, and yet I am compelled to seek it out and quell it because I cannot abide the fact it was done to you.”

The room crackled with his vitality just as it had when he had first performed his rituals on her. The fire leaped in the hearth. A warm draft of air raced around them—a draft carrying with it the scent of a laden orchard and ripe berries. Heat like a candle flame licked her back.

The state of her skin altered, the tightness that she always felt there easing. More than that, something deeper occurred, for it felt as if he drew the very experience of being beaten to the surface, before taking it away from her.

Chloris felt the tears come when memories of the beating flashed within her mind, shocking her. She had foolishly questioned Gavin on some minor matter. His mood had not been good and he’d fast become enraged. He’d hit her before that night, but on this occasion he’d taken a strap to her, a sturdy length of stable leather.

The first crack had floored her, but he did not stop there. Before he was done, she had fainted away from the pain. She saw herself lying there, where he left her, and then that image, too, was pulled from her memory. She’d crawled to her bed. Or at least, she thought she had. When she tried to remember what had happened it was suddenly vague, as if it had happened to someone else, someone she cared about.

Lennox kissed the back of her shoulder. Then lower, across her back, as if he needed to be certain of his own magic. His kisses entranced her, making her back feel warm and supple, shooing the badness and shame that she had carried there for so long.

She swayed, for she felt as if she might faint away entirely.

“Chloris,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Come, sit down.”

He guided her to the edge of the bed, where she sank down gratefully.

Her body shivered, not with cold, pain or fear, but with sensual pleasure and relief. He truly had unburdened her.

It was only after she had recuperated somewhat that she realized he was no longer close by. Chloris lifted her head, seeking him out. He was facing away, pacing back and forth, close to the fireplace. As she looked at him her chest swelled, for his actions meant so much to her. Not because of what he had done, but why. He had wanted to ease her suffering. She had not even asked him to do so. However, as she looked at him she also saw the turmoil in his expression.