Into the Woods (6 page)

Matilda took a deep breath, trying to keep up as the three spoke at once. Finally, she lifted a hand to silence them all. "One moment."

She returned shortly with two large wicker baskets, then handed one to each of the children. "If you will pick the fully blooming red roses from my garden—the red ones only—I'll give you a plate of caramels and marzipan when you're done."

Hanson nodded in acceptance, and Gretchen looked warily up at her stepmother, who released the children almost reluctantly. The twins ran away, rounding the corner and heading toward the flower garden.

Matilda moved back and opened the door wide. "Come in," she said. "I'll make us a cup of tea while the children pick flowers."

Mrs. Hazelrig accepted the invitation and stepped into the main room, setting a hand to her simply styled brown hair as if to make sure it was not misbehaving. "I must apologize again. Those children tell such tales! Stealing spit. Threatening to cook them! Such nonsense." She was silent for a moment as she looked around the room, taking in everything.

"Just a few days ago they told me you'd taken them into the forest and left them there to starve," Matilda said as she made her way to the small winter kitchen at the back of the cottage. There was not enough room to do her baking here, but there was a small stove, a pantry of food, tea, and Granny's fine china cups.

"Heaven only knows what they've told you, and anyone else who will listen!" Mrs. Hazelrig laid a tired hand on her forehead as Matilda heated water for tea. "They hate me," she added, in a lowered voice that made the statement seem a confidence. "I thought that with time their feelings toward me would change, but..."

"They will," Matilda said with assurance. "Gretchen still misses her mother terribly, and Hanson simply follows his sister's lead. Patience, Mrs. Hazelrig."

"Call me Stella," the woman said. "After all, we are neighbors."

"And I'm Matilda." She experienced a moment of warmth. A neighbor. No one had ever made such an overture before. But then, Stella was new to the area and had not heard all the stories. Once she did...

"I'm truly at a loss," Stella said softly. "Their mother's been gone four years." There was such despair in the woman's voice, as if she would never know peace again. "What can I do?"

Matilda gave the question some thought as she waited for the water to boil. She mused as she prepared the cups—two of her finest—glancing through the window to see that Gretchen and Hanson were very carefully following her instructions, picking only the fully bloomed red roses and dropping them into their baskets.

"You must make your own place in their hearts," Matilda said softly. "And realize that yours will be a new place, not an old one." She flashed Stella her brightest smile. "And I can teach you to make caramels."

Chapter 4

He was a little early arriving at the Candy house, but Declan dismissed his eagerness as a desire to see his plans fulfilled as quickly as possible. Once Vanessa Arrington was his wife, he'd be well on his way to seeing all his dreams come true.

He was not particularly eager to see Matilda Candy again, he told himself as he dismounted before her cottage. Yes, she was an interesting woman, pretty if you liked the type, and a good listener with a great laugh. He might've dreamed about golden braids and bare feet in the past couple of days, or heard a laugh in town and turned to look and see if maybe... just maybe... it was Matilda he heard. All right, he conceded, she was an attractive woman, but that's not why he had arrived at her cottage well before dark!

She didn't answer his brief knock, but he wasn't surprised. Her big kitchen was out back, and that was where she did much of her work. He wondered what she was making today; hard molasses candy, perhaps?

The smell hit him when he was halfway around the cottage—not candy, not bread, but a tantalizing, feminine scent that teased his senses, a flowery fragrance that wrapped itself around him and made him think of women in long, deep bathtubs. When he rounded the corner he saw Matilda standing before a huge black cauldron with a low fire burning beneath it. She reached into a basket at her feet and came up with a handful of red rose petals. Declan stopped where he was to watch Matilda as she rubbed her palms together and let the petals drift from her hands into the cauldron.

Something unexpected moved in Declan's chest. It was from the fragrance perhaps, or the sight of Matilda standing there surrounded by red rose petals; petals at her feet, raining from her hands. Yet she looked no different from the first time he'd seen her, with her long golden braids and those bare feet, wearing a plain white blouse, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and a full yellow skirt that danced around her legs. Then again, she did look different, somehow. Prettier. Sexier. He wondered how she'd look immersed in a hot bath of fragrant bathwater, her braids undone and her body bare.

"Rose water," she said without looking over at him as she bent to scoop up another handful. "One of my best-selling products and the base for many of my creams. You're early."

He found himself a little annoyed. Matilda hadn't even looked his way, and he'd been very quiet. She tilted her head as she rubbed the latest batch of rose petals between her palms and let them rain down into the pot. Steam rose off the water in the cauldron, a fragrant mist that seemed to wrap itself around Matilda as she stood over it, the same way the scent had wrapped itself around him.

Maybe she really was a witch.

"I can wait," he said, his voice making him sound more short-tempered than he'd intended.

Matilda smiled. She didn't look at him, just smiled as if she had an amusing secret she would never share. "I heard you arrive," she said softly. "More specifically, I heard your horse."

"Of course," he said. The explanation he had not asked for made perfect sense.

She bent to grab another handful of rose petals, and all Declan's impatience and irritation fled. He didn't care why he liked watching her, he just did. That was enough, for the moment. He took few pleasures for himself; why not this one? The way she worked the red petals in her hands and dropped them into the simmering water was rather pleasing, somehow. There was natural grace in every motion Matilda made, a strangely hypnotic way to her simple task. He leaned against the side of the house, crossed his arms across his chest, and just watched.

If he hadn't already set his course, if he could allow himself to be led by something besides his head, he could truly enjoy Matilda's company. He wondered if she'd ever had a lover. He wondered what she'd do if he went to her right now and laid her down on a bed of rose petals and...

"I imagine you're anxious to get started," she said as red petals floated down from her hands. One wayward petal was caught by the wind and landed on her yellow skirt, clinging there for a moment before drifting to her feet.

"What?" Declan was rudely jerked back to reality. "Oh yes, the potion. Of course I'm anxious. To get started, that is," he added quickly.

"I found quite a lot of information this weekend. More than I'd expected," she said as she continued with her chore.

"Excellent," he muttered, trying to sound completely businesslike.

"Many of the formulas are quite interesting, but... difficult for your situation." She gave him a sideways glance.

"Difficult how?" he asked.

She smiled at him as she brushed new petals through her palms and let them drift into the cauldron. "We'll discuss it later. Why did you arrive so early? My goodness, Mr. Harper, isn't there a watch pocket in that fancy suit of yours?"

Declan ignored her question and once again leaned against the house to watch her as she returned to her task. He was completely and totally entranced. Damn.

* * *

"Isn't that the same man who walked home with her last week?" Hanson asked, whispering from his hiding place behind a tall pine.

"Yes," Gretchen hissed. "I didn't think witches had beaus. Oh, he's likely to ruin everything! If he starts hanging around, she'll have less time for making candy."

"Maybe he's not a beau," Hanson said hopefully. "Maybe he's just a friend. Witches can have friends, can't they?"

Gretchen gave her brother what she hoped was a cutting glare to put him in his place. "Can't you see his face, you moron? He's looking at that witch the way Father looked at Stella before he married her." The memory made her frown. They'd gone to another town to buy a horse from a rancher her father had heard about, a task that should've been quick and simple. But no. Her father had taken one look at the rancher's daughter, and everything had changed.

In truth, he still looked at his new wife the way the man before them was staring at the witch, but Gretchen chose not to dwell on that fact.

Hanson looked properly horrified. "Witches don't get married, do they?"

"I don't know," Gretchen admitted. "But if she casts a love spell on that man, I'm afraid it's very likely."

A husband wouldn't take kindly to a couple of kids who weren't his own hanging around asking for candy.

Too, there would be another pair of eyes to catch them when they sneaked into her kitchen. And, horrors, what if they got married and moved to his house? Oh, that would not be acceptable. Wherever this man lived, it was not close enough.

"She's not making candy today, anyway," Hanson said glumly. "She's making rose water."

"I can see that," Gretchen snapped.

"And we have to get home. Stella said she was making something special tonight."

Gretchen made a derisive noise deep in her throat. Stella was a terrible cook! Her "something special" was usually a pie with a burned crust or underdone bread with runny jam. If her father had to get married again, why couldn't he have married someone who could cook? Why couldn't he have married Matilda Candy?

The stray, unexpected thought caught her by surprise, and yet Gretchen found she couldn't dismiss it immediately. If witches had beaus and got married, if Matilda Candy was going to get married, why couldn't it be to their father? What a wonderful idea! She and Hanson would have all the candy they could eat, then, and when school was in session no one would dare tease them—not with a witch as a stepmother!

The idea was positively brilliant. Of course, first they'd have to find a way to get rid of Stella.

* * *

Matilda placed several books on a long table in the main room of her cottage. She hadn't told a lie when she'd told Declan Harper that she'd found the research interesting. The question remained; was any of the material suitable? Would it work?

The man sat in a chair near the table, attentive, as patient as he was capable of being, and unexpectedly attractive. He looked as if he wanted to squirm in his fine suit, but would never dare.

Declan Harper was, very simply, a man. A real, true man. If she looked at him just so, she could almost imagine what it might be like to kiss him. He had a somehow wonderful mouth, full and strong and tempting, and he was built the way she suspected a man was supposed to be built; strong and solid. Perhaps that was why his suits seemed to constrict him unnaturally.

Most of all, she was entranced by his eyes. She could easily get lost in those dark eyes.

With an absent wave of her hand, she dismissed her inappropriate thoughts about Declan Harper. He had his sights set on Vanessa Arrington, and Matilda herself couldn't possibly be attracted to a man who cared for that vain, vacuous ninny.

"I found several possible love potions," she said, keeping her tone strictly professional. "I divided them into four categories." There was a fifth category, but she would not share that information with Declan Harper. Oils and lotions and the instructions on how to apply them intimately was more advanced than this situation called for, in any case.

She had Declan's full attention. His eyes were practically glued to her!

"The first category calls for plants or drugs with hallucinogenic properties."

"That's not what I'm looking for," he said quickly.

"I'm glad to hear it, because I won't make such a potion for you. The results are unpredictable and dangerous."

He nodded once, silently agreeing with her.

"Then there are a number of supposedly powerful powders in which the main ingredient is the dried testicles of an animal, usually a hare or a fox." She tried hard not to blush, but she felt her cheeks turn warm.

"I think I'll pass on those," Declan said softly, and she almost thought she heard a hint of pained humor in his voice. Almost.

She nodded, relieved.

"I found directions for a number of talismans, some that you could fashion and wear yourself, others that would be given as a gift to your intended to ensure that she returns your affections." She smiled as Declan lifted his eyebrows in disbelief. "But I don't suppose talismans will be effective in this case. Still, I imagine if you want to steal one of her shoes and place it under your bed it wouldn't hurt anything."

"Excuse me?"

"It's supposed to bring a loved one to your bed. Isn't that what you want?" This time she didn't blush; Declan did. And Matilda found it rather charming to watch, however briefly.