The Libertine (8 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

The gnarled old tree beckoned to Chloris from the
woods, its broken limb eerily reaching out of the forest to where the earth was
trodden by foot and hoof. It had occurred to her that she might have misheard
the details of the meeting point, but mention of the old oak tree had pinned it
in her thoughts, despite her befuddled state of mind and body the night before.
The urge to turn back was fierce, and yet she’d had to come.

Now that she had initiated this endeavor she had to see it
through. Not least because the restless forces within her demanded it. Doubt
hampered her every move, however. Why, she asked herself most of all, did she
have this simple, hankering need to see the man again? Her purpose was to take
the ritual magic further in order to achieve her goal. Why did she crane her
neck so, eager for sight of him?

She dismounted as she looked about.

Alas, there was no sign of the Witch Master.

The sky was clear and the sun well risen, but the early spring
air was a little chilly and fresh. Dew still glistened in the shaded spots of
moss beneath the canopy of leaves overhead. Birds twittering nearby encouraged
her. She stepped closer to the tree.

As she did, Master Lennox emerged from behind it. Silent,
stealthy and sudden.

The sight of him made her footsteps falter to a halt.

“Mistress Chloris.” He nodded her way.

Taken aback by his appearance, she gripped her mount’s reins
tighter and prayed for good sense to prevail in her dealings with him. It would
not be easy. The only saving grace of the night before was that they were hidden
away. Even so, she’d had to continually remind herself they were conducting a
healing venture and not conversing on her bed for any more dubious purpose. This
morning he had come out with no coat at all, no necktie. His waistcoat was
undone, too, and his loose shirt hung open at the neck revealing his broad,
powerful chest.

Seemingly at one with his wild surroundings, he rested one hand
up against the rough-hewn tree trunk and gazed over at her with an assessing
eye. “The morning light becomes you.”

Taking a deep breath, Chloris attempted to deflect his remark.
“Compliments are not necessary for our transaction, sire.”

“No. It must be said.” The twinkle in his eye was wickedly
suggestive. “Your pale beauty is most appealing. Something has put color in your
cheeks. The morning ride, perhaps?” His tone insinuated something entirely
different.

Chloris gave him a wry smile. “You are well aware that your
ritual magic of last night has left me in a...delicate state. You warned me of
it, therefore you likely expected the result to linger.”

His gaze raked over her as he stepped closer. “Unleashing your
deepest carnal desires may help your quest for fertility.”

With the help of the clear light of day and a fortified will,
she lifted her chin, determined to keep a hold on her wayward emotions this
time. “Is it true what they say about your kind...that you see no shame in
seeking carnal gratification?”

His mouth curled.

Damn the man. He was amused by her provocation. Not only that,
but his humor made him look more roguish. That had the unfortunate effect of
making him even more attractive to her.

Chloris turned her face away. This was a dangerous situation
and she regretted voicing her question so directly. She’d meant to be bold—to
show him she was strong and not easily played. She’d come in to this with a
goal, but she was aware he was deriving more than his fee from it, and he seemed
to be enjoying her discomfort. She would not play this dangerous game with
doubts in her mind as to his purpose, therefore it was better to let him know
she was aware of his nature. Or, at least that is what she had determined as she
tried to decide whether or not to attend the meeting he suggested.

“It is true, yes. Because there is nothing more powerful than
the life force exchanged by lovers, and we believe that nature’s way should be
revered, respected and harvested.”

Chloris wished she hadn’t asked. The honesty and forthright
manner in which he spoke about matters of physical congress left her speechless.
It seemed that whenever she presented him with a question, his response was so
direct and lacking in shame that she felt somehow raw and exposed.

His eyelids flickered and he reached out and grasped her
hand.

Chloris resisted when he attempted to draw her nearer to
him.

A warning flashed in his eyes. “Make haste, I hear a
carriage.”

Startled into action, Chloris hastened alongside him. When she
glanced back she saw that her mount followed them, which was a great relief.

“Here, shelter here.” He drew her in behind a large oak.

With her back to the tree she was completely hidden from view.
Master Lennox faced her, one arm protectively raised against the tree trunk to
shield her. Concern marked his expression. It struck her oddly. He appeared to
care.

Moments later a carriage trundled by.

“Thank you,” she whispered when it had gone.

The light was behind his head and the shadows made his features
appear even more dramatic. Chloris felt light-headed and found herself unable to
do anything other than stare up at him.

“Come, we’ll go deeper into the forest.” His voice was low, and
he moved his hand to the small of her back, encouraging her to move.

That touch made her feel self-aware. Her feet were strangely
leaden as if she were unable to step out. She looked back for her horse. The
mare was grazing.

“She has found a sweet patch of grass,” he said. “She won’t
wander.”

Chloris stared at him. How could he be sure? Was he that in
tune with their surroundings? Then he smiled at her, and she believed.

Mustering herself, she returned his smile and stepped alongside
him.

“It is a good time,” he said, looking up at the canopy of
leaves overhead. “The sunlight will fall across a patch of bluebells soon,
yonder.” He nodded his head deeper into the woods.

Something about the way he spoke made her feel his deep bond
with the place. How strange it was, when he could so easily appear to be a fine,
cultured gentleman. Now, here in the wilds, he seemed even more at ease.

His lip curled at one corner. “I believe it is the perfect
place for you to blossom.”

Blossom. Yes, I believe I will
.

“Fear not, Mistress Chloris. I will look after you.” He reached
out and lifted her gloved hand to his lips. Even through the kid leather she
felt his heat.

The smell of fern and blossom intensified.

Affected by his concern for her rather than his charm, she felt
disarmed. He spoke in such persuasive tones, and when he met her gaze it was
with certainty and reassurance. Chloris believed he truly wanted her to flourish
in that way. It struck her that he took pride in his task, despite his
outlandish and forbidden nature.

As he led the way, he took her hand. “The path is uneven, allow
me to guide you.”

With her hand in his, her senses heightened. The twitter of the
birds in the branches overhead seemed more musical, more resonant. The smell of
the undergrowth became even more intense. It was him, she realized. His craft,
his magic. She was all but seeing through his eyes. It was startling. Her
determination to remain levelheaded was slipping away.
I’m
falling under his spell.

When he looked her way, the steady warmth he conveyed only
confirmed it.

“There.” He gestured beyond.

Between the trees she saw it, a hidden glen, the floor of which
was covered in bluebells. The glen was sheltered, the breeze only shifting the
highest leaves overhead. Sunlight glinted through the leaves and dappled across
the flowers. It made the ground seem almost as if it was a moving, living,
breathing thing. Chloris was awestruck by the sight. “Oh, Master Lennox, it
truly is a beautiful place.”

“Please, my given name will suffice.”

“Lennox,” she whispered, enjoying the implied intimacy.

“Are you ready?”

She nodded, breathless with anticipation. If her experience was
anything like the night before and it happened here in this beautiful place, so
hidden and precious, she knew instinctively that it would be magical.

He led her again, through the bluebells to the very center of
the carpeted spot. Her riding skirt was tugged by the thick foliage, and as they
carved a narrow path through the blooms the scent permeated the air around them,
stimulating her to inhale deeply.

When Lennox drew to a halt, he touched her on the shoulders to
still her. Then he began to chant in that secret language of his, moving around
her while she stood still.

Chloris blinked, swept up quickly into the moment.

The more he stepped around her, the more bound up in him and
his strange chant she became. The stir of the breeze through the treetops
sounded louder, too, as did the distant birdsong. The scent of the flowers grew
stronger and the moss grew denser, and her pulse raced, her skin tingling with
excitement. This time she did not fight it, she embraced it.

Vitality plumed inside her, rising like a vapor to warm every
part of her.

Losing herself, she looked up through the canopy of leaves and
felt the sun on her face. Sinking and rising all at once, she felt as if she had
joined with the forest around her and breathed as one with it. Then she felt his
fingers in her hair, loosing it.

Lennox
. Craving him, desire beat an
urgent rhythm in her blood.

His eyes were bright and lust-filled. She stared up at him,
transfixed. It had affected him, too, she could see that. Trembling wildly she
clutched at his shirt. Her knees went weak under her. She faltered. Lennox
caught her in his arms.

“Lie down,” he instructed, his tone low and suggestive.

She wanted to lie down, lie with him. When she nodded, he
lowered her safely to the ground. She sank down gratefully.

“Rest back, I’ll hold you.”

His voice was reassuring and she gave in to it readily, resting
on the bed of succulent bluebells. The fleshy stems and petals around her seemed
a bed too blissful, their musk too inviting. Then he was lying alongside her and
when she turned to him their gazes locked.

She reached out, touched his jaw with her hand. “Do you need to
kiss me again, to make it work?”

“Aye, that I do.” The look he gave her—pleasured and brooding
all at once—made her ache for more.

Moving over her, his mouth covered hers, his hard body pressing
against hers, heightening her need. His kiss was hungry and Chloris answered in
kind. She held tight to him, her body moving under his, her hips arching up.
When she felt his hard length pressed against her thigh, she moaned with
longing. At her center she clutched as if reaching for him, reaching for that
part of him that could join them.

He lifted up onto his arms, looking down at her, but he did not
move away.

Nor did she ask him to.

Between her thighs a riotous pulse beat, her folds growing
slick and humid with desire. The need for relief was overwhelming. The sunlight
was behind his head and Chloris stared up at his shadowed face, wanting more,
wanting him. All she could think of was what it might feel like to have that
hard length of his driving inside her.

“You are such a temptation,” he whispered.

She had to battle the urge to lift her skirts and beg him to
take her. Gathering the fabric in her fisted hands, she wondered where such a
wild notion had come from. His spell?

His eyes glinted. Did he know that was what she wanted to
do?

“Confide in me. Tell me if you feel a change manifest.”

“A change, yes, but it is...it is desire that I feel.”
Overwhelmed, she stared up at him. “It is fertility I seek, and now I begin to
question this...lust.”

“Question it?” He leaned closer still, his hand on her waist.
“Why would you question it? I can see the vitality in your eyes and the color in
your cheeks. Your essential womanly nature is flourishing.” He shifted his hand,
moving it, so that it lay over her lower belly.

Even through her skirts she felt it, as if she were being
branded by his touch. She moaned aloud, for the proximity of his hand to the
place she currently craved him sent her closer to madness. “I should never have
come. I was warned against you.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Were you? And yet you came anyway,
putting yourself at risk of the very thing you have been warned about.”

She could not speak, because all she wanted to do was writhe
beneath him and it was taking all her efforts not to do so.

He gave her a lingering glance and she saw her own hunger
reflected in his eyes. Mutual desire. It struck her fiercely, for it was
something she had never known before and it felt right and true and
powerful.

“The arousal,” he continued, “it is part of opening the deepest
secret part of you to flourish and receive your lovers freely...here.”

Chloris moaned aloud because he applied pressure through her
skirts as he spoke, and his hand was directly over her intimate places. She felt
herself grow damper still between her thighs. Never before had she felt this
way. It was him. And she wanted him. Wanted him badly. Turning her face away,
she closed her eyes tightly and tried to steady the wild beating of her
heart.

“Ah, I see the true nature of your problem, Mistress
Chloris.”

She turned back.

The provocative smile he wore made her ache with longing.

“Your desire is out of control, perhaps?”

Thoroughly ashamed of her predicament, she managed to nod her
head.

His hand moved lower still and he applied a mite more pressure,
right over her groin.

“Oh, dear God!” She stared down, her lips parting in objection.
But when she saw his hand moving there, where the fabric of her gown dipped into
the hollow between her legs, she was so astonished that she could not say
more.