Page 52 of The Scent of Intuition
The thought gnawed at her, a relentless ache that refused to quiet. She didn’t want to be selfish, to prioritize her longing over the well-being of those who depended on Alfie’s skill. Yet the desire she harbored for him was an inescapable force, powerful and insistent. It pounded within her, throbbing in her stomach,a constant reminder of the connection she yearned to deepen. The conflict within her mind was like an open wound, raw and painful. Torn between her love for him and the undeniable truth of his calling, Bea stood at a precipice, uncertain which path would lead to something whole.
What she did know with certainty was that she didn’t want to lose Alfie.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Alfie had watchedBea leave, and he’d had several more clients before he could shut the door to his apothecary shop and work on the truth serum. It was imperative that he help Felix and his friends, but he hated that the man who’d recruited him on a mission that pushed Alfie’s code of honor was the man Bea was supposed to marry. He’d heard her with Pippa, knew that in spite of their interlude in the kitchen, she longed for marriage with the prince.
Could he dare dream that she cared for him with such longing instead of the prince?
Alfie couldn’t rid the image of Bea from his mind, her presence lingering like a ghostly touch even as he worked. The shop was quiet now, the baby’s cries replaced by the steady rhythm of his own breath. He leaned against the counter, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the grain of the wooden surface, replaying the softness of her lips against his.
The memory of their kiss surged through him, both exhilarating and confusing. It wasn’t the first time she had kissed him, but each encounter felt more intense and impossible to ignore. Her unexpected tenderness contradicted the disciplined life he had built within these walls. For every herb he ground and every oil he mixed, thoughts of Bea invaded his focus, unraveling his carefully maintained composure.
He knew he should have resisted and maintained the boundaries society imposed. And yet, he regretted nothing more than keeping to those rules for a whole year when he broughtBea tea, honey, and her ointments. Now that he had the rare chance to be with her, he wasn’t going to squander it. But Bea was a force of nature, her affection seeping into the cracks of his resolve. The world needed him here, rooted in his apothecary, serving those who relied on his healing hands. Yet, a selfish part of him longed for her touch, craved the brief moments when the world outside vanished, and it was just the two of them, wrapped in an unspoken promise.
Alfie pressed his fingers to his lips, as if to capture the lingering sensation of her kiss. The conflict within him was a constant battle between duty and desire, and he realized with a jolt that he was losing ground to his heart’s wild demands.
He tried to focus on his work. One step at a time, he layered the potion to elicit the truth and erase the memory of the baron who was supposed to receive this. He put his little finger to the rim of the beaker and licked a drop off. He grimaced. The mixture needed something to mask the bitter taste of the truth serum. He tried honey, and it was a little better, but it was far from good.
Then he tried aniseed.Awful.
Orange peel oil with clove?
Alfie dripped it carefully into another beaker, added some water, then the truth serum, and… oh no! It smelled like the dried ornaments for a Yuletide dinner at an inn.
Time slipped through Alfie’s fingers like grains of sand as he immersed himself in the meticulous process of crafting the masking liquor for the truth serum. The familiar scent of herbs and tinctures filled the room, grounding him in his work even as his thoughts occasionally drifted to Bea. Here, in the quiet sanctuary of his shop, he found solace in the rhythm of his labor, the steady progress of his creation a reminder of his purpose.
“Taste this,” Alfie said when Felix came into the apothecary for some mint tooth powder for a patient.
“I’m not taking your truth serum.” Felix shrugged.
“Just dip your finger in it and tell me if it tastes odd.”
Felix picked up the beaker and swirled the light liquid, sniffing the air that emanated. “Smells like a lady’s cordial.”
“But it tastes so bitter; I cannot find anything to mask the taste,” Alfie said, pointing at an array of vials and flasks on the counter.
“Then don’t mask it.” Felix found the toothpowder and made a note in the ledger so Alfie could track what was taken and what he had to reimburse him for.
“You’re not helpful.”
“It’s the same as with teeth. Sometimes, you can’t hide the gold, so you polish it, and the patient has to lean into the restoration of a broken tooth. It’s better to restore it than to lose it.” With these words, Felix left.
He was all about teeth, teeth, teeth. Regardless of his work’s brilliance, Alfie’s old friend sometimes annoyed him.
Polish and lean into…wait a minute.
Alfie picked up the beaker with the concentrated truth serum and waved his hand over it.
Then he closed his eyes and focused on the high notes, the first to reach his nose and evoke an image. At first, he couldn’t concentrate all his attention on the olfactory experience. But then, he slowly tuned out the bustling in the hall beyond the closed door of his apothecary and the clip-clopping of hooves from the horse-drawn carriages outside. Suddenly, even the noise of the voices in the hall disappeared.
Time to focus.
Alfie tilted his head and acknowledged the tightness of his starched cravat around his neck. It didn’t matter, and so he ignored it.
Concentration.
Light flickered when people passed by the window of his apothecary or when a large carriage stopped near the building and blocked the light. No more, he decided to turn his inner eye away from the distractions.
