Page 26 of Maid for the Greek's Ring

Unnerved by the idea that he and Effie had something in common other than the deal they had made, he picked up one of the vials at random and opened it. It was numbered, not named, but he knew immediately that it was lemon.

Feeling pleased, he picked another. That was harder. It was spicy. Like Christmas. Cinnamon? Cloves? He frowned and held up a third to his nose, breathed—

His heartbeat stumbled, then stopped. He felt his face dissolve with shock.

He was back in England. It was a cold, wet day, and he was cold, and his clothes were wet, and he ached everywhere—but especially in his chest. He felt desperate and wretched and lonely, winded by loneliness...

With an effort, he pulled his face from the black velvet gravity inside the open bottle and placed it down with extravagant care. ‘What is this?’

Effie glanced sideways at the bottle. ‘That’s a synthetic for oakmoss. The original was—’

She looked up and frowned. She was talking to herself. Achileas was gone.

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