The Libertine by Saskia Walker Read Free Book Online Page A

he so rightly pointed out—she had sought him out. To her
right side waves of laughter and jeering emanated from the area of the argument,
the onlookers relishing the entertainment. Flustered and guilty, Chloris tried
to catch sight of her cousin’s wife, her heart racing while Jean’s word of
warning flitted through her mind—his notorious reputation with women, his
dissolute ways, the rumors about dark beliefs.
    When she looked back again, he was gone.
    How did he disappear from view so quickly? While Chloris
wondered on it she felt something tickle across the back of her neck.
Instinctively, she reached back to brush the loose strands of hair away from her
nape. Her body tensed. It wasn’t her hair. It was him. His breath on her,
followed by the briefest touch of his mouth on her skin.
    Even before she glanced over her shoulder, she knew it was
him.
    A hand rested briefly on her waist, as if to reassure her.
    His face was so close to hers that when she looked back at him,
her legs grew weak. Dangerously handsome and so willful, he was all but pressed
against her back.
    “Careful,” he whispered close to her ear. “Look toward your
hostess while I speak to you.”
    From the corner of her eye she saw that he nodded over at Jean.
Chloris did as he said, her senses reeling from his presence so close against
her back. It made her entire body tingle, her skin racing, her nerves alive and
chaotic.
    “You look very beautiful today, Mistress Chloris. If I might be
so bold to mention it.”
    Him making bold enough to comment on her appearance? Chloris
withheld a smile. The man was bold in every way. A whispered comment was the
least of it. But his hand remained on her waist, and it felt as if he was
claiming her through that simple touch. She almost felt him scooping her up,
walking away with her in his arms while everyone stared the other way. The wild
notion shocked her. Where had it come from, and why did it make her want it to
happen? Her vision blurred. She blinked, forcing herself to look as if she were
watching the squabble unfolding before them. It was difficult because she could
feel him, his hand at her waist, his legs against her skirts and his breath on
her skin.
    “Have you thought about our discussion?”
    She had thought of little else, but she couldn’t admit that. To
tell a man like him such a thing would empower him. Yet Chloris could not deny
the arousing charge she experienced with him so close at her back, whispering to
her, while all around were oblivious to their secret connection. It was madness
but it was a delicious diversion all the same.
    She turned her head slightly, to be sure he heard her whispered
reply. “I have. However, I am afraid it is not wise for me to come to you again,
because my hosts would disapprove.”
    “Your cousin Tamhas Keavey?” He gave a low chuckle.
    She pursed her lips. She had not stated her family name the
night before, yet he knew it. A man like him would have ways of finding out
exactly who she was, she supposed.
    “If you are afraid to come to Somerled,” he continued, “I could
come to you in secret. It would be less dangerous for you.”
    Chloris was astonished by his suggestion. “How? At Torquil
House?”
    That sounded even more dangerous. Perhaps that was his way,
though—to court danger to amuse himself.
    “I could easily come to you in the night. I know the lay of the
place. It would be possible.”
    Chloris felt light-headed. An image of him in her private
chamber drifted through her mind. Him, approaching her. Him, touching her again.
Her grasp on her surroundings was slipping away as she considered his words.
“For the ritual you described?” she murmured.
    “Of course. Why else?”
    Was that amusement she heard in his voice again?
    “You would be more comfortable in your quarters,” he added. He
ran one finger down her spine from her hairline to where her gown began,
reminding her of what he had said about laying hands on her.
    Her head