Page 1 of The Truth Serum (My Lady’s Potions #2)

“B ut what are you going to do?”

Lord Nathanial, third son of Earl of Killeagh, looked up into the sky to contemplate the question. He wasn’t going to answer Becca’s question out loud. He was a man of action, he told himself. He was going to kiss her.

Today.

He’d been thinking about it for weeks now, planning for just this moment. It was a beautiful summer afternoon, they were down by the creek supposedly studying Paul’s letters to the Thessalonians after the parish children had been called home by their mother. Which left them blissfully alone.

Now was his moment, and yet he couldn’t quite do it.

First, he needed to inch closer. He shifted off the rock to settle on the blanket beside her.

It was an awkward motion, and he was sure she knew what he was about.

After all, she shot him a playful look under her bonnet.

But then she repeated her question, this time with more force.

“Seriously, Nate. If you won’t go into the clergy—”

“Ugh,” he groaned, cutting her off. “You know I’d be a disaster there.” He couldn’t sit still through a Sunday service. How was he going to live the life of a priest? The most exciting thing they got to do was drink wine. He could do that without getting frocked.

“The military then—”

He kicked at a rock and watched it splash into the stream. “There isn’t enough money to buy two commissions. Simon’s older, he’s planned for this forever, and—”

“Your grandmother wants you baptizing all the parish babies.”

He rolled his eyes. His grandmother had lots of ideas about his future, none of which interested him. Fortunately, the only person who listened to her was the vicar, and Nate had been fobbing that man off for years.

“Maybe I want to spend my days reading books with you.”

Her expression softened. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

The only thing better would be kissing her. A lot.

“What does your father think?”

That school was expensive. That his mother spent too much money in London.

That the farmers weren’t working hard enough, which was a lie.

Whenever Nate wasn’t “studying with the vicar” (his own lie so he could spend time with Becca), he was helping with the crops or the pigs or repairing someone’s roof—endless tasks for their tenants in the hopes that it would turn the family’s finances around.

It hadn’t so far, but maybe this would be the year that everything worked out.

And with that thought in mind, he turned his attention back to the beautiful Lady Rebecca.

Auburn hair, blue eyes, and one dimple on her left cheek.

She thought her nose too big and her hair too curly beneath her demure bonnet, but all he’d thought about for the last month was kissing her full lips and touching her sweet curves.

She was nothing like he’d been taught to expect. Thanks to the feud between their families, he’d expected her to be a shriveled prune with hoary skin and a devil’s tail. She’d been taught to expect the same of him.

But the vicar was a reforming sort. He thought a feud between the two reigning families was an invitation to the devil. So he’d conspired to get the earl’s youngest son (Nate) and the viscount’s youngest daughter (Becca) into a friendship.

That had been three summers ago. Becca’s family had been told she was teaching the village children their letters.

Nate’s family had been informed that he must study the Bible in preparation for the clergy.

Then the two children had discovered that their activities occurred in the same location, and the vicar had been lax in his supervision.

He’d even given them their first novel to read, as long as they read a chapter of the Bible for every chapter in the book.

This was their fourth summer together, and Nate was determined to end the feud for good. He was going to kiss her. He was thinking about marrying her. But first, he had to see if she was amenable.

“Nate!” Becca said, her voice light despite her frown. “You’re seventeen. What are you going to do when you graduate?”

“Become a pirate,” he quipped. “I’m going to sail the seven seas, gather booty, and rescue stolen princesses.” So saying, he grabbed her ever-present stitching and pulled it from her hands.

“I don’t know that there are very many stolen princesses to rescue.” Her brows were arched, her expression coy, but he knew her moods as well as his own. He knew she was as tired of mending clothing as he was of Paul’s letters to the Thessalonians.

“I’ll find one,” he said as he drew closer to her. “Maybe one with golden locks and rosy cheeks. Someone who is sick to death of tending to the poor. Someone who wants a life of adventure.”

She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling. “Adventure, you say? That doesn’t sound at all proper.”

“Which is why you like it.”

“No,” she said as she lifted her chin. “That’s why you like it. I’m a proper girl.”

“Liar,” he accused, as he drew closer.

“Never,” she countered, but she didn’t draw away.

He could smell the lemon scent on her hair, but it was the sweet catch of her breath that drew him. Her cheeks flushed rose and her lips parted.

“Becca,” he whispered. “If I were a pirate, I’d whisk you away from here.”

She leaned toward him. “Where would we go?”

“To my ship, where I would clothe you in pearls.”

“Pearls? That’s hardly clothing.”

“It would be for you. Just pearls. Nothing else.” He stroked a finger up the side of her arm, watching the goosebumps trail in his wake.

“Pearls are very impractical.”

“That’s why I like them.”

“What if I don’t like pearls? What if I prefer silk?”

He frowned. “Since when don’t you like pearls?”

“Since when do I love silk?”

“Always! You called it the most heavenly fabric in existence. Ever since your mother brought a bolt back from London.”

She stared at him. “You remember that?”

Of course he did. He remembered everything about her. “It’s hard to forget,” he drawled. “You went on and on and on—”

“I did not!” she cried. She made to hit him on the shoulder, but she missed because he had seen the movement coming. Indeed, he’d known she would do it, and so he caught her hand and then rolled away from her.

She went with him because he was pulling her forward. And when she lost her balance, he spread his arms wide so she would land on his chest.

“Oh my,” she whispered. “I believe I have been caught by a wicked pirate.”

His expression grew serious. “Have you? Have you truly?”

He caressed her cheek, then pulled her bonnet ribbons apart. She tugged it off her head. Her hair spilled down, rich and luxurious, but his gaze remained locked on hers.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Are you a wicked pirate?”

“Absolutely.” He threaded his fingers through her hair and drew her down to his mouth. It was a fumbling kind of kiss. Too much pressure, then too little, then a slow maneuvering between them both. He let her settle, and she let him tease her lips with his tongue.

They soon got the hang of it, and he had never been happier. Never, until the next afternoon by the creek. Or the next morning behind the vicarage. Or any of a million stolen moments they spent debating his future while pretending to study theology.

Unlike him, her path was set. She was the daughter of a wealthy viscount who would marry a titled gentleman and have a pack of fat, happy babies. She might express interest in plants and medicine, but her destiny was as a wife and mother.

His future, however, was murky, wholly dependent upon if his family could find the money to send him to university.

And of course, what would he study there, when he’d much rather be out sailing the high seas or training with a bayonet?

Mostly, he wanted to be with her because she asked him questions no one else asked.

Was it fair for the magistrate to take away Farmer John’s pig just because he’d stolen it from Farmer Tom? John had raised it like a family member for two years. Didn’t two years of care and feeding count for anything?

Who was the guilty party when a lame veteran stole to feed his family?

Was it safe to use heavy sauces when the meat has gone off? Especially if one could not afford better food?

And why did he always answer her with kisses rather than admit he had no answer?

Because he loved the taste of her lips. Because she gasped when he touched her breasts, and he adored the dazed look in her eyes when he showed her how to feel good.

And because one day, he would marry her and end the ridiculous feud between their two families.

She was an heiress. Her dowry property was large and on the coast. It would sustain them both, especially since he had skill in managing crops and tenants.

And where better to learn about piracy than from there?

So he kissed her whenever he could. He stroked her breasts whenever she allowed it.

And because he was a gentleman, he held back from the rest. Though he whispered to her about it.

He told her, in great detail, the things that married couples did.

He’d learned them from his older brothers, and he planned to discover them all with her.

And she was willing.

Until the day they were caught.

That was the day that the vicar lost his position. It was also the same day Rebecca’s father had a heart attack and died.

And the very next day, Nate was sent for “special education” with the Foreign Office.