Into the Woods (28 page)

"I was going to ask you..." he began.

She shook her head. If she listened to him, if she let herself believe that what he said made any sense at all, she was lost. "No. If you'd throw me away for your precious retaliation, you never loved me. If you prefer a life of misery with a woman you care nothing for, you never loved me." Everything she'd wanted to believe was false. Maybe Vanessa was right, and he'd just been using her all along, telling her what she wanted to hear.

Declan raked his fingers through his hair in clear exasperation. "I've worked all my life for this!" he shouted. "All my life! I can't allow Arrington to swipe it out from under my feet when I'm so close. I can't slink away and die when I have him right here." He thrust out his hand, palm up. That hand no longer trembled, she noticed, but was steady as a rock.

Matilda looked at Declan and realized that she didn't know him at all. Had he only used her, telling her he loved her so she'd sleep with him? Had he taken his comfort here while he planned his life and revenge with Vanessa Arrington?

"Get out," she whispered.

"Matilda..."

"Get out!"

He stood by the front door and looked at her as if he were hurt, as if his heart was breaking. "Did you really love me, Matilda?"

I still do! "Yes." Her heart clenched, her throat closed so she could barely breathe.

"Then do me one last favor."

Surely he would not ask it of her. Surely even he...

"Make the potion for me," he whispered. "The ancient recipe you found in your grandmother's book. It's the best chance I have to do what I must do."

How could he ask that of her now? After everything they had been through, after all the nights he'd slept in her bed and told her he loved her. She felt like she was melting on the spot, growing smaller and smaller. Anger was no longer enough to keep her on her feet. It was no longer enough to hold her together. Soon she would melt through the floor and disappear. Perhaps then the pain would stop.

"I told you it's dangerous. Much too powerful to trifle with." She stared at Declan, wondering if she'd ever really known him, wondering what he would do if she broke down and threw herself at his feet and begged him to stay. She lifted her chin defiantly. No matter what happened, she would not beg, she would not grovel. She might have nothing else, but she did have her pride. "If you give the potion to Vanessa, you'll be with her forever. She won't let you go, not even when you realize what a horrible mistake you've made."

"I don't care."

Of course he didn't care. That was the problem, wasn't it? He didn't care for her, he didn't even care for himself. There was nothing in his life but hate and revenge, and his precious schemes...

She hardened her breaking heart. "Then you might as well drink it yourself," she whispered. "When the time comes and she drinks, you'd better take some of the potion yourself so you can fool yourself into thinking that you love Vanessa when you make her your wife."

"Never," he whispered hoarsely.

"Why not?"

He shook his head but did not answer her question.

She wanted her anger to grow until it consumed her. Pure rage couldn't possibly hurt more than this. She wanted to hate Declan, she wanted to put him out of her mind and her heart forever. But she couldn't. Like it or not, her love was stronger than rage and pain and sorrow. Her love for Declan wouldn't die tonight. Maybe it would always be with her, a curse she had brought upon herself.

"Saturday, not before noon," she said. "The potion will be ready for you then."

"Thank you."

She shook her head, softly and violently. Tears filled her eyes, and she lowered her head so he could not see. She would not sob in front of Declan. "Don't thank me for this," she whispered. She heard the door open and close, and in the echo of Declan's departure she whispered to an empty room. "Don't you dare thank me."

Chapter 19

He couldn't sleep, so Declan rode Smoky slowly down the rutted road to the Hazelrig place. It had been the Harper place, long ago, the home he and his mother and his sisters had ridden away from not knowing what the West would hold for them. At the time, he was sure wherever they went would be better than here.

The anger inside him was mingled with sadness over what he was giving up, but the anger was stronger than his regret. He would give up everything to make Arrington pay. Even Matilda.

Matilda. She could marry Ezra now, maybe move to Jackson where she wouldn't have to worry about running into him at the general store or the next Founders' Day Celebration. They'd have fair-haired babies and once Matilda had forgotten this love affair, she and her husband would laugh a lot, make a home, sell rose water and candy to the people of Jackson.

She was right; there were worse fates than marrying a friend. Declan fought the urge to turn Smoky around and fly him back to the cottage in the woods. The thought of Matilda married to Ezra or anyone else made him ill. No matter what had happened, no matter what was to come, she was his in a way no other woman would ever be.

His heart clenched, his eyes burned and watered in the night wind. He did not want to give her up, but what choice did he have? He certainly wouldn't offer Matilda what Arrington had offered Brenna Harper years ago, he would not tell the woman he loved that she was good enough to bed but not good enough to marry.

But it hurt. Giving up Matilda hurt more than he'd imagined it could.

The only thought that soothed him as he rode slowly toward town in the gray light of approaching dawn was that before he was finished, Arrington was going to hurt even worse.

* * *

Matilda didn't bother trying to sleep, but fetched the slender volume from the top shelf and opened it to the proper page. She ignored the warnings and gathered the necessary ingredients and a large glass bowl, to start.

She should not be surprised by this turn of events, should she? All along she'd known that love would bring only heartache, that her love for Declan would somehow end badly. Perhaps somewhere on the shelf at her back there was an un-love potion, something to make her stop caring about a man who would sacrifice everything, even love, for revenge. A concoction to stop the pain of her breaking heart.

She sniffled, but refused to break down and cry. Declan had come to her, in the beginning, for this love potion. He'd intended all along to make the gentle lady Vanessa Arrington his wife. A witch might make a proper lover, for a while, but one would not make a suitable wife. Wouldn't people talk?

Anger dried her tears, and she carefully measured the first ingredient as the sun came up, drizzling it into a green glass bowl. She whispered the required words as she sprinkled the next ingredient, a spice she had just enough of for this one potion, over the first.

As she mixed together and whispered the incantation, something rather frightening happened: The mixture, the perfectly common ingredients, sparkled strangely in the first rays of morning sunlight that shot through her window. A thick, swirling mist formed in the bottom of the bowl, momentarily obscuring the glittering potion. When the cloud dissipated, the liquid in the bottom of the bowl looked perfectly ordinary again.

But something out of the ordinary had just happened, and Matilda knew it. She wondered if this was her gift: the making of love potions. With the right words and a few commonplace ingredients, she could bring love to the world; she could bring love to anyone.

Well, to anyone but herself.

* * *

Vanessa was fit to be tied. She could not remember the last time she'd been so angry. She did her best to hide her anger as she looked over the newly arrived notions at Fox's general store, but she barely saw the colorful satin ribbons that slipped through her fingers.

Johnny was gone. He'd packed his clothes and moved out, going to work for another planter who lived outside Tanglewood. The place was not as large as her father's, the pay surely less.

She refused to admit to herself that the pounding of her heart and the way her breath came strangely might be panic. She did not need John Bowers. There were other beautiful men in the world, men who would be glad to fall at her feet and worship her and do anything she asked of them. Anything!

Try as she might, at the moment she could not think of another man who could take Johnny's place.

Vanessa held her head high. There was no need for her to go on alone, without a man in her life. Perhaps she should make Declan Harper her lover. He no longer represented suitable marriage material, but he was quite handsome, and rugged, and he absolutely reeked of masculinity. Yes, he might very well do, and given his current state of affairs, he would likely fall at her feet if she suggested that she might bestow upon him a pleasurable favor or two.

But she still missed Johnny, and she blamed Matilda Candy for the loss. The witch had surely cast a spell on Johnny, just as she had on those other men who'd come to her defense at the Founders' Day Celebration. Yes, it was surely a witch's spell that made Johnny walk away from what they had. It certainly wasn't only because he didn't think she should pay Matilda Candy back for stealing her man and her shoes.

Suddenly Vanessa wanted those bronze shoes more than anything in the world.

"Mr. Fox," she said, making her way to the front counter. "A while back you ordered a pair of shoes for me. They were bronze, and when they came in I decided they were not the right color for the ensemble I had in mind."

The man grimaced. "I remember."

She gave him her sweetest smile. "Well, I've changed my mind. There is another outfit those shoes would be just perfect for. I can't imagine why I didn't think of it at the time."

"I'm sorry, Miss Vanessa, but I sold those shoes to someone else."

She lifted her eyebrows, putting on a surprised expression that included wide eyes most men found irresistible. "Did you? Well, surely you can ask the customer who bought them to return those shoes. You can explain that you made a mistake."

Fox shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Of course you can."

"I'd be happy to order you another pair, but..." He pulled against his shirt collar just slightly. "I would ask that you pay a portion of the cost in advance. Those shoes were right expensive, and..."

"Why, Mr. Fox," Vanessa interrupted. "I'm shocked. My daddy is one of your best customers."

"Yes, yes he is," Fox conceded, sighing. "I'm sorry. I'll be happy to order those shoes for you."

She smiled. "Yes, do that." And choke on them, she thought as she stared at the shopkeeper. He'd never see a dime for those shoes. It would be fitting repayment for selling the last pair to the witch!

Vanessa stepped onto the boardwalk and opened her parasol. Damnation it was hot! Dry and shimmery hot. Her new driver, an old man her father had pulled from the stables for this new duty, stood by the carriage, waiting. Let him wait; she was in no hurry to head home.

She was walking toward the dressmakers, intending to order something new and expensive to cheer herself up, when she saw the knot of farmers gathered around the rainmaker. Her old suitor, Henry, was there with his two moronic friends.

No one seemed happy, and the raised voices that reached her contained words like swindler and cheat. She came upon the group just in time to hear Wendell Trent remind Cox that in two days his two weeks would be up.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," Vanessa said sweetly. Her voice was low, but everyone heard her, and they stepped dutifully aside to let her pass. She did not pass, though, instead taking a couple of steps until she stood in the center of their knot. Henry laid his adoring eyes on her, and he was not alone. The admiring glances bolstered her flagging self-confidence.

"It does seem a shame that you have not been able to bring us rain, Mr. Cox." She looked up at the ugly man and batted her eyelashes. "I was so hoping you would be successful."

"There's still time," he said, and Vanessa wondered how it was that such a hideous man had such a lovely voice. "I'm sensing some sort of interference. As I was telling these gentlemen, as soon as I locate the problem and eliminate it, the rain will come."

"I'm sure you're right," she said sweetly.

Cox would not be in Tanglewood much longer, she suspected. Just as well. She'd turned her back on him and resumed her easy pace toward the dressmaker's, when a brilliant idea stopped her.

"Interference," she said softly as she spun around to face the men who scowled at the rainmaker. She even flashed a quick smile at Henry and gaily twirled her parasol. "Mr. Cox, is it possible that a witch might interfere with your efforts?"

The crowd became silent, as the farmers considered this possibility.

"That's entirely possible," Cox said. "Is there a witch in the area?"

She smiled. "Oh, yes. Matilda Candy is her name, and she lives just south of town. She is a sweet girl, and I'm sure she would never purposely bring on a drought, but then again, you never know." Vanessa waved her fingers dismissively. "Just a silly idea I had."