The Libertine (6 page)

Once again she wondered if she’d gone insane, agreeing to have
him come here. It was bad enough that she had sought his kind out. Why had she
succumbed to his offer in the marketplace? His presence here in her private
quarters was outrageous, and it flustered her immensely, even more than she had
imagined it would.

Then he stepped closer, into the light by the fireplace, and
those questions faded into the background. She was captured by the look of him.
Unruly, yet poised and elegant. He had the quality of a sleek parlor hound that
could turn into a wild hunter at whim. When he looked at her with those intense
eyes, her reason faltered.

“Good evening, Mistress Chloris.” He bowed his head.

“Sire.” Her voice wavered. She knew she must press on, and
quickly. She’d readied her words and forced them out. “You have risked much
coming here, thank you.”

A shadow of a smile passed over his lips. “You asked for my
help, but you were wary of being seen coming to my home. That is understandable.
We can talk here in privacy.”

She nodded, but somehow felt safer not meeting his piercing
gaze. Instead she risked only fleeting glances in his direction, remembering
what Tamhas had said about his eyes, and what she thought she had seen in the
market. Was it true? She meant to proceed quickly, lest they be discovered
conversing in secret in the midnight hour. However, curiosity had its hold on
her. “You seem to know your way about the place. You found my chamber
quickly.”

“Aye, I have been inside the house before. Not that Tamhas
Keavey knows of it, I warrant. Your cousin’s wife invited me here, secretly.” He
observed her as he spoke, almost as if he wanted to study her reaction. “It was
shortly after she became mistress of the house.”

Chloris was startled on several accounts and found herself
unable to respond with an appropriate answer. It appeared that he’d known all
along that Tamhas was her cousin. It would not take much investigation, she
supposed. Perhaps she had even given it away the night before. She’d been taken
by surprise on meeting him and had not thought clearly. The fact that there was
some previous involvement between him and Jean made her unbearably curious. It
went some way in explaining Jean’s response to him in the marketplace that
morning. Most of all it unnerved Chloris that Jean had apparently invited him
here, just as she had. Why?

Unbidden, Jean’s words of warning ran through her mind
again—her comments about his immoral nature, his ability to seduce. Chloris’s
face heated as she recalled Jean’s flustered state while she explained why they
had to avoid him. She’d said it was because of his reputation. Was there more to
it? Had Jean herself been involved with him?

Her visitor gave a soft laugh, as if he sensed his statement
had confused her. “Mistress Jean is a kindly woman, but somewhat gullible. As a
young bride,” he continued, sidling closer as he spoke, “Mistress Jean was
convinced of a ghostly presence in the west wing. She asked me here to seek it
out and send it on its way. Alas, it was a wasted visit, for I could not discern
any such presence.”

“Ah, yes.” Chloris nodded, relieved to get to a reason for his
previous visitation. “The illusive wandering spirit, there has always been talk
of it amongst the servants. As my cousin’s ward I spent several years living
here at Torquil House, before I left for Edinburgh, and there were no sightings
while I was resident. I suspected it was a fanciful tale woven by one of the
servants.”

He did not seem surprised. “Oftentimes we are called upon when
there is no real reason for our intervention.”

The way he said it—with careful emphasis—made her wonder.

“Superstition, hearsay, fear, mistaken assumptions...all of
these things bring troubled ones to us.” He gave a wry smile. He had drawn to a
halt an arm’s length away from her. “And the very same things are often turned
and used against us.” There was a bitter undercurrent to his tone, but he
quickly gestured with his hands, breaking the tension. “So, you have given
thought to our discussion?”

Questions still flitted through her mind. Making haste was
imperative, though. The threat of discovery made her uncomfortable. Especially
now that she knew the real reason for Jean’s concern. Jean had kept a secret
from Tamhas all these years, and his mood at dinner was some indication why. “I
have made my decision. I want you to undertake the ritual tonight.”

He cocked his head on one side, considering her. “I’m
surprised. I wasn’t expecting you to agree so soon.”

For a moment she felt he was disappointed by her eagerness.
Every time he spoke, he surprised her.

“I thought I might have to convince you,” he added. He looked
her over with an appreciative glance.

The way he studied her made her feel unsteady. The man was a
force of nature, to be sure. “I considered your words carefully, and although I
am somewhat nervous about the ritual itself, I want to proceed.”

He quirked an eyebrow.

Apparently it was necessary to give him just cause. Her gaze
lowered. “I would not have come to you if I had not been convinced of my need
for help. I have long since known that I am flawed, as a woman.”

She paused in order to swallow down the shame she felt. It was
not in her nature to discuss her problems openly with a man, let alone a
stranger. She was a proud woman and this had taken some effort on her behalf.
“If you can help me I would be most grateful.”

“No one is perfect, Mistress Chloris. Keep that in mind.” His
mouth twitched in amusement. “We each strive to be more able and useful. It was
brave of you to come to us, under the circumstances.”

She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze directly. “And it was
brave of you to come here to this house.”

Once the comment was out, the exchange affected her oddly. Was
it because they considered each other silently? A moment of mutual respect, she
assumed. Chloris wasn’t used to a man like him, one who could so easily control
a situation—either by mastery, seductive magic or surprising moments of respect.
As a woman, she rarely encountered any of those things in her husband, who was
an altogether different type of man.

Why am I even thinking like this,
comparing them
? It was wrong of her and she clutched her fisted hand
to her breastbone, ashamed of her wayward thoughts.

She turned away and picked up the pouch of coins she had
readied, offering it to him. “Please, tell me if this is enough for your
fee.”

He weighed the pouch in his hand and then set it back down on
the table without looking inside or counting the coins. “I suggest you determine
how much the fee should be when we complete our endeavor. If you are pleased
with the results, you can decide the amount.”

Was that because he was so sure of his magic? “If that is what
you would prefer.”

He nodded.

His poise was breathtaking. The way he stood, so still yet so
apparently ready to pounce into action, made her feel restless. “And now we
begin?”

She asked the question and yet she did not know what she was
doing.

His mouth lifted at one corner. “The ideal situation would be
to perform the ritual in nature’s bower, at first dawn or shortly afterward,
when we could engage with the ebb and flow of the natural world more readily.
But we can initiate it here, now.”

Her level of concern rose. “Initiate?”

“It may need more than one meeting.”

“Oh, I had not realized.” Chloris was set on it, but she had
hoped it would be done that night. She could not risk her hosts discovering her
actions. Doubts assailed her. What if the nature of his ritual was disturbing to
her? Would she be able to continue?

“Trust me, Mistress Chloris.” His eyes glinted. “The power we
invoke is only that which is around us at all times, the cycle of the seasons,
the power of nature to flourish and multiply. I will call upon the spirit of
spring, when the land is most fertile, and I will draw her vitality into
you.”

His words alone made her feel aroused. She had never heard such
things, and his knowledge was compelling. As was his presence.

“I must, however, warn you. If we were outside, the magical
forces I engender would dissipate into the air around us, but here, in this
space, it may linger.”

Breathlessly, she queried his meaning. “Linger?”

“You may feel...stimulated.” His gaze covered her, as if he
relished the idea of seeing it. “I thought it fair to warn you.”

Chloris was fairly sure he could tell she was already
stimulated. Was he teasing her with his warning? Objection parted her lips, but
before she had a chance to speak he turned away and removed his coat.

Chloris stared, disbelievingly, as he slung it over a nearby
chair, revealing broad shoulders under the fine linen of his shirt. He wore no
waistcoat, and the shirt fell from his shoulders loosely. When he turned to face
her again Chloris attempted to avert her eyes. She could not. His powerful chest
was exposed through the soft material—the opening at his neck showing bare skin.
She glanced beyond him, at the door, dreading what might happen if he was
discovered here.

“You are cautious,” he commented, “which I can understand. You
are a proud woman, but I sense you are mistrustful, too, for some reason.”

“Oh. I—”

“For the ritual to take hold, you must believe, you must
trust.”

“It is not you that I am mistrustful of.” She shook her head
quickly. “Forgive me. I am wary because I am afraid for both of us, meeting
here. My host would not approve. Perhaps I should not have let you come.”

“Fear not.” He smiled, and that smile seemed to warm her from
the inside, comforting her deeply.

“I am truly grateful for your efforts.” She lowered her
eyelids, wishing she had not said that much. She’d blurted out her thoughts
because she did not want him to leave.

Stepping closer, until he was right against her, he put his
head to one side. “May I remove your pearls?”

Startled, her hand went to her throat, where she wore a triple
strand of pearls that had belonged to her mother. Pearls were not as fashionable
as they had been in her mother’s time, but she often wore them in order to be
close to her mother.

“Allow me.” He eased her hand away and then stroked his own
around the back of her neck, paddling his fingers against the catch.

Her chin lifted. She couldn’t help it. His touch was subtle yet
so invigorating, like nothing she had ever experienced before.

When her head fell back he gazed down at her exposed neck and
the swell of her bosom. He was so blatant. He looked at her indolently and
without censure, apparently without concern for manners and the fact that she
was a married woman. Nevertheless, she had agreed to this, to whatever contact
he would have to make, and the consequences of that contact would just have to
be endured. And there were consequences. She felt the tension building inside
her all the while, and the air around them seemed heavy with desire, making her
feel even more self-aware and shameful.

His gaze sharpened. “Turn your head to the side.”

When she looked away, he pressed harder at the back of her neck
and the collar at her throat clicked open. When the choker slipped from its
place he gathered it in his hand. But his hand remained at the back of her neck,
the choker gathered in his fist. “Unfettered, that is much better.”

As he took his hand away, he ran the back of one knuckle the
length of her throat. “You are very beautiful.”

She knew she ought to question his actions and ask what would
happen next, for then she would be prepared. But she was unable to.

“If it were up to me,” he added in a low suggestive tone, his
gaze devouring her, “I would have you completely unfettered, naked and
glorious.”

Chloris gasped.

He put a finger to her lips, silencing her objection.

“Forgive me. I cannot help admiring you. You are a desirable
woman, and I am a man, after all.” His mouth pursed in a sensual smile.

A man? Why did that suddenly seem so much more dangerous than
him being a witch?

He removed the shawl she had around her shoulders, dropping it
onto the ground nearby. “Open your heart and mind to me.”

His voice was so low and husky it tugged at her nerves.

Then he pulled the kerchief free from her bosom, casting it
aside.

Chloris swayed unsteadily. “Please, you shame me.”

“I will need to lay my hands upon you. There is no shame in
this. You are a woman, a woman who desires her fulfillment.”

Fulfillment
. Deep in the pit of her
belly a pang of need sprung loose in response to that comment. It was not
bearing a child she thought of then, however, but a different kind of
fulfillment. He stirred it in her. Was it because she had never heard a man say
such things? Or was it because he was there, and he was undeniably alluring?

“Are you ready?”

She nodded.

He circled her and, as he did, he spoke in a tongue that she
didn’t recognize. Chloris felt the heat in the room build. She turned her head
to watch him and saw a man deep in concentration. His eyes were hooded, which
only made him look more handsome.

Again he spoke, his tone growing more forceful.

The fire crackled, flames leaping high in the grate.

He moved closer to her. Dropping to his knees before her, he
bent to place a kiss on her slippered feet, first the right, then the left.

Chloris stared down at him, astonished. All the while he
chanted beneath his breath. A strange draft moved through the room and on it the
scent of damp earth and sap. Instinctively, Chloris glanced over at the window,
thinking it open. It was not.

Lennox lifted her skirts and kissed her knees, first the right,
and then the left.

Mortified at the sudden exposure of her stockings and legs,
Chloris’s hand went to her throat. “This is so untoward.”