Into the Woods (11 page)

"Of course," she whispered, very slowly rising up on her toes to bring her mouth closer to his. It wasn't enough to span the distance between them; he had to lower his head slightly to meet her.

It struck Matilda, moments before their lips met, that Declan was looking at her the way he'd looked at his meal earlier; as if he were starving and could never get enough.

Their lips touched, and she closed her eyes. Oh, the sensation was heavenly; warm and soft, thrilling and comforting. When he moved his lips over hers, she quivered to her very bones and her knees wobbled.

She reached up and laid her hand on the side of his head, lightly spearing her fingers through his hair. Her thumb rocked against his jaw, and she felt the stubble there, the roughness of his evening beard. She liked it... she liked it very much.

He circled an arm around her and held on tight, as if he knew her knees were about to give out. He was solid, and hot, and the way he kissed her... it was as if he were trying to devour her alive. He held her so she could feel his hard body pressed against hers, and the holding was wonderful, as wonderful as the continuing kiss.

Another arm stole around her, and Declan slowly lifted her. Her feet left the floor completely, and he inched her higher and higher until she no longer had to look up and he no longer had to lean down. They were face-to-face, lip to lip. Her arms encircled his neck and she held on tight, in case he should lose his grip and let her fall.

When she felt his tongue on her lower lip, she was so surprised that she gasped. He took the opportunity to slip that tongue into her mouth to tease her own. Heat suffused her body. Liquid heat pooled between her legs and thrummed with every beat of her heart.

She didn't want this kiss to end. Not ever. She rested a hand at the back of Declan's head and held him close, as she copied his bold move and slipped the tip of her tongue into his mouth. He tasted so good, so delicious.

He moaned deep in his throat, and she answered. She was so close to losing control... so close....

She slowly pulled her mouth from his. "I'd say it works even better than the first try."

"Maybe it works too well," he whispered, kissing her quickly and briefly, continuing to hold her tight.

She didn't want to say it, she didn't want to be the one to call an end to this moment. But if Declan felt anything like she did, and she suspected that was the case, it was definitely time to stop the kiss.

"Remember," she said softly, saddened by her words. "What we feel isn't real. It's the aphrodisiac. The candy. What we feel right now is not genuine."

He shook his head slowly and did not put her on her feet. "Damn, it sure enough feels real. As genuine as anything I can remember. I've never wanted anything in my life the way I want you now."

Matilda placed her hands on either side of his head. Declan was a big man, strong and hard, but she felt no fear. He would never hurt her. He would never take more than she offered. "You must put me down, now."

He feathered another kiss across her lips. "But I don't want to," he whispered. "Another kiss like the first one."

"No," she said as his mouth came to hers again. "We've proven that the power of the candy is real. Declan, we have to stop now. You have to go."

He didn't look inclined to obey, though he didn't try to kiss her again. Oh, his eyes, so dark and rich, they spoke to her of much more than another kiss.

"Remember Vanessa," she whispered.

His smile disappeared, and he placed her gently on her feet. He turned from her and raked his hands through his dark, short hair, clearly exasperated and searching for the control he claimed to possess. "Matilda, that potion should come with a warning. I don't think the world is ready for anything like this."

She collected the small box of powerful candies and offered it at the end of an outstretched arm. "If this doesn't work on Vanessa, nothing will."

She stood there with her latest creation on her palm, the aphrodisiac offered to Declan without visible reservation. But in her heart she knew he was right. The world was surely not ready for this. Why didn't he snatch the offering from her hand and go? Instead he looked down at her, staring so hard she could feel the force of his gaze. His hands clenched, unclenched, clenched again, as if he didn't quite know what to do with them.

Finally he took the tin and left by way of the back door, and before the reverberation of the slamming of that door had faded, Matilda remembered with regret that she still hadn't tasted Declan's neck.

* * *

If he waited too long, he'd likely change his mind. Yesterday's kiss, if indeed that's all it was, had stayed with him all night. The memory of Matilda had stayed with him all night as well. Right now it would be insanely easy to sacrifice all his plans and dreams for one night in Matilda Candy's bed.

He'd worked long and hard for this revenge, had dreamed of this day. Matilda had spoken once of purpose. Well, this was his purpose; his reason for living, his one goal in life.

Declan made himself remember the way Warren Arrington had made him feel, the way the man had insulted him, and his sisters, and his mother. The way the townspeople had turned their backs when Brenna Harper had found herself widowed and penniless. He tried to imagine the expressions on their faces when he owned them all and revealed who he really was.

Purposely drawing on the anger that had gotten him through many agonizing nights, Declan prepared himself for what was to come. He needed the anger inside to give him the strength to turn his back on what he wanted in order to take what he needed. Retribution.

He knocked resolutely on the Arringtons' front door. This courtship was an important step in realizing his plan. His plantation, once it was finished, would be the finest for a hundred miles. He'd be married to the most sought-after woman in the county. Respected and accepted, one of them, as Matilda said, he'd buy up businesses one by one until there was nothing left.

He waited in the parlor while a maid, one of many, went to inform Vanessa that she had a caller. He waited, and he waited, and he waited. With the small, cool tin box in his hands, he paced the floor. For a few minutes, he sat on the fine green sofa, but a deep restlessness wouldn't allow him to remain still for long, so he paced some more.

It was a good half hour before Vanessa appeared, perfectly coifed and dressed in a pale blue gown with small pearl buttons at the bodice. Pearls also adorned her slender throat and her earlobes. She smiled, and did not apologize for making him wait.

"What a lovely surprise," she said, offering him a seat on the sofa and placing herself beside him. "Did you come to see Daddy? I'm afraid he's gone for the day. Something about a horse in Rankin county that can't wait another day." She gave him a small, genteel, feminine smile.

"Actually, I came to see you," he said calmly. If only he could handle this transaction in a businesslike manner. Courtship was such a waste of time. He offered her the tin, hoping beyond hope that the contents would make short work of his courting days. "I brought you a small gift."

Her smile widened slightly, and her eyes sparkled as she took the small box. "Oh, how very sweet of you. I do love presents," she revealed in a lowered voice. She lifted the lid and looked into the box, and a small bit of the light in her eyes faded. "What is this?"

"Candy," Declan said. "A very wonderful, special candy."

Vanessa very carefully closed the lid. "I'm afraid I don't like sweets much." She returned the box to him. "I love pearls, though, and violets, and rubies...."

He sat there, stunned, as Vanessa listed all the things she liked best. His mother, who had spent her life as a simple farmer's daughter and a poor farmer's wife and then a servant, would be horrified at this lady's lack of decorum. His sisters would laugh out loud.

Once they were married, he'd have to teach this woman something about manners. Couldn't she at least pretend to be pleased? Oh, well, perhaps most rich, pampered ladies were spoiled, to some extent. Perhaps he should not be surprised by her reaction to the simple gift.

She gazed up at him with those violet eyes that were so gentle and radiant. God, what skin she had; so pale and creamy it looked as if it had never seen the sun. He wanted to touch it, to run his fingers over her cheek and see if it felt as soft as it looked.

And at the same time, he was terrified. Vanessa looked like a porcelain doll, not a woman to be touched. She looked as if she would never wrap her arms around a man's neck and kiss him for all she was worth. Sedate pecks on the cheek, perhaps. Delicate fingers offered for a chaste kiss. He saw tremendous beauty in Vanessa Arrington, but he saw no passion. For the first time, he wondered seriously if his plan was, perhaps, flawed.

He dismissed his reservations. Passion was not the hallmark of a lady. Gentility and refinement were what he wanted. Right?

* * *

Matilda worked at the long table in the main room, mashing and mixing the pomade ingredients with great vigor. Lavender, rose petals, bay leaves, and cloves filled the bottom of her largest bowl. She seemed to have lots of energy to spare today, lots of anxious, angry energy.

It was well after noon. Had Declan administered the candy aphrodisiac to Vanessa Arrington? What were they doing right now, right this very minute? She viciously worked the dried flowers and the hint of spice with a wooden spoon as she pondered the possibilities.

She was so lost in thought, the knock on her door made her jump. Very few people, but for Hanson and Gretchen, visited her during the daylight hours. And the children never knocked. They crept about and swiped candy and spied on her, but they did not knock at her door.

What if it's Declan? she thought with a leap of her heart. What if, once again, the potion had proven ineffective?

She left her bowl sitting on the table and went to open the door, and was surprised to see Vanessa Arrington herself standing there. Composed, serene, condescending Vanessa. There was no sign that she might've taken the candy, no flush of her cheeks or restlessness in her eyes. Perhaps tonight...

"Miss Arrington," Matilda said, surprise in her voice.

Vanessa didn't look directly at Matilda, but then she never did. Neither did she look directly at Mr. Fox, when Matilda saw her at the general store, or at her servants, like her driver, the still and diligent John Bowers who stood patiently behind her. She treated those around her with open disdain and disregard, and carried herself like a queen.

Declan's queen.

"Miss Candy," Vanessa said, looking to the room beyond. "If you have a moment, I have need of your services once again."

"Of course." Matilda stepped back and Vanessa swept into the room. Matilda gave John Bowers, who was two years older than she, a smile. They'd briefly attended Tanglewood's one-room schoolhouse together. Matilda's stay in that school had been short; she'd quickly grown tired of being taunted and teased because of her grandmother's reputation.

John had not been one of the children to taunt her, though, she remembered kindly. Vanessa probably would have, had she been given the opportunity, but she'd never set foot inside the Tanglewood schoolhouse. Private tutors had taught her, so that she would not have to rub shoulders with the common folk.

John was handsome and, from what Matilda remembered, smart. Why was he still in Tanglewood, a driver and stableman for Warren Arrington? He returned her smile before she closed the door.

"I'm almost out of face cream," Vanessa said. "And I thought I might purchase a bottle of rose water while I'm here."

"Certainly." Matilda collected the requested items, including the latest batch of beauty cream Hanson had spit into. Vanessa had been a regular buyer of the cream for the past three years—since she'd turned twenty.

"Also," Vanessa said in a lowered voice, "that rash on my arms has reappeared. The ointment you suggested last time worked wonderfully, but I'm afraid I'm completely out."

Matilda collected that ointment and placed it with the other purchases. "Anything else?"

A quarter of an hour later, Vanessa was finished. She had too many creams and ointments to carry, so Matilda placed them all in a small basket.

Wouldn't Declan love to know exactly how his queen stayed so beautiful?

Wouldn't Vanessa love to know what Declan had planned for her?

Unfortunately, being the keeper of Tanglewood's secrets meant keeping the secrets. Vanessa looked startled when Matilda handed her the heavy basket rather than offering to carry it to the carriage for her.

Matilda opened the door for Vanessa, who immediately handed the basket to her driver. John took the basket as if it weighed nothing, then took Vanessa's hand and assisted her into the carriage. Vanessa never uttered a word or a nod of thanks, she just settled herself in the fine velvet-covered seat and, spine straight as a board, waited for her driver to take her home.

Matilda stood in the doorway and watched the carriage head for the road, then she slammed the door of her little cottage shut with such force the walls trembled.

Chapter 8