A Passion for Potions (Petalfall #1)

4. Four - The Hopeless Poet

Four - The Hopeless Poet

Viggo

I shouldn’t be out wandering the forests.

That is Penny’s job, but I’m restless.

I have been since he told me about her.

Penny described Ana to me in such detail that I feel as though I can see her face.

He’d been poetic about it.

That is my job.

She has turned everything upside down and she isn’t even aware.

I can’t stay put. I can’t wander into town...

So, I venture south—rambling through the dark woods, creeping like the creature too many already think I am—hoping to find a distraction beneath the full moon.

When I reach a clearing far enough south of the village and far enough north of the farmlands on the other side of the river, I should be safe from any late night itinerants.

But the clearing isn’t empty.

A woman—with her voluminous skirts tucked into her belt, pale, freckled legs on full display—has climbed half way up a dead tree. Her face is lit by an unexpected pink glow... And she hasn’t seen me yet.

She hums to herself as she hops down, clutching a bounty of moon berries to her chest.

It’s her .

The woman whose face glows from the moon berries in her hand is the one who captured Penny’s attention.

There’s no other possibility.

Even if it was another woman wearing the exact dress he described to me, he was so specific. The freckles that paint her nose, her cheeks, her shoulders, and the top of her breasts where a chain snakes beneath her bodice. I can’t tell the color of her tousled curls, but I know they are the color of bond birch leaves in autumn.

I should stay hidden, but she pulls at me like the moon tugs at the ocean. “Hello.”

“Oh!” She flinches and the berries tumble from her hands into the nearly full basket at her feet.

Only a few bounce out to dot the grass at the base of the tree. One slips beneath her bodice, glowing as if her heart tries to shine out from beneath the fabric.

She regains her composure a moment later. “Hello.”

Smiling at me with lips—full and kissable and oh, so tempting—she stoops to pick up the fallen berries, untucking her skirt to billow out around her.

I go to help.

The tree beside her is clotted with the glowing pink orbs. “May I assist you?”

She chuckles and brushes her hands on her skirt. “I might have accepted the offer a half hour ago. But you’ve come upon me just as I finished.”

I would like to come upon you as you finish.

My lips twitch in a smile that I am grateful she can’t understand.

I am better than that... usually.

“Then I wish that I could turn back the clock and do so.”

This close to her, I inhale the warmth of her and beneath the perfume of a heady incense that clings to her despite the fluttering wind... “You smell like sunshine.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“On you? It is a very good thing.”

“I should go,” she says, but she licks her lips and looks at mine. “Talking to strangers in the night is bound to cause trouble.”

“What if I could promise it would only be a good kind of trouble?”

I want to pick up her basket and hold her hand as I lead her back to the manor. I want to offer both of us to her and hear her say “yes.”

And I want to peel her out of the gown she wears to learn the color of her nipples, and the pattern of the freckles that disappear beneath her bodice.

She looks up at me with doe eyes. “But that is not a promise you can make, is it?”

“No.” Because I want to taste her. I want to know if the sunshine lives in her blood as it does upon her skin.

She draws at me like a lodestone and my cock presses heavily against the front of my trousers. Sweet and sultry and she’s old enough, I imagine she knows exactly what she wants.

I ache as my imagination runs riot with the ways I want to please her.

“Run home, sweetling.” I say, knowing that she must. “We will meet again for you to tempt me once more.”

Her brows rise and she takes a step forward instead of turning away. “What kind of magic do you have?”

I brush my fingers along her cheek and the warmth of her skin sends a shiver through me that makes my cock pulse toward her.

Her eyes narrow, but I am worthy of her suspicion. “Do I want to kiss you because of some spell? Or did the Goddess put us in this place together for a reason?”

I like to think the Goddess brought us together and will again, soon. “If you want a kiss, I will gladly give it to you.”

I would give her anything she desired. I would go to my knees and beg to serve her.

“Are you staying at the inn?” she asks, but she doesn’t let me answer. “Will you meet me tomorrow?”

If only I could. “I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

The smile fades from her lips and when it returns, it’s rueful. “What a shame.”

She looks disappointed as she reaches for her basket and I catch her fingers.

I can’t let her go yet.

I turn her hand and press my lips to her wrist, feeling the pulse of her blood through her skin.

We are doomed.

And that doom is going to be delicious.

“Until we next meet.”

Her eyes narrow in a curious suspicion. “But not tomorrow?”

“No, not tomorrow.” I agree.

She bites her lip as if she wants to ask more questions, but she doesn’t. “Good night, then.”

“Good night, Ana.”

Her brows pinch. “How do you know my name?”

Ah. Oops.

“How could one be anywhere near this village and not know the name of the most beautiful woman for a hundred miles?”

She wants to argue with me, but she doesn’t.

She doesn’t ask for my name either.

With a curious smile, she shakes her head at me and turns back toward the path to the village.

I watch her leave with her glowing basket and don’t give in to the impulse to follow her with more than my senses.

There’s no one between her and the inn. And she’s safe once she is within the village. Safer than she might be with the two of us.

Taking another breath, trying to find the remnants of her on the air, I don’t linger when I can’t. Staying here won’t bring her back to me any sooner.

I retrace the wandering path I took, but this time, I don’t dally. And Penny looks up from his book with a surprised quirk of his brows when I flop onto the rose chair across from him.

“If you do not extend that invitation first thing in the morning, I will be desolate. And we both know you can’t stand me when I am desolate.”

“You’ve met her?” he asks, closing the pages on his finger.

“I have.” I look at my hand, wishing her warmth lingered the way its memory has. “She’s the one.”

“Don’t fall in love before you know who she actually is.”

It might be too late for that. “It’s worked for me thus far.”

Lips quirking, Penny turns back to his book and I wonder if Ana is the kind of woman who would appreciate an ode.

Going to the desk, I dig out my quill. First, I need to determine if I can write one worthy of her.