Into the Woods Read Free Page B

she wrinkled her nose, her eyes told too much. Her manner of dress was unconventional, but the skirt and plain blouse she wore showed off a shapely, uncorseted figure. Her hairstyle, those golden braids, while definitely not the height of fashion, suited her. She had a face like a pixie, and pigtails to match. Yes, she belonged in this strange room as much as her grandmother had, was an integral part of its charm.
    "Miss Candy," he said in answer to a question he felt was unspoken between them, his voice stern. "I do not believe in witchcraft."
    She lifted her eyebrows again, pinning glittering, amused green and blue eyes on him. He was surprised she didn't out-and-out laugh.
    "Then why are you here?"
    "Because I believe your grandmother had a gift." He reached within himself for patience, which was never easy. When he wanted something he wanted it done without unnecessary explanations!
    Her smile faded, and he wondered if he'd said something wrong.
    "Call it a talent or a skill, if you like," he said tersely. "Whatever you call it, the fact remains that she knew more about herbs and natural cures than anyone I've ever met or even heard of. If there was a way to make a woman turn her attentions to a particular man, a powder or a pill or a..."
    "Potion," she finished as he faltered.
    "Yes. Perhaps there are notes in one of these books." He pointed to the nearest shelf, wagging one impatient finger.
    "I don't have time to..."
    "I'll pay you well for your time," he said before she could refuse him again. He had money to spare, and any knowledge that the old Matilda Candy might have gleaned would surely be worth having as an ace in the hole. "Whether you find what I'm looking for or not, I'll make it worth your while, I promise."
    Her strange and beautiful eyes no longer twinkled with amusement. They were dead serious as she stared up at him, studying him as blatantly as he had studied her earlier. She scrutinized him as if she expected to find answers on his face.
    "Mr. Harper," she finally said, her voice low and calm. "There's no such thing as a love potion. There's no magical recipe I can concoct that will affect the workings of the heart. My granny taught me that much."
    His little bit of patience fled. "But..."
    She held up a small hand to silence his protests. "However, I might be able to find something in the way of an aphrodisiac that will meet your particular needs."
    "An aphrodisiac."
    "A tonic that will—"
    "I know what an aphrodisiac is, Miss Candy."
    She smiled again, but without the withheld amusement. "A lust potion. Will that work?"
    He considered the possibility. In truth he didn't care why Vanessa Arrington agreed to marry him, only that she did. He had no qualms about doing whatever was necessary to achieve his goals.
    "How can I be sure this potion will be, ummm, guided in the proper direction?"
    "You want to make sure this woman's attentions turn to you and not to just any man, is that it?"
    "Yes."
    He could see a bright curiosity light Matilda Candy's eyes, as he saw the way she fought back the urge to smile and ask him outright who his intended victim—recipient was a better word, he decided quickly—would be.
    "Be present when she takes it," Matilda said sensibly. "Stay with her until the aphrodisiac takes effect." She glanced at the books on a far shelf. "This is, of course, assuming I can find something that will work properly."
    Declan felt a rush of great relief, as if he'd handed his problem of how to deal with Vanessa to someone else. Of course, he'd always found it wise to delegate those chores he found distasteful.
    "When do you think you might have this aphrodisiac ready for me?"
    "Come back on Monday." Matilda walked to the door and opened it for him, signaling, without question, that their visit was over. "After dark," she added in a low voice as he passed. "I'm much too busy during the day to devote much time to your... special project."
    "Thank you," he said as he stepped through the door.