The Libertine

by Saskia Walker

  Chloris did not believe he could be faithful to one woman—even though he had begged her to believe it—not after the life he had led. All of it filled her with uncertainty. She barely knew the man. And yet I know I love him.

  The door sprang open.

  Chloris’s book fell to her lap. Seeing Tamhas at the door, she rose to her feet, closing her book and laying it aside.

  Tamhas walked into the room slowly and then paused and scrutinized her.

  Heat rushed to her face. It was as if he knew the matter she had been contemplating. She urged the thought away, blaming the odd notion on her state of indecision. “Cousin?”

  “I have a letter for you.” He gestured with a sheet of folded parchment, flicking it in his hand. Then he sauntered over, slowly, never once taking his eyes off her.

  “Oh. Thank you for bringing it to me. That was not necessary.” She frowned. Was it from Gavin? He had not written to her at all, but then she didn’t expect him to. Moreover, something in Tamhas’s stance and the way he regarded her so closely made her uneasy.

  “Ah, but it is necessary, for I am eager to share it with you.” He held out the folded page.

  Chloris took it.

  The handwriting was not familiar. She turned it over to break the wax seal. Her mouth went dry when she realized that had already been done. Tamhas had read it. Discomfort filled her, but why? Urging herself not to pause nor meet his gaze, she opened it and read.

  Mistress Chloris.

  I long to hear your answer, but I will not be able to meet you as planned. Forgive me. Word has reached me of my kin. I will contact you again when I return. The hope that you will agree to our arrangement will sustain me. Until then, I remain devoted to you,

  Lennox.

  The handwriting was not familiar because he had not written to her before.

  Now Tamhas had read it. Tamhas knew that there was something between her and Lennox. The consequences let loose in her mind, filling her with horror.

  Chloris folded the page with trembling fingers. “You read my letter.”

  Latching onto that injustice, she clung to it. Nausea made her feel quite unsteady, but she knew she must be brave.

  The room was deadly silent, the tension between her and her cousin sapping it of air. When she lifted her chin and looked at Tamhas, he folded his arms across his chest expectantly. “I did. Would you care to explain its contents to me?”

  Sarcasm dripped heavily from his words.

  “I went to Somerled in the hope of a cure.” It was the truth.

  “A cure?”

  “I am barren. I wish to bear my husband a child.”

  Tamhas inhaled loudly then snorted a laugh. “You wanted a child, so you went to Lennox Fingal.”

  Chloris bristled. “That was not the way of it.”

  “And yet the letter suggests a fair degree of intimacy, would you not agree?”

  “I know you do not approve of their kind, but I went because I was desperate for help. Master Lennox offered to undertake the rituals himself, that is why he has written to me about a meeting.”

  “Rituals?”

  “Magic.” Her face was aflame, but she met his gaze. “A spell to make me fertile.”

  Tamhas regarded her with a scathing glance. “Please do not insult my intelligence, dear cousin.”

  His tone had turned threatening.

  Chloris swallowed, for she realized that no amount of explanation for her original intentions was going to make it any easier. She wasn’t afraid for herself, however. It was Lennox and his people that she was afraid for. She’d heard Tamhas rant about them often enough to know her connection to them must stay secret, for it would only fuel a fire he had well stoked in his soul—the funeral pyre he wanted for Lennox and his people. Chloris had often dwelled upon the danger of Lennox visiting her here in Torquil House. Never once did she imagine the truth would come out this way.

  Tamhas unfolded his arms, then paced from side to side, occasionally running his finger over items of furniture as he passed as if examining them. It was almost as though he was enjoying her discomfort.

  Chloris considered the doorway. That would only serve to anger him all the more. She had to make use of this moment to do all she could to deflect his attention from those at Somerled.

  “Tamhas, I only went to them hoping that it might help...and they did not harm me. You should not shun them so.”

  “Why so concerned for them, cousin of mine?” His eyes narrowed and he studied her intently. “I’m beginning to wonder if there wasn’t more to it.” His expression grew angrier still. “You let that heathen beguile you, didn’t you?”

  There was nothing she could say in response to that.

  In his eyes she was disgraced.

  In her heart, she knew with certainty that she loved Lennox.

  No one could taint him in her eyes. She also saw with more certainty than ever that it could never be because people would not allow it, because they were so different.

  Tamhas lunged at her.

  She turned away but he arrested her from behind before she ran, holding her with his hands around her shoulders, his face close against her ear as he pulled her back against him. “You could have been mistress here,” he said low against her ear, his voice seething with rage, “I offered you that.”

  He moved one hand to her throat, where he stroked her.

  The way he acted chilled her. “You’re my cousin and my guardian, it did not seem right.” She tried to remain calm and not inflame him further.

  His palm was clammy against her skin, his fingers shaking with withheld emotions, dark emotions. “Yet you let him touch you, didn’t you?”

  She closed her eyes, reaching for the right thing to say. “I am grateful for your protection, and for the good marriage you arranged for me.”

  When she mentioned her marriage he shoved her away from him.

  Chloris gripped the back of a chair to save herself from toppling over.

  “If you are so grateful,” he spat, “you would not have risked bringing shame on our family. If this is made public my good reputation will be ruined.”

  Turning to him, she shook her head. “I had already brought shame on my husband because I am barren. I was trying to right that wrong.”

  He looked at her in disgust. “Go back to Edinburgh, Chloris. You’re a fool and I will not let you ruin my good standing in Saint Andrews.”

  It would harm him if it came out, she saw that. Would it work in her favor? “I will go, but on one condition, that you leave them alone, the people at Somerled.”

  Tamhas stared at her, his expression filled with disbelief. “You attempt to bargain with me, you ignorant woman?”

  Every part of her wanted to run away from him, for there was madness in his eyes, but Chloris strived to contain her doubts, drawing strength from her convictions. She met his gaze levelly, determined to face him. “If you do not agree, I will stay here and I will tell Jean that it was me you wanted. See how long she stays loyal to you when she knows you tried to bed your own cousin on the very day she announced she was pregnant with your third child.”

  It was something she could never do, but it was her only bargaining tool.

  It was also a great risk. He could laugh in her face, she wouldn’t be surprised.

  He did not. Instead he looked at her warily and with mistrust.

  Chloris tried to get the measure of him. He was angry, and she had seen too much of anger in men’s eyes.

  “Make ready to leave at dawn,” he muttered. “The carriage will be waiting to take you back where you belong. Do not attempt to leave your room until then, your food will be sent up.”

  Chloris nodded, turned away and walked as fast as her legs would carry her. She would return to Edinburgh because she had to. It was not where she belonged, not anymore. But she would do it to protect Lennox.

  As she rounded the door she saw that Maura, the serving girl, waited outside in the shadows, observing the doorwa
y.

  When Maura saw that it was Chloris and not Master Tamhas, Maura emerged and ran to her. “I’m sorry, mistress,” she whispered. “I tried, but he took the letter.”

  Chloris took the girl’s arm, comforting her while encouraging her to move on. “Hush, it is not your fault. Come, help me prepare to leave.”

  Maura looked woebegone.

  “It is for the best,” Chloris added, “for everyone.”

  That was the truth.

  It was only her misguided heart that made her feel so wretched about it.

  * * *

  Jean appeared fretful.

  Tamhas knew why, but he did not want to discuss the matter.

  Then she gestured to the serving girl, who stood by awaiting Jean’s instruction to serve dinner. “Please could you go upstairs and rouse Mistress Chloris, I fear she must be unwell because she has not come to dinner.”

  “That will not be necessary,” Tamhas replied. He’d assumed that Jean would have found out from one of the servants, but apparently no one wanted to share the gossip with the mistress of the house.

  Jean frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Tamhas signaled at the serving girl, indicating she should leave. “Chloris will not be joining us because she is returning to Edinburgh in the morning.”

  Jean sat back in her chair. “I had no idea. Why has she made the decision so suddenly?”

  His wife appeared to have grown fond of his cousin. Well, it was too late now, their friendship would not flourish. “I ordered her to be gone.”

  Jean looked aghast.

  “I’m afraid Cousin Chloris has abused my trust.”

  Jean stared at him, her brow furrowed.

  “Don’t breathe a word of it to anybody, but I intercepted a letter from that scoundrel, the Witch Master. It was quite obvious from the contents of the letter and Chloris’s reaction that they had been meeting.”

  Jean turned quite pale.

  “It is almost as if she has done this to provoke me. She knows what I think of them.”

  “I warned her,” she said. “I told her that no woman was safe in his company.”

  Tamhas studied his wife carefully. Had she known anything about the affair? “The morning rides she took, did she ever speak to you of them?”

  “Only that they invigorated her.” Jean’s cheeks flushed when she realized what she had said.

  Tamhas gave her a warning glance. “You had no suspicion?”

  Jean shook her head. “No. I was very careful to warn her because I myself found him a most intimidating personage.” She paused and her eyes flickered, as if she regretted what she’d said. “So it is unlikely that she would have confided in me.”

  She looked away.

  Tamhas sensed her discomfort. What had she let slip? “Whatever do you mean you found him an intimidating personage?”

  “I misspoke, husband.” She could not look his way, which only confirmed her guilt.

  Tamhas rose to his feet, his blood boiling. “Tell me, or I’ll beat it out of you, bairn or no bairn.”

  Jean lifted her gaze to meet his, terrified, as well she should be. “When I first came here, I encountered him. I spoke with him awhile, that is all.”

  The door opened, and the serving girl carried in a platter of food.

  “Get out,” he shouted.

  The girl scurried off.

  Tamhas returned his attention to his wife, who was now cowering in her chair. “I meet with the bailiff tomorrow to discuss ousting them. Before I do so you will tell me exactly what happened, and when.”

  Jean hung her head. “I invited him here, many years ago, to see to the ghost that lingers in the west wing.”

  “Did you let him touch you?”

  “No, I promise you, I did not.”

  “Continue, tell me everything.”

  Tamhas pressed his lips together and forced himself to listen to every detail of her silly tale, even though he wanted to silence her, for it only reinforced his determination to see Lennox Fingal destroyed.

  When she finished he let her sit in silence for a while, as punishment.

  “We will never speak of this again, and there will be no need to.” When she lifted her head to meet his gaze, he continued. “I intend to burn the vermin out of Fife myself.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The long boat creaked as it crossed the gray, shifting waters of the Tay.

  Restless and uneasy, Lennox peered across the expanse of water at Dundee. It was not a place he was familiar with, but he knew of its dark history. A busy port, the walled city had been the site of many battles. He’d heard tell of how it was thoroughly bombarded by the English navy from the sea, and then crippled again during Cromwell’s civil war on the land. There hadn’t been a witch trial there for many a year now, though, and Lennox could scarcely bear to contemplate the fact that it could be his own sister who would suffer the same fate as those who went before.

  If she hadn’t already been put to death.

  He clenched his hands together and bowed his head, willing it not to be so.

  “’Tis a good day to be doing trade in Dundee, sire.” The ferryman stood alongside the narrow wooden seat where Lennox sat while they crossed the water, leaving his two scrawny young oarsmen to do the hard work.

  The day did not look promising at all, neither was Lennox in the mood for a genial chat. As he was the only passenger, he didn’t have a choice. The ferryman had stationed himself beside Lennox. His feet were widely placed, his stance easily managing the currents as they crossed the estuary.

  Lennox mustered an appropriate response. “That it is.”

  Lennox scarcely listened as the man meandered on about the weather.

  “Take care when you’re in Dundee, sire,” the ferryman said, eventually nudging Lennox’s shoulder in order to get his attention.

  Lennox lifted his head just enough to look at the ferryman from beneath his hat. “Why so?”

  “There are witches about.” The man raised his woolly eyebrows dramatically.

  Lennox attempted to look disturbed by the suggestion. “Witches you say?”

  “Aye, they captured one of them last week. A woman it was.”

  The nature of the conversation did little to quell Lennox’s impatience. Bracing himself, he forced himself to ask the most difficult question of all. “Have they tried her?”

  The ferryman shook his head. “They didn’t have the chance. The vixen escaped their clutches and disappeared.” He fluttered his fingertips. “Away into the night she went.”

  Lennox stared up at the man. Escaped? Could it be true, that Jessie had slipped from their fingers and was free once again? He considered his response, measuring his words carefully before he spoke. “You mean she is free and walking amongst us, the witch?”

  “Closer than you might think.” The ferryman leaned down and lowered his voice to a whisper. “She passed this way. Innocent of that I was, but she sat upon this very boat four nights since.” He jerked his head back, indicating that she had gone toward Fife, from whence Lennox had come.

  Lennox grappled with the information, looking back across the stretch of water they had already covered, fighting the urge to order the man to turn his boat about. It would draw suspicion if he did. Besides, four days or more had passed. She would be long gone. “One woman?”

  The man nodded.

  What of Maisie? “You think she’s loose in Fife now?”

  The ferryman—who obviously assumed Lennox’s interest was based in fear or wariness—gave him a lopsided smile. “She could be anywhere by now, spreading her evil ways.”

  Was Maisie still in Dundee? Lennox had to be sure.

  The burden he carried began to feel a mite less crushing, however. Jessie had escaped and was traveling in Fife, on land that was more familiar to him than Dundee. He stood a chance of finding her. On his return he could send his people to the villages to seek out word of a stranger who had passed that way. Tomorrow. In the meantime,
he would find out what he could of Maisie in Dundee.

  Hope fired his blood. Jessie was free. Maisie was likely in hiding. He would not rest until he found them both, but he breathed a bit easier than he had in the hours since Lachie and Glenna told him that Jessie had been captured by the bailiff of Dundee.

  “Shrouded in a heavy shawl she was,” the ferryman continued, “so I could not see her face.” The boat was nearing the shore. As the ferryman straightened up he marked himself with the sign of the cross. “Thank the Lord I was protected that night when I carried evil across the Tay into Fife.”

  Lennox stared at the man, trying to reconcile—as he always did—the image of evil and what most of them honestly were, curers, healers. They would protect themselves by magic if they had to, of course, and the lure of greater power turned one or two bad. But in the main they were peaceful people. They did not deserve the brutal, vile treatment they received when they were called out.

  It brought about a deep sense of bitterness in Lennox, a sense of injustice and anger that was rooted deeply in his character. Despite his will to be accepted and be allowed to uphold their beliefs, his thoughts did sometimes turn dark. If their persecutors were not careful, those who practiced the old craft would rise up as one and wreak havoc. He had the capability to become what they said he was, and sometimes it was so close to the surface that he knew it was a necessity to gather his brethren and head to the Highlands before he became everything they feared. Most of all it was the fact he had found Chloris—whom he loved—that now gave him the strength to endure and move on.

  The boat thudded heavily against the narrow wooden jetty. The ferryman reached out for a sodden rope that was piled on the end of the landing point and used it to haul his vessel in alongside the jetty.

  “Thank you for safe passage, good man.” Lennox rose to his feet, fished the requisite fee out of his pocket and handed the coins over. “I will be availing myself of your services to return to Fife on the morrow.”