Dearest Gavin.
It was so hard. Every time she tried, her thoughts drifted. First into guilty admission of her infidelity, then further, into breathless remembering of each and every forbidden touch, each kiss, each thrust.
Forcing herself to concentrate on the letter, she reminded herself that this was a small task, one that she had undertaken many times before. Usually she would tell him of her activities, but she could not tell him or anybody of what she had done these past three days. Prior to that she had written to Gavin twice a week since she had come to her cousin’s home in Saint Andrews. At first it had been a reasonably pleasant task to reassure him of her increasingly robust health and query after his trade in Edinburgh. Gavin did not reply, but she felt it was part of her wifely duties to keep him informed of her well-being, in order to reassure him of her health and, more specifically, her ability to bear him a child.
It was never an easy task. Any manner of communication with Gavin was fraught, painful and dangerous, but putting ink on the page was easier than sitting through a dinner with him, knowing what would follow.
For some reason she found it harder than ever.
Was it the guilt?
She put down her quill and sat back in the chair. She had allowed a man who was not her husband to be intimate with her, to touch her in ways that would be considered shocking. Her motives had been genuine, and although there had been pleasure in it—pleasure such as she had never known—she had honestly pursued the endeavor for the sake of her marriage.
I do feel guilty, though, because I enjoyed his touch.
Chloris never allowed herself to shy from the truth for long. She did not consider herself brave, but she was honest with herself. She believed her most reliable characteristic was the ability to endure. Her failure as a woman made her more timid than she might have been otherwise. For that she mourned. She saw women who managed their position so much better than she did, but it was her failure to fulfill the basic duty of a wife that crippled her will and her spirit.
Staring at the gardens with unseeing eyes, she considered her position. She had come here to Saint Andrews for a reprieve. That was all it was, in truth. A reprieve from Gavin’s torments, so that she could return and face it with more tenacity, willing herself all the while to fulfill her obligations to him. Gavin had suggested it, she was not sure why, but she had grasped the chance for time to heal, to breathe. But distance had only made her more aware of her pitiful existence.
When she’d gone to Somerled she’d hoped for help. The wildest hope had been for some miracle, the more realistic hope had been for some sage advice—perhaps a whispered method of holding her husband’s seed inside her long enough that it would bed and flourish. Instead she’d been set on a different, unknown path, and now Chloris felt as if a closed door had been flung open to her, a door she had not even been aware of before.
It does not mean it is right.
No. She was at risk of being disloyal again, and she was dabbling in matters that she did not fully understand, matters that most God-fearing folk would turn away from in fear. Other women had been ruined by him. She knew that now but still she could not force the desire away. Was it hope, foolhardiness or sheer contrariness that pushed her to it?
Witches. She covered her eyes with her hands, but it only took her back to the moment when he had pulled off her glove that first evening, and touched her palm. Thirty years old she was and weary of life, and that simple action on his part had been the most pleasurable, most sensuous thing she had ever experienced. She became vulnerable to him from that moment on and she knew it. She was greatly at risk of falling further under his influence. And she knew his kind were wild.
They had few boundaries when it came to pleasures of the flesh and he had not denied that when she confronted him about it. That was why their knowledge of such things was substantial. It made her want to turn away, to protect her reputation.
What reputation? It was shortly to be destroyed, along with any air of respectability, when her husband threw her out of their home for failing to bring him a child. To successfully carry her husband’s child was the nature of her quest. A quest that she had undertaken in desperation after failing to provide him with an heir.
It was their forbidden carnal knowledge and its inherent virility that she had gone there for. There was little doubt she had been well prepared. The rituals she had undergone had left her as supple, willing and eager as a spring sapling. Surely now she could bear her husband’s child? If not now, it would be never.
She picked up her quill.
My time in Fife has brought me robust health and I feel our dreams will be fulfilled soon.
She paused.
Why don’t you take a lover? Lennox’s words echoed through her mind, as they had ever since he had said them.
She was compelled to consider them over again, like some fascination that she could not separate herself from. Why hadn’t she taken a lover before? Why had she done so now? She thought herself a loyal wife, despite the difficulties she had survived under Gavin’s will and rule. There had been opportunities to take a lover in Edinburgh. Several female acquaintances had suggested it to her, in pity, and two men had even offered their services. Her female friends had informed her that women often did so when no child had been forthcoming from the marital bed. It was a chance some women took to redeem themselves. The idea had never been attractive to Chloris before. Not until she met Lennox Fingal.
“Begging your pardon, mistress.”
Chloris started in her seat, sitting bolt upright. Turning, she saw that Maura was standing just a few paces away. Chloris had been so far away in her thoughts that she had not even heard the girl enter the room. “Maura, good day.”
“Mistress.” Maura bobbed a curtsy, then came closer and lowered her voice. “Did you find Somerled?”
Chloris smiled at the young woman. She was a sweet girl with hair the color of chestnuts and freckles over her cheeks. “I did. Thank you, Maura. Your directions were most helpful.”
“I hope they were as good to you as they were to me.” Maura ducked her head. “My malady has all but vanished since I went up there.”
Chloris did not know what Maura’s malady was, but the girl’s positive comment made Chloris cling to the hope that she, too, would be affected by the magic rituals she had undergone. “That is very promising.”
They stared at one another, both curious about each other’s malady, but divided by class and privilege. They did not ask nor share. It had only been a moment’s madness that had inspired Chloris to interrupt Maura’s whispered discussion with another servant about the goings-on up at the house in the woods. She’d happened upon the two in the library and found herself compelled to listen to the discussion about magic and possibility.
“Would you do something for me, Maura?”
“Of course, mistress, if I am able.” There was a slightly wary look in her eyes.
“I need someone to take this letter to the master at Somerled. Can you do it for me?”
Maura looked at the folded page and nodded, apparently relieved that it was something she was able to do. She accepted the letter and tucked it into the pocket of her apron.
“Thank you, you’re a good girl.” Reaching across the desk Chloris picked up the leather pouch she kept her coins in and opened it. Retrieving several coins she pressed them into Maura’s hand. “Here, take this.”
“No, mistress, I cannot. If the master finds me with money he will think I have stolen it.” Maura glanced back over her shoulder at the doorway.
“Then tuck the coins in your undergarments and be quick about it. It is but a small thank-you for taking me into your confidence. I know you were afraid when I quizzed you about your discussion.”
Maura lifted up her skirts and tucked the coins into a pocket stitched into her petticoat. Not a moment too soon. Her skirts dropped into place just as the door was flung open and Tamhas entered the room.
Both women
tensed.
Chloris acted quickly. “Thank you, Maura, you may go about your chores.”
Maura bobbed a curtsy and scurried off.
Tamhas stood in silence for a moment, observing his cousin.
Chloris shifted the items on her writing box, and then smiled his way. “Your hearings have gone well this morning, cousin?”
“Well enough.” He made his way over to her, glancing down at the page she was writing on as he passed behind her. For a moment he stared out of the window at the gardens, and then he turned to her. “Jean has expressed concern. She tells me that you went riding alone early in the morning yesterday.” He assessed her as he spoke.
Chloris maintained her poise, but his questioning made her uneasy. “I found it most reviving. The spring air seems to improve my health.”
And the Witch Master. Why, oh, why could she not stop the thoughts spilling within her mind, images of the magical, passionate encounters that were making her health more robust.
He considered her at length. “You do look well, quite rosy-cheeked, in fact.”
The reason for the bloom in her was his lingering magic and passion, for she still felt Lennox’s hands on her, molding her to him as they coupled in the bluebell glen.
“Thank you, Tamhas. I am grateful that you allowed me to visit at this time.” Her voice faltered as she spoke. She hoped he would not notice her state of agitation.
Tamhas moved closer and perched on the desk where she was working. This had the unfortunate circumstance of bringing his torso far too close for comfort.
“I wondered if Jean’s fortuitous news might be an upsetting matter for you.”
Chloris was in the process of moving her chair back slightly when he made the comment, and jolted to a standstill, staring at him aghast. “Why, no, I am delighted for her. Despite the fact I have not been able to bear children myself, as yet, it does not mean that I resent others who have found it easier.”
Tamhas nodded, vaguely, and then he studied her figure at length as if he might determine the cause for her lack of fertility. His mouth moved into a rather lascivious smile. “Perhaps I can be of assistance?”
Chloris swallowed. His meaning was quite obvious, and it shocked her to the core. Tamhas was forthright, and he had made lewd enough suggestions to her before, when she was a young girl and his ward. That was when they were both unmarried, however, and over time she had dismissed his flirtatious approach as the jest of a young man. A man who found himself with wealth and power before he had developed the maturity to manage it.
Chloris attempted an appropriate response. “You are being of assistance, allowing me this time of recuperation here at Torquil House.”
“Come now, Chloris. Don’t be coy. You know I have always found you an attractive woman, and a fine mistress you would have made for this house.” A flicker of annoyance showed in his expression for a moment, forcing her to acknowledge his deeper motives. “I have sired three children with my wife now, and there are many more out there who could call me father.”
“I’m not sure you should be sharing such information with me, especially when I am growing close to Jean.”
Tamhas shrugged one shoulder. “Jean is content.” Again he studied her, his gaze lingering around her bosom. “I could make you content, too. In fact,” he added, “I’d put money on you accepting my seed well enough.”
Instinctively Chloris turned her face away from him, but he only seemed to see it as an opportunity to reach out and grasp her hand, making a physical connection with her that she did not want. He squeezed her hand, forcing her to look back at him.
“I have made an offer, consider it well, cousin.” The look in his eyes was cold. He was irritated because she had not immediately capitulated. “You might have better luck with a different lover. Most women in your situation would grasp any opportunity to fall pregnant. You are thirty years old and your husband will soon be seeking a more fruitful union elsewhere.”
Chloris was well aware of the truth in what he was saying to her, but still she smarted. It was not only that he was saying it aloud, it was his coldness in delivering the information. It also suddenly seemed as if everyone in the world was privy to her secret failures. Not only that but they were all too willing to comment freely on it, and that was not easy for her. With Lennox she had been compelled to open herself to him, but she had not invited this discussion with Tamhas. It made her even more wary of Tamhas than she already was.
“It would be better that such a union be with a well-to-do, upstanding man,” Tamhas continued, “someone who has your best interests at heart.”
Upstanding? What upstanding man would make such a suggestion under the very roof he shared with his wife?
It was difficult not to point out she understood him better than he realized. Tamhas could not afford to have her turned out or wandering in mind or body. She had been Tamhas’s ward until she turned marriageable age and she had been a canny investment for him. Her inheritance was substantial and what there was he split with her husband at the time of the marriage, and he still had an obligation to Gavin. No doubt he had been paid well by her husband to keep her away from Edinburgh for a period of time, and to return her in good health and ready to bear him a son. If Tamhas was to secretly father her child it merely secured her position as Gavin’s wife and therefore secured his dealings with Gavin.
Chloris had never felt more alone.
* * *
“Lennox, a letter has arrived for you.” Ailsa stood in the arched entrance of the old barns. Sunset was close and Lennox was toiling hard with the other men in the fading light, building the framework for a covered carriage. Since Master MacDougal had praised their talents and he had been given access to the council, several requests for their craftsmanship had already been received. Despite Keavey’s attempts to thwart him, and the delay for the guild, he had already begun to gain favor.
Lennox wiped his brow and set down his tools before striding over to take the letter from her. He examined the seal. He did not recognize it. “Who brought it?”
“Maura Dunbar carried it from the Keavey house.”
When he did not respond, Ailsa gave a labored sigh. “It will be from that Mistress Chloris, seeking you and your magic I don’t doubt.”
Ailsa had a sour look about her and Lennox thought twice about opening it immediately. “The men are still hard at work and will be until darkness falls. Will you bring them some ale?”
Ailsa scowled at him, folded her arms across her chest, but nevertheless turned on her heel and headed toward the house.
Lennox broke the seal on the letter and read the contents quickly.
It was indeed from Mistress Chloris, and he frowned heavily when he read her words. Undue concern had haunted him all day long, after she had not arrived in the forest as planned. His goal was to irritate Tamhas Keavey. Why then did he find himself fretting over Chloris, wondering what had happened to her? Eventually he had to assume she was waylaid on her plans for a morning ride and had to abandon it. Nevertheless, Lennox found himself concerned for her safety, which shouldn’t have been the case.
Now that he saw the real reason for her absence, Lennox found himself even more troubled by it. The more he thought on it, the more troubled he became. He wanted her again. The woman had got into his blood and he would not rest until he’d explored her at length. It was not the usual way of it, and he battled the urge to storm up to Torquil House and demand she reconsider.
What nonsense is this? he wondered. The woman had dismissed him. In all likelihood, that was the end of it.
Then he recalled the moment he saw the fear at the back of her eyes, and it had halted him in his tracks. Despite the fact she tried to hide it, she was vulnerable. Was she afraid now? Had someone made her send this note? Lennox could scarcely bear the thought of it. It is because of my lost sisters, he thought. If any man saw that fear in their eyes, he only hoped they would act on it, discover its cause and protect them.
&nb
sp; Battling his confused motives, he shoved the note in his pocket.
When Ailsa returned with a flagon of ale for the men, he scarcely acknowledged her. His mood turned dark. It wasn’t meant to end yet. In his blood, he knew that.
Such selfish motives could easily lead him into reckless behavior, and he could not shrug off the doubts he had about his own judgment. Nevertheless, after another hour’s work, he gave in to his instincts. When the men went inside for supper, Lennox went to the stable instead, saddled his horse and took the moonlit path across the glen to Torquil House.
For whatever reason, he could not fight the need to see the woman again.
CHAPTER NINE
The yearning that Chloris felt to see the Witch Master again was immense. It was a burden every bit as weighty as her guilt. Morbid thoughts crept up on her easily that evening, the realization that she might never see him again affecting her badly.
The dinner conversation did not help.
Tamhas rambled about council matters, occasionally making disparaging remarks about Lennox, which made her discomfort grow. Not only that, but his opinion of Lennox was so very low that she had to bite her tongue in order not to challenge her cousin. Lennox was by no means a perfect man, she was not foolish enough to believe that, but she felt her cousin did him a great disservice. Besides which, Tamhas was no saint, and each time he caught her attention there was an unwelcome intimacy there, a reminder of how untoward he’d been that very day.
It had been the same with Eithne, she recalled. Tamhas had an instant distrust of anyone who was attempting to heal others and provide comfort where there was none. He had listened to too many tales about those who practiced witchcraft and his mind was made up on the matter.
When she took her leave, Jean frowned.
“You look a little pale this evening,” Jean commented.
“I am well, do not concern yourself.”
Jean did not seem convinced. She rose to her feet and rested the back of her hand against Chloris’s cheek. “No fever. That is a relief. If you feel unwell you must tell me, we can arrange for the physician to call.”
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