The Libertine (Taskill Witches 2)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Lennox dreamed of her that night as he had so many before, in those few hours before he rose at dawn to meet her in the forest. The dreams were pleasurable at first, purely carnal. Then an overwhelming feeling of despair filled him as her face swam before him at the moment when he shunned her. Her sense of pride had been raw and wounded after he revealed the scars on her back, her beautiful eyes full of betrayal and sadness.

Interleaved with that were more pleasant images, moments from their lovemaking. The memory that haunted his dreams the most was the way she looked up into his eyes as she offered herself again, her hands fisting against his chest. That precious moment when all her doubts had been cast aside, when nothing would hold her. Her voice whispered around his mind. You have made me know what it is like to be a woman—a woman fulfilled.

Lust surged in him. Tossing in his bed he fought the urge to wake fully, unwilling to break with the dream because he felt her hair brushing against his face and chest, and it was so soft, so real. Lennox wanted it to be so. He wanted to lie with her every night.

Her body pressed to his, and her soft lips on his mouth let loose his desire.

He reached out and clutched her to him, grabbing fistfuls of her hair and holding her close as the kiss took hold of him. Chloris. The urge to possess her wholly, to make her his and his alone, was taking root in him.

But her hair was long and silky under his fingers, and it did not tangle or bounce.

Something was amiss.

Jerking free he opened his eyes and stared up at Ailsa.

His heart thudded violently against the wall of his chest. “What are you doing?”

Ailsa ran her hand over his bare chest and flashed her eyes at him. “Waking you in the manner you enjoy most of all.”

It seemed like some strange jest because his mind and body were filled with Chloris and her essence. Then Ailsa’s hair spread over his chest in a silken curtain as she ducked her head and kissed him on his breastbone. Her hands moved lower to his breeches, where she began to undo the buttons.

Lennox grabbed her wrist, halting her. Pushing her aside, he sat up on the edge of the bed and rested his head in his hands.

“Lennox?”

“A moment, please.” The error disturbed him immensely.

Ailsa laid her hand against his back, sending her warmth into his bones, offering herself to him for pleasure and purpose—to give strength to his day in deed and magic.

Lennox rose to his feet, drawing away.

He did not want to hurt her, but he did not want her.

Turning to face her, he saw a woman thwarted.

She half sat in the place where he had left her, resting her hands on his empty mattress as she looked up at him. A beautiful lass she was, with her black hair trailing to the bed and eyes that flashed with mysticism and magic—eyes that reflected her heritage. She was a powerful young witch, and she needed a strong master to guide her lest she strayed from the natural path. Ailsa wanted that master to be him, always, but it could not be. Lennox was sure of that.

Swallowing hard, he reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head.

“It is her,” Ailsa accused. “Chloris Keavey, it is her you want.”

Straightening his breeches, he secured the buttons. “Be careful of what you are saying.”

“No. I know you, Lennox.” Her tone was bitter and she stared pointedly at his fingers lacing up his breeches. “You are blinded by your desire for her.”

When he met her stare, her eyes flashed with rage.

It occurred to him that she’d suspected it even before she woke him with her kiss. He’d wondered on it that night on the clearing. Had she set out to test him? He shrugged his waistcoat on. “I have never bound myself to one woman, you are well aware of that fact.”

“Until now,” she said accusingly, drawing away and rising to her feet on the other side of his bed. “You would bind yourself to her. I see it there in your eyes. That is why you do not want me anymore, because she is the only one for you now.”

Lennox cursed beneath his breath as he attempted to do up the buttons on his waistcoat. Ailsa spoke the truth. He could not deny her words nor would he have been able to indulge in carnal congress with her, because it was Chloris he wanted. That was no surprise. He loved her and would always protect her. Being confronted about it by a member of his coven did not help his state of mind, especially when his foremost concern was convincing Chloris to leave her husband and be with him instead.

“She’s not even one of our kind,” Ailsa continued, seemingly determined to drive her dagger deep, “which is the greatest risk of all. Even if she loves you now, there is no saying what she will do to you in the future.”

Irritated, Lennox shouted at her. “Enough!”