The Libertine

by Saskia Walker

  He was going to make love to her, and she wanted him to. Needed it, badly. Never before had she felt this way. “I do not wish to be unfaithful to my husband.”

  “I would not invade your husband’s territory, not unless you requested I do so.” There was a level of gentle sarcasm in his voice that she could not fail to notice, despite the state she was in. “I would not take a woman, married or otherwise, unless she was determined to be mounted and begged for it.”

  Chloris was so close to doing that very thing, but the fact he’d said it astonished her.

  “You are shocked that one such as I has a code of honor?” Humor danced through his eyes.

  Chloris was entranced. Every time she thought she gained an understanding of his motives he surprised her anew. His eyelids were half-lowered, but that did not shade the vital spark in his vivid blue eyes. The dark of his lashes seemed only to emphasize the fire she saw there. Could she trust his words? Everything he said seemed to contradict his actions—actions that had put her in such a state of stimulation that she was ready to beg him in the very manner he had suggested.

  Again he kneaded her mound in the cup of his hand. “I am merely suggesting a little light relief.”

  The bulky layers of fabric did nothing to protect her. Her emotions were adrift in a haze of pleasure, the weight of his hand there making ripples spread through her loins. What would it feel like if she were naked? A fresh wave of heat covered her skin as the thought flitted through her mind.

  “I will take your silence as agreement.” Lifting her skirts he pushed them to her waist and covered her bare mons with his warm palm.

  Chloris was about to disagree when his finger moved into her hot folds and stroked. Stroked again. Back and forth, sliding easily against her swollen nub because of her copious juices. It felt so good. Chloris half sat, wrapping her arms around his neck, working her body against his hard fingers as they plied her open.

  She was already close to spilling.

  Then he eased a finger inside her. “Oh, yes, this is what you needed.”

  Chloris flashed him a warning glance, and then he pushed deeper and rested his thumb against her nub. Her head went back, and when the release came she rocked her hips and moaned, long and loud.

  Lennox kissed her exposed throat, and when her thoughts finally ordered themselves, she pulled away, rolling onto her side and facing away from him, embarrassment swamping her. And still she craved more—craved him. Even though she had come undone, the tension was building again.

  “What ails you, mistress? Have I not brought you relief?” He lowered his head to kiss her shoulder, encouraging her to be open to him.

  “Yes, but apparently I have grown ever more needful in its wake.” She tugged her skirts down over her legs.

  “Don’t hide yourself, you are beautiful.” He lay alongside her back, molding his frame to hers.

  “Please, I cannot bear this. I am mortified by my own lusts.”

  “It was not meant to shame you, I would never do that.”

  She glanced back at him.

  “But now that I have seen you like this...” His eyes darkened. “I think it becomes you, and it rouses me immensely.” He bent to kiss the side of her face.

  Why did that arouse her again? Her body responded to his words as if they were invitations to more pleasure.

  When she glanced back, Lennox was looking at her with hungry eyes and she could feel his erection against her behind. He was ready. It made her weak with lust.

  “You are making it worse.” Her voice faltered.

  “Perhaps, but I know I can make you enjoy it.”

  “I don’t doubt that, you are a master seducer.” Chloris pursed her lips. She had not meant it to sound like a compliment. Meanwhile, her traitorous body responded to him eagerly. She was a married woman. What was happening to her? She had lost all sense of reason.

  Lennox laughed softly, his fingers brushing languorously over her bodice above her nipples. She wriggled and attempted to roll farther away, but found herself hampered. Lennox sighed and ran his hand over the surface of her bodice, down around the outside of one breast, slowly cupping it through her clothing.

  He bent to rasp his tongue over her earlobe, where it set alight a wild flickering flame. She couldn’t voice the objections that ran through her thoughts, because her body wouldn’t allow it. With Lennox toying with her—his large male body pressing so determinedly against hers, his mouth brushing over her skin—she was speechless, helpless, a victim of her own desire.

  Pressing close against her back, he stroked his hand under her skirt again, pushing it up. “You are ready to have a man inside you.”

  “Please do not say that.” Because it’s true.

  “I want you, Chloris,” he coaxed. “You’re so hot, damp.” His hand was between her thighs. “I feel your need in the palm of my hand.”

  With his fingers stroking over her folds she was as weak as a rag doll in his hands. Her heart raced, her body clamoring for him.

  “Tell me you don’t want this, and I will desist.”

  She wanted him, wanted him badly. “Lennox, please...”

  “This?” He shifted at her back and she felt the hard rod of his erection pressing against her bare thigh.

  How good it would feel to writhe on it, to work off her frustration on such a fine weapon. Tipping her head back she invited him closer, relinquishing herself to him, offering no resistance.

  Holding her, he reached over to kiss her mouth. But he kept her in that position, on her side. A moment later, his hand returned to the underside of her thigh and he lifted it, parting her legs. The blunt head of his erection pressed into her from behind. It was lewd and shocking, and when he pushed into her, stretching her open, it drew a harsh gasp from her open mouth.

  “This is what you needed?” He paused.

  “Yes,” she cried out. “Yes, yes, yes!”

  “Then you shall have it.” Thrusting deep and hard, he claimed her.

  Chloris panted, her breath caught on the extreme rush of pleasure being filled by him brought about. Then he lifted her upper thigh, drawing it up and toward her chest, grinding deeper still. Her body flamed.

  He rode her hard, and her body welcomed it. Dizzy with sensation her emotions soared, her entire body carried on it.

  “Oh, yes,” he breathed, “your body clutches me in welcome. You could not deny this and I did not want you to.”

  She pressed her lips together.

  He thrust harder and faster, working his way in and out. Her hips moved of their own accord, taking every thrust, meeting him.

  Then she felt the head of his cock brushing her center, loosing hot tides of pleasure that reached her womb and beyond. Cries of ecstasy escaped her, and she gulped them back. Her core rippled around his length. It was as if she lifted from the ground, so intense was her pleasure. Hot fluid sluiced the tops of her thighs.

  His rod grew harder still and she squirmed, for she was so sensitive it was almost too much. He whispered her name in a tormented tone, pulling free as he spilled his seed.

  The power of the shared moment stunned her and Chloris trembled, inside and out. What have I done? Once again, she asked herself that question. It was as if she was spinning out of control, as if his spell had led her to the brink of madness and beyond.

  But even though she knew the consequences were many, Chloris could not bring herself to regret it—not then, not when his arm stole around her and he held her close, whispering words of affection and praise to her as he caressed her—for it was the closest thing to love that she had ever known.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Chloris had never known such intense pleasure.

  Or such overwhelming guilt.

  She sat at breakfast the following day, barely aware of the voices around her until the children came in. Tam and Rab scuffled amongst themselves, until their father lifted his head and peered at them. Chloris watched the two young lads, and their innocent young faces con
fused her all the more. Remorse filled her. She’d been weak. She had succumbed, even though she had promised herself she wouldn’t.

  Not only that, but she had agreed to meet Lennox again that very morning. Torn between desire and remorse, she could not go to him. Why not? Wasn’t it what her closest friends had suggested she do, take a lover? She had nothing to lose. Chloris Keavey was nothing but a burden to all around her, and that had been the situation since her family was taken by the cough. It weighed heavily upon her, and providing her husband with an heir was the only thing that would make any difference to her life.

  Worthless and wretched, she had gone to Lennox in a desperate effort to find her meaning in life. The truth of it was that she was only in Gavin’s way, she was stopping him getting what he wanted—someone else. If this magic of Lennox’s didn’t work she might as well be dead. However, if it did work and she bore Gavin’s child, her life would be little better than death. Now she saw that—now she admitted it to herself. Only because she’d been offered a taste of something illicit—passion, unbridled passion, a few precious moments of pleasure—something that she could savor forever to carry her through the bad times.

  Perhaps enough ritual had been undertaken, and she would be fertile for Gavin.

  Meanwhile, she could not risk succumbing to Master Lennox’s charms again.

  Resolving to put an end to it and never see him again, she felt more clearheaded. Until a sense of loss quickly assaulted her. Steeling herself, she made plans to send a message with Maura Dunbar, informing Master Lennox that she would no longer be pursuing the matter they had discussed.

  Once the boys had been taken away by their nursemaid, Jean cleared her throat. “Husband, cousin, I have some news to share.”

  Both Chloris and Tamhas looked her way.

  “The midwife has confirmed it. I am with child once more. A girl, I hope.”

  Tamhas patted her hand. “Another son would be better.”

  “Oh, Tamhas, have pity on me. I need a daughter. Otherwise I will be an old woman alone in a house full of men.”

  Tamhas mumbled incoherently.

  Chloris watched the exchange as if from above or beyond, and for a moment forgot her place. When Jean looked her way expectantly, smiling as she did, Chloris nodded. “That is wonderful news, you are much blessed.”

  Shortly afterward Tamhas went to his study to receive the tenants who were due to call on him that day. Once he had gone, Jean pushed back her chair.

  “I hope my news does not upset you, cousin.” Jean rose from her seat and skirted the table. She pulled Tamhas’s abandoned chair closer to Chloris and sat down by her side. “I am aware it might be a sensitive matter, given that you have no child of your own...as yet.”

  Chloris shook her head. “It is joyous news, I am happy for you.”

  “Thank you, cousin.” Jean rested her hand briefly on Chloris’s forearm.

  Chloris was plagued by an altogether different question. While Jean chattered on about when the baby might be due to arrive, Chloris studied her. Had she succumbed to the Witch Master’s seductive ways? Is that why she was so fertile? The question refused to go away.

  “Listen to me rattling on,” Jean said, “when I am sure you have more sensible things to occupy your time.”

  Given Jean’s current loquaciousness, Chloris could not keep her curiosity in check. “No, I am interested in every detail. I am also curious, have you ever sought guidance on the subject of falling pregnant?”

  Jean looked startled, then smiled. “Oh, I see why you might ask that. No, I have been lucky. You will be lucky, too, soon. God willing.”

  Chloris noticed that her smile was somewhat trite. The curiosity still lingered. “Can I trust you with a delicate question?”

  Jean nodded.

  “The man who we saw in the market in Saint Andrews, the one who you said dabbles in witchcraft...”

  Without hesitation, Jean answered. “Lennox Fingal.”

  “Do you know if they, the witches, can influence a woman’s fertility?” It was not the question Chloris wanted to ask, but she was edging closer to it.

  Jean studied her for a short while before responding. “You must not entertain such a notion. The man is dangerous.”

  How curious. Yet Chloris knew Lennox had been in the house at Jean’s behest. Had he seduced her, too? “How can you be sure that he is dangerous?”

  Jean stiffened.

  “I am most eager to please Gavin, you see,” Chloris added, in explanation, “to provide him with an heir.”

  Jean considered her comment then leaned closer as if she suspected her servants might overhear the conversation. “That is not the way. Lennox Fingal would prey upon your...womanly needs.”

  A chill crept over Chloris. It was too close to what had actually happened.

  “He would use you and taint you forever if you sought his help.”

  For a moment Chloris was unable to speak, and then she forced herself on. “Has he done this to you?” When Jean flinched, she added quickly, “Or someone you know?”

  Jeans lips tightened. “Thankfully not to me.” She sighed deeply. “I confess I came close to falling under his spell a long time ago, but his eyes were set on a much bigger prize.” There was bitterness in her response. That alone answered one question—Jean had wanted him, would have given herself to him, but it hadn’t happened.

  “That woman, however,” Jean continued, “never regained her reputation after she was bedded by him. Nor did her husband for letting her stray.”

  Never regained her reputation. The comment shouldn’t have bothered Chloris, because Lennox had gone to such lengths to keep their meetings secret, but bother her it did. I must end it. Now.

  Jean frowned. “Promise me you will not consider such a desperate act.”

  It was hard to force a smile, but force it she did.

  Jean’s mouth twitched at one corner and for the briefest moment Chloris sensed jealousy in her. Surely not? Jean had so much and seemed happy. Could it be that she was so enamored with Lennox that she begrudged Chloris’s ability to seek him out, if she chose to?

  “Good. Now I must supervise the household or nothing will get done.” Jean rose to her feet, then hesitated. “I hope it is not my own happy news that has set you thinking such wild, desperate thoughts about that rogue and his barbarian ways.”

  Chloris felt strangely adrift. The conversation had enlightened her, but Jean’s parting words were oddly barbed. Barbarian ways? He was wild hearted, that was true, but she had never encountered a man who deserved that slur less than he did. Am I bewitched? The wild urge to laugh hit her. Even if he was bewitching her, she still knew charm when she encountered it, and there was no denying the Witch Master’s charm. Rising to her feet, she shook her head. “No, it is not your happy news, rest assured.”

  When Jean left Chloris felt oddly wistful. Had her instincts been in charge she would be running out to the stable to fetch a horse to ride into the forest. Luckily she was keeping a check on those instincts—barely, but she was. Instead she went to her room to fetch her mahogany inlaid writing box. It was time to bring order to her life once more. She carried the box downstairs to the drawing room.

  The drawing room desk was conveniently positioned in a bay window overlooking the terraced gardens. She set her writing box on the desk and placed her reticule nearby. Taking up her seat she opened the box—a gift from a dear friend and neighbor at home in Edinburgh—and arranged its contents carefully, opening the ink well and readying the quill. She would write to him immediately, calling an end to their clandestine meetings.

  She placed the blotting pad to one side and dusted off the leather-covered writing slope before repositioning the sheet of parchment on it. Turning away, she stared out at the gardens, admiring the luscious shades of green within her field of vision. But as she gazed, she suddenly remembered that it was that very place he had paced across to visit her in secret. Chloris stared out at the gardens, picturing it a
gain. What a striking figure he had made, and how fast it made her blood pump, the sight of him on his way to her.

  But it was wrong, and she had to end it.

  Write to him and be done with it, she told herself, and forced her quill to the page.

  Master Lennox

  I write to you first with an apology that I did not attend the meeting you kindly arranged for us this morning. I am most grateful for your efforts regarding my malady. However, I feel I will not be able to pursue the matter further. Therefore I am canceling the ongoing arrangement forthwith.

  That you have engendered change in me is undeniable, and I am most grateful. I will remember your efforts to help me most fondly.

  Chloris

  Chloris stared down at the page and gave a rueful smile.

  She would indeed remember his efforts fondly, more than fondly. She had the feeling they would keep her warm on many a cold night. She had attempted to state her case plainly and politely in the brief note. Yet when she read back over it, it sounded like some sort of jest, made so by its understatement about the powerful, unforgettable encounters she’d had with him.

  Sighing deeply she put down her quill and reached for the blotter. Pressing the wooden roller firmly over the parchment, she told herself once again it was for the best. And she was grateful, she just could not trust herself to let it go further, especially in the light of Jean’s comments. She had already sinned, and now she must force herself back to the more honorable path, no matter how hard it was to resist such an amorous lover who was so readily available to her.

  She folded the parchment, sealed it with wax and set it aside.

  Outside, a sound drew her attention. She caught sight of young Rab racing down the terrace with Tam close behind. Their nursemaid was also in tow, hitching up her skirts as she attempted to catch them. Chloris smiled then stared down at the letter she had begun to write the day before.