Blind Lust

by Annie Seaton

  “I’ll let you know,” she replied, pulling away from him. The urge to kiss him was quickly overwhelming her.

  “And now I really have to get back to work.” She came around the table to him and sighed, her fingertips lingering on his broad shoulders, at odds with her words.

  He stood and closed the small gap between them. Pulling her gently into his arms, his lips descended on hers, his fingers threading through the streaming cascade of her silver hair. Lizzy returned his kiss for a long breathless interval before pulling back. She looked at him wordlessly as his caressing finger stroked her cheek.

  “I’ll call you,” he said softly.

  The afternoon dragged, and it seemed like forever before Lizzy closed the library and drove around to Wesley’s house.

  He lived in a rambling old house on the corner of Main Street across from the millpond. Even though Wesley was quite wealthy, he had never disclosed to Lizzy the source of his significant income. Wesley was generous, yet lived a very simple lifestyle. All his energies, human and supernatural, went into his beautiful garden.

  She unlatched the front gate and looked down in distress at the dead flower heads on the path under her feet. No flowers nodded in the breeze, the bees were quiet, and the usual birdsong was absent. The garden was dry, and the perfume of the flowers, sharp and decayed. All the windows were closed, their shutters down and Lizzy’s stomach dropped as the deserted house looked grimly down at her.

  Her neck prickling, she walked silently to the back garden, dread in every footstep. The back porch was clear of any furniture, and the back door was firmly locked. Running to the garage, she rattled the side door; it was also locked and bolted.

  Her stomach turned. “Oh, Mother goddess, what has he done?”

  Running back to the front of the house, her breath hitching, she pounded on the front door.

  “Wesley Gordon, you open this door, right this instant.”

  She banged on the door and yelled like a banshee until a quavering voice by her shoulder frightened her. Turning swiftly, she almost knocked old Mr. Henry off his walker. Putting her hand on his arm, she steadied the elderly gentleman.

  “Oh, pardon me, Mr. Henry.”

  “What’s all the racket about, girl?” His voice was irritable.

  “I was trying to raise Wesley,” she replied trying to catch her breath.

  “Well, he’s gone. Packed up and left first thing this morning. Didn’t even say goodbye, the inconsiderate young rascal.”

  “Packed up…?” Lizzy’s voice was shrill. “On his motorbike?”

  “No, a truck came, took a few boxes, and odds and ends. He loaded his bike in the truck, and off they went.”

  “They…? Who…? Where to?”

  “I don’t know, girl; didn’t he tell you? We half thought you were finally going to let him move in with you. Mrs. Henry and I were hoping…”

  Lizzy was embarrassed. “Oh, well, I am sure he will call me tonight.”

  Bidding the old man farewell, she walked slowly to her car, her throat aching with the tears she held back. She knew Wesley so well. He had hidden his hurt from her. She knew she had disappointed him. She should have stayed and made her peace last night. Her heart aching, she rubbed her hands over her lips, where the taste of Josh lingered.

  Damn you, Cupid. I am going to sort this out once and for all. My life was going along quite nicely without your arrow.

  On the way home, she drove to Helen’s farm, a plan fixed firmly in her mind. She was not going to go within two yards of Josh, although she did yearn for just a teensy glimpse of him.

  For the second time that afternoon, Lizzy pounded on a door with no answer. She threaded a note through the latch inviting Josh for dinner at her cottage on Saturday night. If all went to her plan, the lustful, sensual passion embedded in her soul would be short-lived, and she could then put her power to work finding Wesley.

  Josh drove home slowly, a warm, rosy feeling in his chest. He was almost bursting with happiness, despite being away from his home and city for the next eleven weeks. Taking a deep breath, he brought his hand to his nose, inhaling the citrus scent that lingered on his fingers from Lizzy’s hair. Eleven weeks to convince her to leave this godforsaken valley and move back to Nashville with him.

  New lyrics flitted through his head. He parked the Porsche in the barn and ran for the door before they whispered off into the air.

  He saw the pink note in the latch and punched the air when he read the invitation.

  “Yes!”

  Chapter 8

  FRIDAY WAS LIZZY’S DAY off work. She had to find a spell to reverse the effects of Cupid’s arrow. She knew the ingredients she needed for the meal, the foods and herbs that dispelled lust, but the words of the incantation and the mix of the potion eluded her.

  Basket over her arm, she smiled at the nodding branches of the pear tree laden with fruit. She picked two perfect pears and placed them gently in her basket. Walking across the grass to the magnolia tree, Lizzy reached up and picked the last blossom left from the spring and added it to the pears in the basket.

  The fuzzy leaves of the patchouli bush in her herb garden brushed her fingers. The spicy, aromatic smell wafted across the garden while she carefully picked the white flowers. After gathering a sprig of peppermint and six radishes, her collection was complete.

  She spread the herbs out to dry on the counter in the sun and made a couple of telephone calls.

  “Hey, Lizzy,” her mother greeted her with delight. “Everything okay?”

  “A couple of little problems, Mama.” Lizzy rolled her eyes at herself in the mirror in the hallway, where she sat on the yellow velvet loveseat. Her fingers plucked at the tassels on the side of the seat. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “I dreamed about you and Wesley last night, Lizzy. I am hoping it was an omen.” Her mother sounded hopeful. “Have you finally succumbed to our beautiful boy?”

  Lizzy held back a groan. “Why? Have you been talking to Wesley?” she asked tentatively.

  “No, just a dream. Your father and I were hoping.”

  “No, Mama, we are just best friends. I was actually looking for a spell.”

  “Have you tried the internet?”

  Lizzy rolled her eyes. Was everyone connected these days?

  “No, Mama, I was hoping to find Gran’s old spell book.”

  “You’ll have to ring Gran, and Lizzy, you must get with the times. It’s at your fingertips online now.”

  “Okay, Mama. Give my love to Dad.” She rang off and reluctantly called her grandmother.

  “Hey, Gran. How’s the heat in Florida?”

  The sweet tones of her grandmother’s youthful voice made Lizzy even lonelier. “Hello, my dearest, I was waiting for you to call before I went to golf.”

  Lizzy’s heart skipped a beat. “Is Wesley down there with you?”

  “Now, why would you think that—you haven’t been fighting with our darling boy, have you?”

  “No, Gran.” Lizzy glared across the foyer, watching the dust mites drift through the sunshine. Darling boy, indeed. “Gran, can I ask you something?”

  “Anything, my darling girl. What can I help you with?”

  “I remember years ago you told me a story about Cupid and his arrows. I remember something about leaden and golden arrows and how they serve a different purpose?”

  Gran sighed softly. “Yes, dear, I had occasion to source a spell to dispel the physical energy of a leaden arrow once upon a time. It’s a very hard thing to shift.”

  “What was the spell?” Lizzy asked anxiously.

  “Oh, it was long ago, before I even met your Gramps. You’ll find it in the attic, in my little heart-shaped spell book. You know the one, full of love spells and potions. You used to love it when you were a little girl.”

  Lizzy was keen to ring off and run up to the attic, but Gran kept her chatting for a few more minutes.

  “When are you coming to visit, sweetheart?”


  “Maybe in the fall. I’m thinking of going to Nashville for a holiday soon,” replied Lizzy.

  After hanging up, she headed straight for the attic. Pulling down the little steps hidden in the corner of the spare room, she pushed open the small door in the ceiling and climbed up into the dark room.

  Choking as she disturbed the dust, she pointed at the far wall and sent a small flame from her fingertips to light the row of candles sitting on the shelf in the corner. The attic was a treasure trove of dust and spiders. Spider webs hung in garlands from the ceiling, looping around the old-fashioned candelabra on the table in the center of the attic. Lizzy rummaged through the piles of old books and clothes, covering her mouth with one hand as years of dust rose and floated gently around her.

  “Yes!” Triumphant, she saw the corner of the little, old, heart-shaped book poking out of the corner of the second trunk she searched.

  Clutching it to her chest, she backed through the old furniture toward the entry in the floor. She turned and pointed at the candelabra to douse the flames before climbing down the ladder. Laughing, she caught sight of her reflection in the old mirror at the end of the hallway. She looked like an old crone: her hair covered in gray dust, smudges of dirt colored her cheeks, and her clothes were filthy. Perhaps if Josh could see her now, he would run away, and she would have no need for a spell.

  A quick shower, change of clothes, and a long glass of iced mint tea later, Lizzy settled comfortably in the hammock on her front porch and dipped into Gran’s book. On the second-to-last page, a picture of a little cherub holding a bow sat above the words she sought, and she smiled.

  Closing her eyes, she held the book and swung gently in the morning breeze. The warm sunshine and the sound of bees buzzing as they drank from her garden lulled her into a light sleep. She dreamed of Josh, and in her dream, she lazily flicked a finger through the window toward her stereo. The gentle rhythm of a guitar preceded his sad voice drifting out to the porch. She smiled in her sleep while he sang of hopeless love.

  “And I’m always hoping one sunny day, I’m gonna stop this runnin’ around. And find my one true love, but every chance that comes, I run the other way.”

  Josh reached for her in the dream, her body cocooned in warmth, and she rested her head on his shoulder. Sweetness and joy surrounded her. His soulful brown eyes smiled back at her. He leaned in to kiss her, but his eyes turned deep blue, and suddenly Wesley looked down at her, his face alight with intense joy. She opened her mouth to him and murmured.

  “My love.”

  She woke with a start, feeling disorientated when the music turned into a loud, thumping, boot-scooting song. Where the hell had that dream come from?

  Lizzy flicked a finger at the stereo and turned the music off on the way to the kitchen.

  Reaching for the mortar and pestle on the windowsill, she crumbled the dried herbs into the bowl. Frowning, she pounded the patchouli leaves, her temper simmering. Why was everyone so keen to get Wesley into her bed and her life? Why did she dream of Wesley? She had a good mind to take Josh on, even after Cupid’s arrow was gone, and go to Nashville with him just to show her family and Wesley she was in charge of her own destiny. The pungent smell of crushed herbs surrounded her as she muttered crossly to herself.

  Wesley Gordon turned to Lizzy’s grandmother and watched her carefully replace the phone in its cradle.

  “Well?” he asked eagerly. “Did she seem upset?”

  “Mmm, not really. A bit preoccupied. She did ask if you were here, though.”

  He smiled, pleased to hear Lizzy was looking for him.

  “Is she coming to find me after she dispels the energy?” He would be ready for her when she arrived.

  “No,” replied Lizzy’s grandmother. “She said she is going to Nashville.”

  As Wesley slammed the door behind him and yelled into the air, the thunderclap he conjured reverberated across the storm clouds and echoed across three states.

  Chapter 9

  JOSH TAPPED LIGHTLY ON Lizzy’s door, sniffing appreciatively at the aromas wafting from the kitchen. He had been in the valley for over a week, living on bread, soup, and fruit from Helen’s orchard. The muse held him in a tight grip, and he only left the farm to go to the library and the public phone.

  After his gaff in the store, he didn’t feel much like going back in for another visit to buy food. The old folk would probably poison it anyway.

  Lizzy stood at the door, a sheer mauve gown floating from her shoulders. His groin tightened when the citrus smell of her hair drifted over to him. Ignoring the spike of lust, Josh leaned toward her and gave her a gentle kiss on her soft cheek.

  She seemed elusive tonight; perhaps it was the candlelight silhouetting her that made her seem aloof.

  “Come in, Josh. You had no trouble finding my cottage?” Her voice tinkled like crystal and her eyes looked dreamy. Remembering his manners, he pulled scarlet roses from behind his back and handed them to her.

  “Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady.” He stifled a groan. You’re a songwriter, man, and that’s the best you can come up with?

  Lizzy buried her face in the red petals, and Josh caught a glimpse of a single tear rolling slowly down her cheek. “From Helen’s garden?” Her voice was muffled.

  “Yes, they looked like they needed company.”

  “They are beautiful, thank you, Josh.” She raised her eyes to his, and her gaze was clear and steady.

  Lizzy ushered Josh into the living room, and he caught his breath. Dozens of candles shimmered in the soft evening light. Rainbow colors reflected from the crystals hanging from the window frames. Scented candles floated in bowls of flowers that perfumed the room with sweetness. Pale mauve amethysts and shiny black pebbles sat next to each bowl.

  Aunt Helen had loved candles and flowers, he remembered. Candles and flowers and porcelain bowls.

  Josh picked up a small, shiny pebble and rolled it between his fingertips. For such a cold stone, it quickly warmed his fingers. Lizzy smiled at him.

  “Obsidian, for strengthening the spirit, a good choice.”

  Crossing to the table, Lizzy held up a long slender bottle and uncorked it. A subtle floral aroma pervaded the room. She poured the pale golden liquid into two long-stemmed crystal glasses.

  “Apple wine.” She handed him a glass, and he sipped tentatively. “I make my own, from the apples in your orchard.”

  His throat warmed as the smooth liquid slipped down. “Mmm, a potent brew.”

  Lizzy smiled at him, and the warmth spread to his groin. “I have prepared the guest room for you, if you would like to indulge tonight.”

  His head flew up, anticipation rushing through his body. Stepping over to her, he gently kissed her lips. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back. “I would be honored to indulge you.”

  “Indulge in my wine and food.” She shook her head gently and smiled a secret smile. “That will be enough indulgence for the present. Sit in front of the fire, Josh. I’m glad it is cool enough for a fire tonight; it makes the room cheery. I have a couple of things to finish up in the kitchen.”

  He looked up feeling sheepish. “Would you think me terribly rude if I used your computer to check my emails while you are in the kitchen?”

  Her soft laugh sent delicious shivers down his back.

  She placed her hand on his arm. “Josh, I don’t have a computer.”

  He felt his mouth drop open and he closed it quickly, trying to figure out if she was serious. “How do you keep in touch? Where do you tweet?” he asked.

  She smiled gently saying, “Tweet? Birds tweet.”

  “Twitter, Facebook, email. How do you know what’s happening?”

  “I look out the window. I see the sun. I listen to the birds, that’s all the tweeting I need. All I need to know, I find through people I see,” she replied quietly.

  Josh looked at her, astonished. In this day, he could not believe someone of his generation could be so out of touch and remai
n blasé about it. “I’ll have to teach you. I would love you to come and visit me when I go home to Nashville.” Josh was excited by the thought of this beautiful woman in his home.

  “No need to rush into anything,” she replied. “You may find you are finished with me by then.”

  He looked up at her, and another spike of lust hit his loins. He shook his head. “Never, Lizzy, not the way I feel about you.”

  “Come into the kitchen, and talk to me while I work. Bring your wine.”

  Josh settled comfortably on a high stool at the counter in the kitchen and watched her slender white hands sprinkle chopped peppermint leaves over a tray of cheese, garnished with pink radishes. She bent and removed a tray from the oven. He closed his eyes and tried to hold back the spikes of desire that shafted through his body when the filmy dress clung to the outline of her very shapely bottom.

  “Now Josh, I want you to do something for me,” Lizzy pushed her hair away from her face which was flushed from the heat of the oven.

  “I’ll do anything,” he laughed and then paused. He realized he meant it. He would do anything for this beautiful woman; he had never felt like this before in his life. “As long as those delicious aromas are my dinner, I am in your hands.”

  She reached for a bowl and filled it with water, placed a withered magnolia flower on the counter, and lit a candle next to the bowl.

  “Close your eyes, Josh.” Her voice was soft. “Clear your mind of everything except how you are feeling right now.”

  He looked at her thoughtfully. “Why?”

  “Trust me Josh, and trust your feelings.”

  He closed his eyes, his hands gripping the edge of the stool. The apple wine was potent, and he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Wine on an empty stomach was never kind to him. Her soft voice lulled him.

  “Forget about the wine, Josh. Think about your feelings.”

  The only thing he could feel was the tightening in his groin and the lack of blood going anywhere else. He could feel himself swell when he thought of Lizzy. She fed his masculinity, and his body craved her. The candle hissed, and the sound of water dripping into the bowl lulled his senses. A fragrance of patchouli and mint drifted past him with a soft whisper.