The Libertine (7 page)

Then her limbs tingled and heat pulsed through her.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed, looking up at her, eyes
luminous, “allow yourself to be taken by the spell.”

It took a moment, for she was captured by the sight of him, but
she did as he said. As soon as her eyes were closed she heard him chant again.
Her skin tingled. Her head dropped back, her hair tumbling loose over her
shoulders.

“What do you feel?”

Chloris struggled to find the right words. “A surge, as if
something is rising up inside me.”

Lennox pressed his mouth to her belly through her skirts.

Like a rising tide inside her, she felt gloriously vital. She
drew a deep breath and lifted her arms, twining her fingers together over her
head.

“Oh, yes, you are like a young sapling reaching for the sky.”
He rose, but as he did, he embraced her around the waist with both hands and
bent to kiss the swell of her breasts at the edge of her gown.

Her eyes flashed open. Her breasts swelled against the confines
of her corset and bodice, nipples chaffing. She trembled with the immense rush
of sensation within her.

He stood before her, watching her. “I must kiss your mouth to
complete the ritual, do I have your permission?”

The twinkle in his eyes made her pause. Struggling to make
sense of myriad sensations she felt, and doubting the need for the kiss, she was
about to query him. Then she looked at his mouth—so handsome, so lush and
firm—and she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to know what it would be
like.

Her head tipped back as she offered her mouth to him.

When his lips touched hers she froze, suddenly afraid, but he
held her to him with one hand against the small of her back.
Am I doing this because of his magic?
she thought
vaguely, but the question wisped away on the spring breeze he had conjured.

His mouth was firm and warm and persuasive.

Closing her eyes, she let it happen, too aroused to think
clearly and too entranced to refuse herself this. When she melted and moved
against him, his kiss became more provocative. He parted her lips with his.
Exploring her, he kissed her mouth until her body arched against his, and then
he demanded more by thrusting his tongue between her parting lips. The action
was so suggestive that she tingled wildly at her center, the heat between her
thighs building by the moment.

Pressed body to body, she responded by grasping his shoulders,
and as she did, a hidden part of her blossomed inside. She gasped against his
mouth as the strange feeling grew, becoming intense, and she felt dizzy with
pleasure. Her entire body vibrated with the need for more. Her intimate flesh
grew damper by the moment, her breasts aching for contact.

Lennox drew back, but kept his hands locked around her
waist.

Chloris was glad he anchored her that way, for she felt as if
she might swoon. Her body truly had warmed and blossomed after his strange
actions, but the state it left her in was no easy burden. “You have made
me...”

She inhaled deeply, but that only seemed to increase her
agitated state.

He cocked his head to one side, a predatory smile on his
lips.

Had he done that on purpose? Frustration and objection swelled
in her. “You have put me in a state of...need.”

His hands roved lower, around the curve of her hips. “I warned
you, did I not?”

“I did not know it would be like this.” It was the strangest
experience, for his proximity alone had stimulated her before the intimate
contact. Her breathing was increasingly constricted and she felt dizzy, as if
her garments were too tightly laced.

“You have not felt this way before?”

There was no doubt he was being provocative. She pressed her
lips together.

“It will pass, try to breathe steadily.” His actions
contradicted his soothing words, for he drew her in against him, resting her
head against his chest, which only made her situation worse.

It was akin to being embraced, and the hard bulk of his chest
beneath his shirt only served to convey the kind of masculine virility that
could slake her current needs. What had he done to her with his magic? Surely,
if he had put her in this state, he could end it? Touching her forehead with one
hand, she looked up and gave him a pleading glance. “Please, can you help
me?”

With a nod he bent and lifted her in his arms and took her to
the bed. Being held that way—totally enclosed and easily carried in his strong
arms—only made her state worsen. Before she had a chance to object, he bent over
her and began to loose the ribbons on her bodice, deftly untying them and
tugging them open. Astonished, Chloris tried to stop him. “Please, sire,
no.”

Arching an eyebrow, he gave her an amused glance. “Hush, you
are in danger of fainting, I am only assisting.”

He wore a dark smile, though, a smile that only seemed to
confirm his ability to seduce her.

Chloris whimpered. Then his hand brushed the swell of her bosom
and, as her bodice was loosed, made fleeting contact with her left breast. “Oh,
lord, you are making it worse.”

He leaned right over her and captured her chin in his hand,
forcing her to meet his gaze.

Chloris stared up at him, taking in the self-assured look in
his eyes. He knew the effect he was having on her, and he was about to kiss
her.

Her lips parted.

With a sigh of admiration, he brushed his fingers over the
swell of her breasts again and then ducked his head and rested a kiss in her
cleavage.

The contact made her melt into the bed. Her emotions soared.
Never before had she been touched with such persuasive hands. Torn, she knew she
should feel this was wrong, allowing this man so close to her bed. But it didn’t
feel wrong, it felt good, and she wanted more.
Have I lost
my sense of reason?

“You are most desirable. Perhaps I should not confess this,
Mistress Chloris, but you have made me crave a taste of you.” Mischief glinted
in his eyes, the candlelight picking it up as he turned his head.

She shook her head.

“Why do you fight it?” He breathed against her collarbone as he
rested a kiss there. “This is what you wanted, to be a woman who is fecund and
rich in possibility.”

His words were so suggestive, so flagrantly outrageous. Yet it
made her entire body throb in response.

“You are all of that and more.” Whispering the words close
against her ear, he captured the lobe between his teeth and tugged at it gently.
“What man could resist?”

“But I...”

“Don’t fight it. This is what you came to me for.”

Was it? She wasn’t sure anymore. He was a wild one, living by
his own rules. Why did that intrigue her so?

Brusquely, he undid the remaining ribbons on her bodice, and
then tugged her shift down, exposing her nipples where they rose up and breached
the top of her corset. Unruly fire built in his eyes as he looked down at
her.

He ran his thumb over her peaked nipple. “Take your pleasure
from my touch, it will serve to bed down the magic of the ritual.”

He lowered his head and kissed her nipple. It was gentle,
barely a breath of a touch, but it drew the heat inside her up and to him,
linking them together somehow, swelling the vitality inside her.

Even in the peculiar heated state she found herself in—adrift
on the sensations he introduced into her—she tensed in his grip. Decorum forced
her reaction. She was shocked at his intimacy. She drew back. “Master Lennox,
please...”

Don’t.

Please don’t
. That’s what she had
intended to say, but she stumbled on the words.

He swooped, kissed her other nipple, this time fiercely.

“Please, Master Lennox, I cannot bear it.”

He lifted his head, but his expression had turned serious. “I
cannot help but wonder at this,” he said gruffly, and she realized his whole
body was tense with withheld passion.

She stared at him, unable to believe that this man wanted her.
It was there in his eyes, though, in every touch and action. “Wonder?”

He sat alongside her on the edge of her bed. “This, it seems so
unnecessary, for you are a desirable woman, Mistress Chloris. As lush as a ripe
fruit and just as tempting.”

The man was every bit the seducer Jean had suggested, and
Chloris leveled her gaze at him, battling to control her senses, for they were
driven wild by him.

“I do not sense that you are barren,” he added.

Reference to her malady made her emotions tumble. “It is almost
certain. I have seen a physician in Edinburgh, the best of his profession. But
you’re attempting to distract me from what just occurred.”

His eyes narrowed. “Perhaps it is your husband who is
barren.”

“No.” She shook her head. His comments did nothing to quell the
tension she felt.

“If you were to take a lover, it would prove the matter,” he
added.

Chloris expected to find mischief in his eyes, but his
expression was quite serious. She sighed. “How convenient to have a man in my
bed, should I feel your suggestion was appropriate.”

That made him smile. “I take it you do not have a lover, or
have you?”

“No.” It was a suggestion she’d heard many times before,
though, from her friends and acquaintances in Edinburgh. She’d even been offered
the opportunity of an introduction to a suitable man who would be willing to
undertake the task. “If I were to take a lover...I would not do it to prove my
husband was at fault. I am loyal to Gavin. That’s why I...” She beseeched him,
searching his eyes for understanding.

His eyebrows gathered. “Loyal, through love?”

Duty.

His question was too much, worse than the intimate touch, the
heated kiss. She forced herself to nod and then turned away. “I fear I am and
always will be a failure to my husband.”

Leaning closer, he stroked her hair back from her forehead with
a tender touch. “Is that what burdens you so?”

Why was it she was compelled to share her thoughts with him, to
be honest about things she had never told anyone? “It disappoints me greatly, I
cannot deny it.” She pursed her lips a moment. “I am, however, not prone to
melodrama over such things.”

Once again, he smiled. “But you do carry a secret burden,
something you have shared with no one, not friends or kin.”

Tensing, she shook her head.

“I sense it in you. If you tell me what it is, I will be more
able to help you.” There was a firm, commanding tone to his voice.

“You’re my last chance.”

“And we have made progress. It is that important to you?”

“Would I have put myself at risk with a stranger if that were
not the case?” She turned her face away.

“What is it?” Grasping her by the chin he forced her to meet
his gaze.

Chloris felt something turn in her chest and her will to keep
her private matters private weakened. “I must fall pregnant with my husband’s
heir.”

He cocked his head as if waiting for her to say more. Expecting
it.

The truth knotted in her chest, but the dark secret she
carried—that which filled her with shame—was being drawn out as surely as if he
had it harnessed by a thread of magic and tugged gently, drawing from her.

Her lips parted, but she said it unwillingly. “I fear my life
depends on it.”

CHAPTER SIX

My life depends on it?
Lennox studied the woman, attempting to read the turmoil he saw there at the
back of her eyes.

Prior to that moment of confession she was all but ready to
surrender herself to him completely—and he was more than ready to lose himself
between her soft thighs. His intentions, at first, had been almost wholly
selfish. There was a twisted pleasure in entering Tamhas Keavey’s house while he
slumbered unaware. There was also great pleasure in dallying with his cousin.
Her tender beauty called to him. She would be soft and supple beneath him, and
he craved the clasp of her body on his hardened cock as he entered her. During
the ritual she had responded so readily, and that only increased his desire.

How sweet it was to enjoy her, with the certain knowledge that
Keavey would be horrified when the tale came out. The nature of the situation
had changed, however. She’d drawn back a curtain and showed him her secret
fears. An instinctive need to know more came over him. He regretted the
interruption, but there were times when discovering the truth overwhelmed his
cause. It was because he hated to see fear in a woman’s eyes. Desire was good.
Fear was not. It was always the way because of what he’d seen happen to his own
womenfolk, as a youth.

“Your life?” he queried.

Her eyelids remained lowered, the patches of color on her
cheeks high. “I should not have said that.”

The tug of resistance was more than he would expect in a
well-to-do woman who had lowered herself to seek help of the local witches.
There were the basic fears—that they would be discovered together, that she
would be mocked by her hosts for indulging her whims with the demonic Witch
Master. Beyond that there was a deep fear, something that had forced her
footsteps to his door. She wanted a child, and yet that wasn’t the only thing
pushing her footsteps on. The need in her was something far deeper, rooted in
obligation and mired in a situation from which she felt she had no escape.

“Come now.” He stroked her face, urging her to tell him more.
There were so many intriguing things about this woman. She was a wellborn lady,
and yet she was suggesting that she had suffered. “You have said it, and you
have lowered a barrier between us.”

“Please.” She looked at him from under her lashes. “My comment
was overly dramatic in the heat of the moment.” She swallowed. “I meant only
that my husband would be so much happier if I were to have a child.”

Lennox took a lingering glance at her breasts, so voluptuous
spilling from her loosed bodice, her peaked nipples a telltale sign of her state
of readiness for lovemaking. How he would enjoy disrobing her completely,
pleasuring her until she cried out for him. It would happen. He had commenced
her seduction in order to make Keavey suffer. Now that he saw the humility in
her, and he felt the vital spark of her burgeoning arousal in response to him,
his opinion on where to take matters was divided. He shrugged it off, disposing
of the moment of doubt. He could have her, embolden her in carnal ways, bring
her to an understanding of her perceived lack of womanhood, and still it would
annoy Keavey.

In the candlelight he could see the pulse beating at the base
of her throat and the swell of her breast rose and fell rapidly. Stimulating her
had been easy enough, stepping away was going to be harder for him. She was
ready, and the startled expression in her eyes convinced him that she was not
familiar with being in the state of readiness for passion. How interesting it
would be to lead her further along that path.

The pressing need to find release himself played its own part.
The way she’d looked at him when he began to weave his spell turned him hard.
Those eyes of hers, so open, so honest. The way her lips parted when she found
her senses stimulated. It made him want to enter her, to satisfy the desire that
had been brought about in them both. He had not expected to be so readily
stimulated, but the moment he entered her chamber he began thinking about how
pleasant it might be to lie between her legs.

Advances had been made to his satisfaction.

Now, to be sure she would meet him again.

He traced his fingers across her collarbone and down into the
shadowy dip between her breasts. Hooking his finger over the bodice of her gown,
he tugged at it, freeing her breasts entirely. Her head pressed back into the
pillows, her eyelids fluttering down as the soft globes of her breasts were
fully revealed. Her body undulated against the bedcovers. She reached for him
and her hands fisted on his shirt.

There was no doubt in his mind that she was ready to
capitulate, to allow him to take what he wanted. However, that wasn’t enough. He
wanted her to need him so desperately that she pursued him and begged for her
release at his hands. Only then would he accept that he had done his job well
enough. Knowing that she had flaunted herself, offered—nay—given herself to him,
she would hang her head in shame when Keavey asked her if it was the truth, if
she had sullied herself at the hands of the local Witch Master.

He had made it easier for her tonight, traveling to meet her
here. She had needed that, however. The night before there had been regret in
her eyes. Now the new fear that she exhibited was that he would not take this
further.

It was time to test her a little. How far was she prepared to
go?

He rose to his feet. “We have done well tonight, and now I must
take my leave.”

Her head lifted from the pillows, seeking him out. “But
you...you have put me in such a state. I do not know how I will rest.”
Round-eyed and delightfully innocent-looking, she continued, “Is there no way
you can alleviate the condition you have put me in?”

Lennox attempted to keep his manner serious. In truth it amused
him immensely to think how outraged Tamhas Keavey would be if he knew the
despised coven master was in his home, making his pretty cousin swoon after mere
moments of preliminary lovemaking. Lusty thoughts filled his mind and it took
some effort to ignore the state of his cock when he stood upright. Her whispered
pleas and protestations did not help to quell his state of readiness. “I cannot
risk staying longer. I have not forgotten your honor is at stake, nor do I want
to.”

She sat back against the pillows and rested her hand against
her forehead, her expression apparently startled to the point of dismay by his
imminent departure.

Lennox observed the depth of her need. Unleashing her
passions—when the time came—would be most pleasurable indeed.

“But I... Is it done? I mean, have we achieved our goal?” There
was a demanding expression in those wide eyes of hers. “I have seen your magic
but I do not know if it has changed me. At least—” she put her hand to her
throat “—not in the way I meant it to.”

Her honesty was startling.

Did she truly not believe it, or was it the fact that she was
left aroused and bewildered that brought about that reaction? Lennox pulled on
his coat. “The ritual will need to be repeated and reinforced.”

He quelled his smile. Tapping his finger against his bottom lip
thoughtfully, eager to see her plead with him some more.

She peered up at him, so pleasingly oblivious to her disheveled
state—her breasts on display, her hair escaping from her lace cap to tumble down
past her shoulders, so fetching—as she awaited his words.

“I believe you rode to Somerled last night, is that
correct?”

She nodded.

“Tell me, do you ever take an early-morning canter?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Would you do so, in order to pursue your...desire?”

Her cheekbones colored.

“Your
heart’s
desire,” he
clarified, amused.

Her eyes flickered. “Would it be helpful?”

It was clearly against her better judgment, but she was
responsive all the same.

He half turned away lest she see his smile. “As I mentioned
earlier, the ritual would be better performed in the early morning, when the
spring blossoms open and nature is at her most fertile and inviting.”

It was another boundary that he was suggesting she cross to
reach her goal.

Her pretty mouth pursed.

How she liked to assess the danger, he noticed, watching her
eyes flicker. She was not as easily led as he initially thought. When she had
walked into Somerled he had assumed she had come there on a whim. Now he
realized she had probably considered it at great length.

He did not wait any longer. “Do you know the place where the
lane forks on the way to Saint Andrews, where there is an old oak with a broken
limb that reaches down to the earth and beckons like a hand.”

She stiffened, turning her surprised gaze to him.

“Ah, I see you do.” He nodded his head. “I will meet you there
when the sun tips over the treetops.”

With that parting instruction he took his leave, not allowing
her time to respond or think on it any more before he was gone. With luck that
would create a sense of obligation in her and she would have to attend, no
matter how hard she fought her desire to submit to him in the full light of
day.

At the door he paused briefly, turned back and bowed in her
direction.

Heady female arousal swelled from the place where she half sat
on the bed.

Lennox breathed it in, allowing it to fire his loins—allowing
her vitality to infuse him and fuel his craft. As he stepped out of her room and
shut the door, he cloaked himself by means of magic. If anyone sensed a presence
and emerged from one of the many doorways in the corridor, they would see only a
shadow.

* * *

Lennox left her in such a state of arousal that Chloris
had to pace her bedchamber for a long while before it began to pass. Plumping
the pillows into shape, she undressed and put on her nightgown. Then she assumed
a reposed position on the bed and closed her eyes.

When she did, she felt as if he were still there, arched over
her, whispering his seductive words as his warm breath teased over her skin.
Turning on her side, she pounded her pillow again and pulled the covers higher,
attempting to block out the thoughts. Then she realized that she would be
readying to meet him in just a few hours, and that sent her further into a spin.
Could she even begin to consider it?

It has to be done
. If she felt this
disturbed after the next stage of the ritual, then she would have to reconsider.
She’d come this far, and she did feel different. There was no doubt about that.
The stable boys began work at dawn, and she would ask them to saddle a suitable
mount for a morning ride.

When she eventually fell into a restless sleep, Chloris dreamed
of the Witch Master. The Witch Master, holding her with his hands about her
waist—holding her steady, despite the unruly magic he unleashed around her.
Somehow, that soothed her, and she drifted on the sensation until she awoke
suddenly at dawn, gasping for breath—awoke from a much more frightening image:
Gavin.

Gavin with his hands wrapped around her throat.