Page 74 of A Potion for Passion

Chapter Thirty-Six

There were so many responses Flora might have made to Lawrence’s proposition. But as she was completely overwhelmed in a wash of wanton imaginings, the only answer she could give voice to was a question. “When?”

He gave her a wicked grin which awoke a cloud of butterflies in her stomach.

“Today,” he said. “Very soon. Unless you have something more important to do?”

Something more important than finding out what an experienced lover felt like? No, not really. She shook her head.

“I want to stop in East Town and drop off some bottles at Sally’s,” Lawrence said, indicating a full basket, “and then we can go.”

“I don’t think Sally will be too pleased to see us together,” she warned.

“Then stay inside and make yourself comfortable while I go out and harness up the horse.”

What exactly did he mean by make yourself comfortable? Her gaze flicked to his bed. Did he mean for her to get undressed and slip under the covers?

No, this was a terrible idea! She must leave at once. Never mind what she’d promised him. It felt wrong to be so businesslike about being made love to. A bargain sealed, hands shaken, instructions given—when it should have been all about passion, elation, and blessed ecstasy.

But perhaps that would come later.

The sound of footsteps and conversation reached her. There were people outside. Hellfire! She couldn’t leave now. What if it was Mrs. Daniell or the reverend? Despite her decision to sample Lawrence’s magic, she’d die of shame if anyone she knew ever found out.

There were some jingling noises and the sound of a horse whinnying. Then Lawrence’s face appeared at the wagon flap. “We’re ready to go. Sit down and hold on tight, Madame Julietta, just in case we hit a pothole. I suggest you stay out of sight for now.”

The wagon gave a great lurch, and Flora had to cling onto a loop of cord attached to a wagon bow to keep her balance. The roads had been much smoother in the summer, the last time she’d traveled in the wagon. Now they were full of ruts and potholes.

As she fumbled her way to the bed and sat down, she wondered if this was what it felt like to set sail on the sea—the loud creaking as the wooden hull took up the strain, and the keel pitching and yawing on the waves. It was completely different from being in a carriage, journeying fleet and light. But Lawrence’s wagon felt safe and sturdy as always, though somewhat ponderous, and she relished the fact that it was just one man controlling the great trundling structure, calling soft encouragements to the horses that pulled it and flicking the reins expertly to guide them through the narrow streets and around tight corners.

The stop at East Town was mercifully brief. Sally evidently had no wish to detain Lawrence, nor any desire to enter the wagon. For now, Flora’s wicked intentions were known only to herself.

But when the wagon trundled off again, she was desperate to know where he was taking her and what awaited her at the end of their journey. If only she could sit up front with him and watch him drive. She wanted to see the flex of those strong thigh muscles as he braced against the footboard, and the movement of his deft fingers as he adjusted his hold on the reins. Anything other than just rocking about inside, anxiously chewing her fingernails and awaiting her fate.

When he called out for her to join him, she managed to make her way to the front of the swaying wagon without stumbling. His smile as she joined him was radiant, and she gazed greedily at his face, the sun-browned skin from being outdoors all summer and healthy white teeth exposed by his smiling lips. Firm, masculine lips, whose knowing pressure she could recall without effort, and which she ached to taste again.

“Let’s hope no one sees you up here with me, or you’ll be the talk of the town,” Lawrence warned her with a grin, but the levity didn’t reach his eyes.

What could she read in them? Need? Hope? Whatever it was, it called to something deep within her to which she dared not put a name.

She looked away. This could be their last journey together before he left the country. The realization cast a cloud of melancholy over her…along with a mist of indecision.

She shouldn’t be doing this! She shouldn’t let him get any closer than he already had—not when he was leaving so soon. How could she possibly endure such heartbreak again? It had taken her four years to get over the loss of Frank and would have taken longer had not Lawrence distracted her from her sad memories.

“Lawrence, I—”

“We’re nearly there. Look!” They were passing along an ancient hollow way, where the twisted trees met overhead, creating a sunlit ceiling of gold. Gnarled roots projected from the high banks on either side, locking in place any loose rocks which threatened to spill onto the road. Where there were gaps in the canopy that admitted light, heather grew in profusion. Where the light was less, the dark green tongues of ferns covered the ground.

A deep groove in one side of the bank provided entry to a sheep pasture with a small copse on one side. As Lawrence turned the team expertly through the gap, she saw a busy stream running alongside the trees, diving beneath the road they’d just left via a culvert.

“I often hole up in this pasture if I want to be quiet for a while,” he told her, drawing the horses to halt. “The landowner has no objection. I keep him in good tobacco all year round.”

Her feelings of melancholy increased, despite the autumnal beauty of her surroundings. He probably came here when he needed to lie low and avoid the authorities. If only he weren’t on the wrong side of the law! Lucinda would have an apoplectic fit if she knew Flora was consorting with a criminal.

As the draft horses stood shuffling and champing at their bits, he turned and pressed his lips briefly against her cheek.

Before she had time to appreciate the tenderness of the gesture, he smiled and said, “Thank you for joining me on the box. I’ve enjoyed having you here. It’s the first time I’ve ever had a lady sit beside me. Other than Madame Julietta, of course.”

She watched as he jumped nimbly down, released his team, and slapped them on their rumps, sending them off to drink from the stream. He then untied Belle and Charley from the back of the wagon, and they, too, headed down to the water.