Into the Woods (30 page)

With his back to her, he stood over the table staring down at the potion. He was apparently reluctant to lay his hands on the decanter; those hands flexed and then formed easy fists that hung at his sides.

"According to the book I found this recipe in, the potion will be almost immediately effective, and the effects are somewhat permanent."

"Somewhat?"

She took a deep breath. "After a while the love the recipient of the potion experiences will sometimes fade, moving in and out like the tide. There will be moments of clarity during which your beloved will wonder why she ever fell in love with you, and then, sometime later, she will love you madly once again. I would think that to be a rather unpleasant sensation, myself," she added softly.

Declan finally reached out and touched the bottle, but he did not lift it. She wished, with all her heart, that he would take the bottle in his hands and smash it against the floor. She wished he would come to his senses.

"How much?" he whispered. "How much should I give her?"

"How much do you want her to love you?" Matilda snapped. "The more she drinks the more besotted she'll be. Be sure to save some for yourself," she added in a subdued voice.

He shook his head slowly.

"How will you endure a lifetime married to someone you don't love?" she whispered. "Perhaps you can convince yourself you love Vanessa, just a little, in order to do what must be done. You can both drink. Make arrangements to be alone at the time, and I'm sure she'll succumb to your charms." Her voice shook, but only slightly. "Compromise her, love her, and the wedding you so desire will take place. Very quickly, I would imagine. Vanessa Arrington is not the kind of woman you bed unless you intend to marry her."

Declan finally turned to face her. He looked every bit as miserable as she felt, deep inside. "Don't say that," he whispered hoarsely. "You're worth a thousand Vanessas; you're a better woman than she will ever be. I didn't use you, Matilda. I loved you."

"Not enough," she muttered.

He took a step forward, but stopped when she lifted her hand, palm outward, to silently tell Declan that she did not want him to come any closer.

"I wish there was another way," he said, looking as if he meant it.

"If you wished it hard enough, you would find another way."

He spun around, took the decanter in one impatient hand, and stormed from the cottage.

After he had gone, after she'd listened to his horse's hoofbeats fade away, Matilda cried.

* * *

Vanessa walked toward the small knot of farmers as if she were headed somewhere else, as if she had not deliberately chosen this direction. She'd already heard, from Mrs. Daly, that the farmers had decided to grant Mr. Cox a full-time escort, in case he should decide to run with their two hundred dollars. Wendell Trent and Reggie Brewster had been assigned the task of making sure the rainmaker didn't disappear in the night.

She found the entire situation to be rather entertaining. As she approached, she saw that Cox was actually sweating; an unfortunate state that did nothing to improve his already dismal appearance. She almost turned away when she saw that Henry was one of the men surrounding Cox, but decided to continue for the greater good. Once she was finished, no one in town would have time for that witch Matilda Candy. They'd all hate her.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," she said. "How are you all this fine day?"

Henry turned longing eyes to her, and the others looked at her as if she were daft. They wouldn't consider it a fine day until there was rain.

Cox narrowed one eye as he stared at her. She could see the panic in it.

"Any luck manufacturing rain?" She peered out from under the boardwalk to a pure, blue, cloudless sky. "I guess not." She smiled widely. "Must be the witch."

Henry quickly agreed with her. "Did you hear those kids this morning? They've seen her do things." He shuddered. "Terrible things. They've even seen her turn a man into a toad."

Reggie Brewster recalled hearing that same conversation, nodding his red head enthusiastically as he confirmed what Henry had heard.

"Matilda Candy," Wendell Trent said with narrowed, angry eyes, apparently liking the direction the conversation had taken. "That interfering witch is the one keeping the rain away. If we get rid of her, we'll have rain again for sure!"

"Yeah!" someone else agreed enthusiastically.

If we get rid of her. Oh, it was delicious. "How do you... get rid of a witch?" Vanessa asked, lowering her voice.

Many of the farmers expressed their opinions, keeping their voices low and their heads together. An aging farmer suggested that they unite and run her out of the county. Someone else said she should be stoned, another suggested stringing her up, and even another suggested drowning her in her own pond. As they tossed ideas back and forth, some of the farmers became downright excited. Including Henry. Still, none of their suggestions were quite what Vanessa was looking for.

It was she who said, "They burn witches to get rid of them, don't they? In the old days they used to burn them so they wouldn't come back." She leaned in and laid a hand on Henry's arm. "We don't want her to come back, do we?"

There was a soft chorus of "no" from the farmers, but Raleigh Cox remained silent. Vanessa lifted her eyes to him. "Do you think that would break the curse and bring rain, Mr. Cox?" What could he say? If he had a choice of burning a witch or finding himself at the end of a rope, which would he choose?

"Perhaps," he finally answered, his oddly spaced eyes glaring down at her. The one lazy eye waggled, and she shuddered and looked away.

The older man who'd suggested running Matilda out of the county took a step back. "I don't know. Can't we just... talk to her?"

It was Henry who answered. "Talk to a witch? What good would that do?"

One by one, the men who were uncomfortable with this plan moved away. They were too cowardly to participate, but they were desperate enough for rain that they wouldn't try to stop what might happen.

Eventually there were five left, Vanessa, Raleigh Cox, Henry, Reggie, and Wendell. Four men would be plenty to see that Matilda burned, Vanessa was sure. But still she wondered—was any one of the four surrounding her man enough to see the chore through? Or would they chicken out when faced with the task of setting a passably pretty woman afire?

She knew how to make sure they wouldn't. As long as one of them persisted, as long as one of them led the undertaking, the others would follow.

"Henry," she said, taking her old beau's arm and pulling him aside. "I don't think I'll rest easy until I know she's dead. She'll know we've been plotting against her, and who knows what kind of retribution she might seek, should she survive." She gave the man her most vulnerable look, wide-eyed and pouty-lipped. "Why, the very idea terrifies me."

Vanessa knew Henry well, knew his strengths and his weaknesses. He did have a powerful weakness for her. "If you would do this for me, I would be forever in your debt." She licked her lips. "I would be grateful, and once this is done I will repay you any way you ask." She tried to give the simple words meaning. "Any way, Henry."

He looked like he was about to dissolve and seep through the boardwalk. "I'd do anything for you, Vanessa, anything you ask."

"You're such a sweetheart," she said, leaning forward to give him a peck on the cheek.

"There is one problem," Cox piped up, drawing her attention, and Henry's, back to the group.

"What's that?" Reggie asked.

"Him." Cox nodded down the street, and all heads turned to watch Declan dismount in front of the boarding house at the end of the street. He held a bottle in his hand—a whiskey bottle perhaps—as he headed inside.

"Yeah, he seemed kinda sweet on that witch at the Founders' Day dance," Wendell said angrily.

"She's likely cast a spell over him," Vanessa suggested, and the others quickly agreed. "I can handle Declan," she said softly. Her father had ridden to Jackson to see about a horse. He'd probably stay over to play a game of cards and not return until tomorrow, as usual.

She'd have the house to herself. "I'll keep him occupied while y'all do what has to be done."

Vanessa wanted, very badly, to watch Matilda Candy get her comeuppance, to actually see her burn. To her way of thinking, it was fitting punishment for all of the so-called witch's interference. Unfortunately it looked as if she would not be able to attend the festivities.

She'd just have to satisfy herself by toying with Declan Harper while the woman who had bewitched him burned.

Chapter 21

Declan sat on the edge of the bed in his tiny room in the boarding house, the decanter of wine in his hands. The sun went down, and still he held the wine. Wine, hell. Call it what it is, he thought angrily. The love potion.

When it was too dark to see, he lit the bedside lamp and set the potion beside it. There was an evil beauty to the liquid in the bottle, a riveting, entrancing, sinful beauty.

Everything he wanted could be had with the proper use of the potion in that bottle: revenge, security, the life he'd always craved. Money, position... revenge. He always came back to revenge.

But he would have to take his vengeance without Matilda, he'd have to give up the only woman he'd ever love. She was right; it would be easier if he joined Vanessa in taking the potion, if he fooled himself into thinking that he could not only bear but enjoy a lifetime with a beautiful, vapid woman like Vanessa Arrington. He wouldn't take even a sip of the potion, though, no matter how easy it might make the days and years to come. He'd rather suffer the pain of loving Matilda and not having her than to wipe her out of his heart completely.

Thinking about Matilda hurt too much, so he concentrated on his revised plan. He would have to find a time to be alone with Vanessa, a time when her father was not around. One afternoon, perhaps, when he caught a glimpse of Arrington in town alone. A quick trip to the Arrington plantation, a glass of wine, or two, and the deed would be done.

He wasn't expecting anyone, so the knock on the door surprised him. He was even more surprised when he saw one of Arrington's young servants standing there with a folded sheet of paper in his hand.

"Miss Vanessa asked me to deliver this to you," the kid said, handing over the paper. The boy was young and not too bright, most likely unable to read. Why would Vanessa send a note this way?

Dear Declan,

I am distressed to learn of my father's inexcusable behavior and would like to make amends. He is out for the evening. Perhaps we should take this opportunity to discuss the unfortunate situation.

Yours,

Vanessa

How timely, how interesting. How odd that she should choose this, of all evenings, to ask him to call.

Before he could change his mind, he scooped up the decanter of wine and left the room.

* * *

Matilda loosened her braids and brushed out the wavy strands, thinking of Declan as she performed the mindless task. Had he used the potion yet? Were he and Vanessa, at this very moment...

She shook her head vigorously. Why did she torture herself this way?

She wasn't surprised by the knock at the door. It was after dark, a time when people came to her for cures and advice. At the moment she felt no anticipation, just sadness. She didn't want to face anyone tonight.

Throwing open the door, she found not one but four men standing there—the rainmaker, Henry Langford, Reggie Brewster, and a smiling Wendell Trent. Henry held a gun trained on her as he and his accomplices forced their way into her cottage.

"Tie her up, Reggie." The farmer, rope in hand, moved forward to do as Henry ordered. Within seconds she was bound tightly.

"What if she tries to put a spell on me?" Reggie asked as he tied the last knot.

"I'm pretty sure she needs her hands free to cast spells," Henry said knowingly.

"What are you doing?" Matilda asked as Reggie forced her to her knees.

Wendell stepped forward and leaned down to boldly place his face close to hers. "Think you can keep away the rain, do you? Think you can just keep on interfering in other people's lives?" he whispered hoarsely. "Well, we'll see about that."

"Wendell," Henry snapped with authority. "You plant that stake good and firm in the clearing out front."

"Stake?" Matilda said, her voice barely working. She cast a sharp glance at the rainmaker, who stood back and allowed the other men to do their wicked business. He knew this was wrong; she could see that truth in his face, in the way he stood anxiously to the side. The others were ignorant, but he knew.

"Tell them," she pleaded. "Tell them that this is wrong."

He looked slightly dismayed, but said nothing to stop what was happening.

Wendell threw open the door. From her place on her knees in the middle of the room, she saw the stake tied to one of the horses out front. It was six feet long, at least, the width of a pine tree, and sharpened at one end.

"Reggie, give him a hand," Henry ordered.