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.
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.
Then the pressure he applied met with a response—a pang of bliss melted her center, and she could not pull away. Instead she let him rest his hand there, overawed at the immense pleasure that point of contact gave her.
“There is a pleasurable way to alleviate this tension, I’m sure you know what it is.” His smile was wicked, but he kept massaging her in that place and her head dropped back, tears dampening her cheeks.
The Libertine Page 8
