The Libertine (Taskill Witches 2)

Glenna tapped his arm. “You will find them, mark my words.”

“In the meantime,” Lachie said, “we have to comment if we think you’r

e putting yourself at risk, and that cousin of Keavey’s is an attractive sort.”

“And why were you looking?” Glenna asked.

“No crime in looking,” Lachie retorted with a chuckle.

The fraught mood had been broken, but Lennox still brooded on their comments. Glenna was correct, to some extent. Boredom drove him to be reckless, or something of that nature. Frustration drove him, too. Finding his siblings and keeping them safe had been his goal since they’d been parted as young ones, and when he was thwarted in his searches he directed his frustration toward those who sought the ruination of his kind. Keavey was set on keeping Lennox and his commerce out of the Royal Burgh of Saint Andrews. Others he did trade with supported the legitimacy of Lennox’s interest in affairs of the burgh, whereas Keavey spread rumor and suspicion.

And now Keavey’s pretty cousin had offered herself into his hands.

Risky or no, Mistress Chloris was far too tempting a spoil for him to ignore.

CHAPTER THREE

“Are you well this morning, cousin?”

Chloris set her fork down in order to respond. She forced herself to smile across the table at her cousin Tamhas and his wife, Jean. “Much better, thank you.”

Tamhas observed her briefly before returning his attention to his plate of bannocks and eggs.

Chloris was relieved. She wasn’t sure how much amiable conversation she could offer. The night before she’d been unable to attend dinner as planned. After her visit to the house in the woods her emotions were in complete disarray and she knew she would be unable to act sociably. Claiming a dizzy spell after her ride, she had excused herself and gone to her bedchamber. Jean had the cook prepare a gentle broth, but Chloris could scarcely even manage that, so preoccupied was she by the strange events of the evening. Even now, the morning after, she did not feel fully in charge of herself, and if she did not order her thoughts and maintain her composure her host would notice and question it.

However, the man at the house in the woods was not easily dismissed from her thoughts. Distance did not lessen the connection he’d made with her, or her curiosity.

It was only as she mounted her horse, driven by the urgent need to turn back toward her cousin’s house, that she realized she did not even know the man’s name.

It was likely that he withheld his name for self-protection, she decided. Even though he’d been somewhat discourteous and had touched her and alluded to more acts in that vein, he was as charming and well mannered as any polite man in society when he chose to be. Yet his fundamental nature was very different to her own—wild, unruly and decadent.

Even though she knew he was at risk of being called out for what he did, Chloris couldn’t actually imagine anyone attempting to challenge him. There was a sense of power about the man that was astonishing. Something borne of his witchcraft, no doubt. Deep down she recognized there were men out there who would indeed challenge him, because he did not swear allegiance to king or kirk but to some other, forbidden law.

She’d all but run from the place the evening before, but she’d lain awake thinking about everything he’d said to her. Her mind and body had been filled with the experience, not only the potential of what he’d said, but the odd thrill there had been in it, despite the danger of consulting with those who practiced dark, perhaps even evil ways.

There was also a devastating allure about the man and when she had eventually drifted into a fitful sleep her dreams were restless and filled with images of him. The fact he had been so eager to help her, so interested in her, made her wonder if he planted those images in her mind. Was he capable of such things? She had no idea, but she’d never before spent every moment recalling each word of a conversation with relish, reliving every moment—every glance, every touch—in her mind.

She was afraid of him, but also fascinated. That he was a compelling personage was unquestionable, but still she wondered at the effect he’d had on her. Moreover, she still couldn’t decide if it was wise or foolish to return and partake of his ritual. Hope and curiosity made her want to try it. Wariness and fear battled the desire to do so.

As she attempted to eat her breakfast, she questioned whether she could put herself wholly in his hands, open to him and trust him to undertake this act—this ungodly, heathen act—to save her marriage, to redeem her in her husband’s eyes. She had yearned for a child all these years, and now it had become a matter of life and death. A tide of doubt had forced her to pull free from his spell, for his intimate actions not only made her believe in his abilities, they also made her aware of his potential power over her. She remembered the way it had felt. A wave of arousal assailed her.

Flustered, she raised her hand to her throat. The heated physical reaction to her own thoughts shocked her. That a man could affect her so intensely was beyond her experience, and he had done so when she was alone with him as well as in mere memories. She had escaped and she knew she should be glad of that, turning away from a dangerous situation that she shouldn’t have entered into in the first place. Instead, she was craving something entirely different, more of the same. It was as if she were being pulled in by the mystery, by the promise and the thrill.

A moment later her dangerous thoughts were interrupted. The nursemaid entered the room with young Rab and Tam, Tamhas and Jean’s twin sons, dressed and ready for their morning in the nursery. Chloris was grateful. She always warmed at the sight of them. Barely three years old and adorable little men they were already. They always appeared somber and serious when presented to their parents, but Chloris had also observed them running amok in the gardens and it was those times she enjoyed the most. Often she would join them, taking a seat to observe and encourage their games.

Jean kissed both boys on the forehead and straightened their neckties and collars. When the boys turned to face their father, Tamhas mopped his mouth with a handkerchief, then nodded at the nursemaid and waved his hand, dismissing them. Rab and young Tam bowed their heads to their mother and then to Chloris, and then the nursemaid ushered them out. Chloris observed the family scene wistfully.

Jean caught Chloris’s eye when she turned back to her breakfast and nodded over. “I warrant you are missing Gavin.”

“Yes, I am.” It was the necessary response of a dutiful wife. In truth she felt strangely adrift. She’d been born in Saint Andrews but her place was in Edinburgh now. Besides, she was not sure Jean was entirely comfortable with her staying with them at Torquil House on such an extended visit.

Mention of her husband also made Chloris feel an all too familiar sense of failure. Gavin had sent her to the country to make her health more robust, so that she could bear him a child. It was his sole desire these days, which meant her role in his life went unfulfilled. Anger and frustration often characterized his mood toward her, whereas they’d been friends at first. He’d never been an affectionate man, but more often than not she saw disapproval in his eyes when he looked at her now. It haunted her. More so since she had left Edinburgh for Saint Andrews, because Gavin’s final words had been terrifying, more threatening than anything he had said or done before, and that set her on this outlandish path of action where she was willing to try anything to make it happen.

“I have to sit for the town council today,” Tamhas informed them as he rose to his feet. “I will send the carriage back for you if you wish to visit the market.”

“Yes, we shall.” Jean’s expression brightened considerably.

Chloris’s heart sank. She would be expected to accompany Jean, when what she longed for was some time alone to unravel her thoughts.