Claire Delacroix (31 page)

Her labor of love was gone, out of Viviane’s hands, as simply as that.

Suddenly, she wanted the parcels back. She wanted to go over the story one more time, make Gawain just a little bit more noble, perhaps change one last thing. She knew she could make it better, given just a few more moments. Viviane actually stepped closer to the counter and opened her mouth to ask for them back.

But Niall caught her around the waist. “There is naught to be done about it now,” he murmured in her ear, as though he had read her thoughts. “You have done your best and now your tale must fend for itself.”

“But oh, Niall, I need to know whether they’ll like it! How can I possibly wait?”

“The book declares ’twill be two to three months before you might have a response and Barb is skeptical of even that timing.” Niall shook his head and laced their fingers together. “We shall have to find other things to occupy us.”

He looked so smug that Viviane could guess what some of those things might be.

She grinned and matched her step to his, more than ready to tease him a bit. “Like what?” They stepped out into a surprisingly balmy evening. Ganges was quiet, the sky was dark dark blue smeared with the glorious shades of a sunset.

Niall slanted a green glance her way. “We could be wed.”

“Because you love me?”

He snorted in a very unflattering way. “Viviane, we have spoken much of love and its over-rated charms. I would wed you because we are well-suited, each to the other, and the match would be most sensible.”

“I’ll only marry a man who loves me and you know it.”

Niall growled something in his throat that Viviane was glad she couldn’t quite hear. Then he pivoted, clamped his hands on her shoulders and stared into her eyes. He looked more than a little bit determined.

“Would you have me lie to you?” he demanded. “Is this what you wish? Viviane, ’tis not my way to speak a falsehood, but you tempt a man overmuch when you refuse to see sense.”

“I would know if you were lying anyway,” she replied, then tapped his nose with one fingertip. “It would show in your eyes.” She smiled and stretched to kiss him, but Niall stepped away.

“Viviane! You muddy the issue!” He shoved a hand through his hair and flicked a hot glance toward her. “Wed me.”

“No. Not until you admit you love me.”

Niall shook his head and strode down the street, Viviane hot on his heels. “You are a cursedly stubborn woman,” he muttered darkly, which only made Viviane laugh.

“While you aren’t stubborn at all,” she retorted with a smile. She linked her arm through his, knowing that he couldn’t be so annoyed with her if he didn’t have some feelings for her.

It was a matter of principle, though - she would have his sweet confession before she gave her pledge.

They had made a wager. And Barb had reminded her that a man should be judged by his deeds. Niall certainly had done the deeds of a man interested in supporting Viviane’s desires.

He’d come around to confessing, she just knew it.

Viviane was content to let him take his time mustering up the L-word. Her destined knight was here and she was pretty happy with the way things were working out.

“We should do something to celebrate, though,” she suggested cheerfully. “After all, we’ve both worked hard to see this book on its way.” She pressed a grateful kiss to Niall’s cheek. “Thank you for your help, by the way. It was very sweet of you to take an interest.”

“Sweet,” he muttered, a dull glow rising on the back of his neck. “’Tis the first time I have been called that.”

“Well, you
are
sweet.”

“Would you wed a man for his sweetness?”

“No. Only for love.” He shook his head and turned away, but seemed content to let Viviane keep her hand in the warm crook of his elbow.

“Now, what shall we do?” Viviane was very aware that she was wearing her green rubbers, mainly because they had seemed a sensible choice of footwear in the bit of misty rain they’d had all day. Those boots clomped inelegantly on the damp sidewalk now, the sound making Viviane sure that she knew what Niall was thinking. She even started to blush, imagining that everyone else on the street could guess what they were thinking.

But Niall halted in the street and turned to face Viviane, his expression wary. “Perhaps you could return the favor I have done you and do a deed for me.”

There was something about his tone that made Viviane cautious, as though he knew that she wouldn’t like whatever suggestion he was going to make.

But she couldn’t imagine how that could be.

She smiled, sure he had just been flipping through that book again. Who knew what he had found now? “Like what?”

Niall did not smile. “Return to Cantlecroft with me.”

The unexpected words shook Viviane to her core. “Cantlecroft!” She danced backward when Niall might have grasped her arms, his expression telling her that this wasn’t a joke. “I told you, Niall, that I’ll never go back there! How could you even ask me to go to certain death?”

“Viviane, ’twill not be thus.” Niall was earnest and was talking fast. “I shall vouch for you, I shall see your name cleared, I shall ensure that the archbishop grants you the hearing you deserve. His is a man of honor! You shall see that all will resolve itself and your name will be cleared...”

“But, Niall, I don’t care!” Viviane flung out her hands. “What earthly reason is there to go back and to bother with any of it? Let’s just stay here.”

Niall’s lips tightened and he looked away. “Viviane, I cannot.”

Viviane stared at him. Something
was
wrong.

Very wrong. Why did Niall have to go back to Cantlecroft? Was she going to lose him, after all?

“Why not?” Viviane whispered, the words barely making it past the lump in her throat.

Niall frowned and pushed his hand through his hair. “I have obligations in Cantlecroft,” he said in a low voice, his manner that of a man confessing something he would prefer to hold back.

“What kind of obligations?” Viviane asked, refusing to imagine the worst. He was pledged to the archbishop, that was it. That was why he had gone on about oaths of fealty before.

Maybe he hadn’t been released from that man’s service. Trust Niall to worry about a technicality like that.

The knight in question heaved a sigh so heartfelt that Viviane’s trepidation grew. “I have pledged to return to Majella and to ensure the support of the children...”

Majella? Who was Majella?

And
children
? Viviane was quite certain that her knight in shining armor shouldn’t come equipped with a woman and dependents.

“What children?” she demanded, her voice rising shrilly. “And who is Majella? What haven’t you told me?”

Niall reached for her hand, his eyes shining with sincerity. But how could he be sincere? Viviane had always thought Niall had been honest with her, but his failure to tell her about Majella and the children was telling.

How could this be a misunderstanding?

“Viviane, I can explain, if you but grant me a moment...”

“No!” Viviane shook a finger beneath his nose. “There’s nothing to explain. There’s only
one
reason that children are dependent upon a man’s support and that’s that he’s their father!” She nearly choked on her disappointment. “Oh, Niall, how could you
do
this? How could I have been so wrong about you? How could you deceive me this way?”

“Viviane, nay! ’Twas never my intent to deceive you!”

But Viviane spun away from him, not wanting him to see the sudden rise of her tears. “How could you want to marry me when you’re obligated to Majella and the children?”

Viviane didn’t really want to hear his explanation. It could only be a lie.

She just wanted to get away.

Those tears ensured that she couldn’t see where she was going, so when she spun away from Niall, she promptly walked right into someone else.

“Hey, Viviane, like where’s the fire?” Monty demanded, steadying her with his hands on her shoulders.

Viviane took one look at him and started to cry in a most inelegant way. “He lied to me! Monty, Niall lied to me!”

Monty gave her a hug. “Oh yeah, babe, don’t I know it.” He glared over her shoulder at Niall, who Viviane could feel hovering right behind her.

And exuding disapproval. Well, she certainly didn’t owe anything to a man who mislead her about his emotional ties!

“Viviane, I can explain,” Niall insisted, his voice sounding strained. “Cease your weeping that we might talk.”

“I don’t think so, pal,” Monty interjected coldly. “Besides, the lady and I have a date tonight and you’re not invited.”

What date? Viviane glanced up, then realized that this was Saturday. She had forgotten the sabbat until this very moment. Her move gave her an inadvertent glimpse of Niall bristling.

“What nonsense is this?” he demanded.

“We’re off to a witches’ sabbat,” Monty confided. “Not something you’d be interested in, given your dislike of witches.”

Niall visibly simmered. “And what,” he asked, his voice strained “would be a witches’ sabbat?”

“Oh, a little naked dancing under the full moon, a few spells, some drinking and dancing. Sounds like a good party to me.”

Monty grinned.

And when Niall turned to her, his eyes flashing like lightning, Viviane wished she was just about anywhere else on the face of the earth.

Of course, she’d never give him the satisfaction of seeing that. And she had a few things to tell Niall of Malloy, starting right here and now.

* * *

Matters could not have progressed worse, if Niall had planned for all to go awry.

“Witches!” he echoed, stunned that Viviane would even consider such a course. “Why would you consort with witches? Why would you even consider such foolishness?”

Viviane tossed her hair with defiance. “You can’t blame me for wanting to know more about it,” she declared, as though there was naught illogical about her choice at all. “It’s only natural to be curious about it, since I’ve been convicted of being one.”

“Natural!” Niall flung out his hands and let his voice rise, not caring who listened. The woman risked her very hide! “’Tis only
natural
to steer a wide course of such types, that you not jeopardize any chance to prove your innocence!”

But Viviane stepped forward, her eyes snapping fire and her finger jabbing at his chest. “What difference does it make to you what happens to me?” The hurt in her voice was unmistakable. “You’ve got Majella and all your little obligations to worry about!”

“Viviane!” Niall snatched at her hand, but Viviane backed away. “My concern for Majella is as naught compared to that for you.”

Viviane rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. “That seems unlikely!”

“How is it unlikely that I should be concerned for the welfare of the woman I would wed?” Niall retorted. He did not like the stubborn glint in his lady’s eye. “How is that good sense?”

“You mean you didn’t even marry this Majella? How many little obligations has she given you? Or maybe I should ask how many you’ve given her! Is that why you didn’t want me to have my rubbers?”

“Viviane!” Niall roared, desperately trying to get the conversation back on course. “Would you be condemned here as well as in Cantlecroft?” he demanded. “Would you see a repeat of the past?”

Niall’s voice rose when Viviane seemed unswayed by this. “Zounds, Viviane! ’Tis said that people of sense learn from all that has befallen them, and truly, I thought you had more sense than this! Do not consort with witches, I beg of you!”

Viviane’s features softened slightly, though her expression was still wary. “Are you worried about me?”

“Of course I am worried about your welfare,” Niall snapped. “What man of sense would not be?”

Viviane lifted her chin. “Well, you could temper your response a bit. A person could think that you were angry with them when you shout so...”

“I am angered with you!” Niall roared. “What manner of witless fool needs to be condemned
twice
to die?”

Viviane froze, her expression less than encouraging, but before Niall could try to repair the damage, Monty stepped forward. “Hey, don’t sweat it, big guy. We don’t condemn witches here. That’s pretty medieval stuff.” He smiled so cockily that Niall longed to force the smile from his face.

As though to add insult to injury, that man put his arm around Viviane’s shoulders and she did not shrug off its weight. “So, the lady’s like safe here with me. Feel free to trot on home to your
obligations
.”

Monty smiled at him, Viviane’s gaze shimmered with unshed tears though her lips were set tightly. Niall knew he was losing this argument badly.

And ’twas Viviane who would pay the price.

“Viviane!” Niall dropped his voice with an effort, instead of continuing to shout as he would have preferred. He could feel his annoyance with her - or more accurately, her stunning disregard for her own welfare - thrumming through his voice, but he fought for control over his unruly response.

He had to make her understand.

First, about the witches. Second, about Majella. A few moments of level-headedness and clear thinking would prevail.

Niall hoped.

He met her gaze unblinkingly. “Viviane, you must consider the wisdom of what you would do. To be sure, you have escaped the weight of your conviction, and even if this one speaks aright and there is no such penalty here, a return to Cantlecroft once you are known to have consorted with witches could...”

“But Niall, I’m not going back to Cantlecroft.” Her lips thinned as she took a step back. “Don’t let me keep you from Majella.”

“Nay, Viviane, ’tis true enough that I have a commitment in Cantlecroft, for Majella is ripe with child and I fear greatly what shall transpire in my absence. She is not a woman of good sense in the best of times...”

“With child?!” Viviane cried, as upset as Niall had ever seen her. “How could you leave her pregnant? How could you, Niall? How could you follow me and seduce me and do all those things with me when Majella was pregnant and alone? Oh, you’re not the kind of man I thought you were, not at all!”