Free Into the Woods by Linda Jones

suitable husband for his beloved daughter. That couldn't hurt, Declan thought. It would even add a touch of irony to the moment when he stood before the old man and told him who he really was.
    "That's quite true, sir," Declan said, trying to sound humble. "A woman does make a house a home."
    As he waited for Vanessa to consume her soup—and the potion—he wondered if she'd look at him the way Matilda Candy had last night. He wondered if her eyes would devour him, if she'd be tempted to taste him. The memory distracted and aroused him, and shaking the memories and the arousal off was more difficult than it should have been.
    Vanessa finally lifted her soup spoon, and Declan caught his breath. He wouldn't have to wonder for long. She finished every drop, taking small, dainty sips from her well-polished, ornate silver spoon.
    The soup was followed by a tasty fish and a selection of well-prepared vegetables. Declan ate but he tasted nothing. He tried to carry on a casual conversation with Vanessa throughout the meal. He wanted her attention on him, wanted to see the passion creep into her violet eyes as the potion took hold.
    She was a woman. If she felt passion for him she'd think herself in love, and when he asked her to marry him she'd say yes without hesitation. He wouldn't have to suffer poor Henry Langford's fate.
    The meal was a leisurely one. A half-hour passed. A quarter-hour more. Declan began to fidget in his chair. Why wasn't it working? Vanessa remained calm, polite, ladylike. There was not so much as a flicker of interest in her cool eyes.
    Finally, slices of a delicate white cake were served. Vanessa declared herself much too full to even think of dessert, and then she rose to take her leave. She bid Declan a courteous good night and thanked him for his company, kissed her father on the cheek, and left the room without so much as a single backward glance.
    Declan watched the empty doorway where she had not lingered and felt a crushing defeat. It hadn't worked. There had been no fire of passion in Vanessa's eyes, not so much as a flicker of longing. She had not once looked at him as if she wanted to devour him, hadn't one time smiled with promise and yearning. Somehow the powder had lost its potency overnight.
    Matilda was just going to have to try again.

 
     
     
    Chapter 6

     
    Matilda delivered toffee, spiced nuts, bread, and bottled rose water to Mr. Fox, along with a few jars of rose-petal jelly and three slender bottles of vinegar of roses. She collected the empty basket from last week's delivery, as well as a shipment of spices he'd ordered for her and the few coins difference in this week's transaction. It wasn't much, as the spices were costly.
    Mr. Fox was his normal chatty self, talking about the dry weather and the fact that a few of the farmers had discussed the possibility of bringing in a rainmaker—a solution he dismissed as ludicrous.
    She'd just begun the walk home when a low, deep voice spoke, much too close to her ear.
    "It didn't work."
    She started and glanced over her shoulder just as Declan stepped to her side and matched his stride to hers. "What didn't work?" she asked breathlessly.
    He looked down at her, annoyance in his narrowed dark gaze, tension in the set of his jaw and his lips. He wore a suit, as always, but the jacket looked as if he'd been squirming all morning, and the top button of his white shirt had already been unbuttoned. "The potion. What else?"
    She knew good and well that the potion she'd made was effective. Hadn't she suffered in taking it herself? Hadn't she studied Declan Harper until a strange warmth had almost made her forget herself? "But..." she began weakly.
    "It didn't work on Vanessa," he clarified. "I'm not criticizing your efforts," he added, the tone of his voice less sharp as they stepped from the covered boardwalk and into the sun. "We know the potion did possess some... interesting qualities. For some reason it did not work when I administered it to