Page 15 of A Potion for Passion

“You must visit some extraordinary places, Dr. Campaign,” she said doubtfully.

“Perhaps. Now, if I’m to get my anti-hair-dye experiments concluded by this afternoon, I should get on with it.” He stood up and held the entrance flap aside.

“Oh, well, yes, of course.” She rose quickly.

There was so little space in the wagon that her body couldn’t help but brush his as she headed for the steps. Heavens! Just that briefest of touches sent a shock of lightning through her nerves. She stumbled, then rushed down the steps.

“Wait.”

His voice halted her at the foot, where Charley padded up to her and licked her hand.

Her whole body quivered in expectation as she turned around. Lawrence leaped lightly down the steps. For the first time, she noticed the sinews of his forearms where his sleeves were rolled up and saw that his shirt was open at the neck, revealing the strong column of his throat, around which he wore a gold cross on a chain. He looked vital, dangerous.

And as tempting as the primrose path to hell.

“I’ve another gift for you,” he said. “In apology for what my hair tonic—or rather, Jud Creasey, did.” He pressed a small, thick-walled bottle into her hand.

“I trust it’s a remedy that can be used safely,” she said drily.

“Indeed. Though, I hope you won’t have much need of it. It can be applied to wounds, to cleanse them and speed recovery, as well as to reduce bruising.”

“Very kind of you, sir,” she said, then patted Charley on the head and walked away.

She could feel Lawrence watching her as she left the inn yard but daren’t look back. Because if she did, it would signal her interest, and once she gave vent to her feelings, she had no idea where they might lead.

Except, she did. Her unexpected response to this man—both physical and emotional—had shown her one thing for certain. Her affections had been stored up far too long, her heart in chains ever since Frank’s death. She desperately needed someone to love.

It was an unsettling insight, to be sure.

But one other thing was equally certain. An itinerant physician of uncertain origin and uneven temperament—no matter how alluring—was the very last man to whom she should offer her heart.