Once Upon a Romance 02 - As The Last Petal Falls (8 page)

“I’m sure the king is grateful for your sacrifice.” She was trying to sincerely compliment them, but Connelly snorted and MacTíre gave her a bitter smile.

“I doubt it, beauty, but it’s nice of you to say so.” He raised an eyebrow at Connelly. “I assume you have a moment in your busy schedule to sit with Miss Wellesley while I go speak with the men?”

“I do
not
need a nursemaid. I’m not some babe in swaddling clothes!” Vivi hissed hotly. She objected to being laughed at when she was attempting to be gracious, and objected even more to the casual way MacTíre discussed her disposal without even consulting her. It was insulting.

“Then consider it a courtesy ta me, lassie. It has been many a long day since I had a few hours ta while away in the company of a beautiful woman. Let me rest my weary toes, an’ beguile me with yer winnin’ ways.” He waggled his eyebrows at her in such a ridiculously suggestive manner she was tempted to giggle. Instead she gathered her most dignified air.

“Well, since you asked so prettily,” she paused to throw a glare at the enormous, ill-bred idiot who already had one foot out the door, “I consent.”

“Good.” Then he was through the door and gone.

Vivienne stared thoughtfully at the closed door, pondering what she’d just heard. Connelly waited a moment, and then broke into her thoughts.

“Yer lookin’ pensive, lassie.”

“Tell me something, Master Connelly.” Vivienne turned to face the little man. “Why does Master MacTíre need to meet with the men, if the whole keep is merely waiting out the storm ?”

“There’s always future plans, lass. A leader of men is never done with ’em.”

Vivi’s attentioned sharpened. The jovial little man had sounded serious, almost sad, even. “And what kind of leader is Fain MacTíre, then?”

“Imperfect, like all of ’em. Better than most. A bit prone ta broodin’, if ye want mine own opinion.” His tone lightened with his final remark. “Why might ye be so interested, my lost little waif?” His eyes twinkled at her, as though he had found something to tease her about.

“Oh, no reason, I suppose. I mean, it isn’t as though I find myself alone and injured, surrounded by strange men, in the power of their leader. Why on earth would I care to know more about him?” she drawled.

“I bow ta yer superior wit, lassie. How else may I satisfy yer perfectly reasonable curiosity?”

Vivienne tried to focus, but her head started to ache. She knew there were other things she wanted to ask, things that had seemed strange, things that needed an explanation; but the harder she tried to remember the more her temples pounded. She lifted her left hand to make small circles above her ear, and Connelly clucked sympathetically.

“Never mind, lass. Yer done in. ’Twill be time, later. Plenty of time, unless I miss my guess. For now, rest; I’ll be here if ye need me.”

She tried to hold on, but Connelly’s hands soothed her head, and Vivi drifted away into blessedly pain-free darkness.

Fain strode into the great hall, greeting the assembled men. Most of the keep’s inhabitants were milling about, having been notified that Fain expected everyone without an active duty to be there. He made his way to the table nearest the hearth and leapt atop it. Billy Notter wormed his way free of the crowd and clambered up to sit on the table at Fain’s feet, his own small boots swinging in the air. Everyone else fell silent, waiting for their leader to address them.

“First of all, lads, I’m sure most of you have heard that we have a guest staying with us.” A murmur went through the room, and heads began nodding. “The pack found a young woman half frozen outside our gates. She is hurt, and ill, and probably won’t make an appearance for days yet.” He spoke matter-of-factly, but as he continued a low rumble entered his voice. “
However
, when she’s well enough to move through the keep, I expect certain things from all of you. First, be discreet.” The men nodded vigorously. “She claims she’s just lost, but you all know our position is too precarious to trust that. Second, I expect all of you to behave.” There were snickers and elbows, but Fain wasn’t smiling, and the growl in his voice became more obvious. “You all have your turns at home, where you can debauch yourselves as much as you please, and I expect you to get it out of your system
there
. Whatever else this lady is, she’s a woman alone, and I expect you all to treat her with propriety.” Most of the men had sobered, and were back to nodding. A few looked comically bereft.

“It still counts as propriety if she’s willing, doesn’t it, lads?” Simon Legrey called across the hall. There was a chorus of laughter, and shouted agreement. Fain scowled at the men, and waited until they quieted.

“That’s all. Those of you who aren’t headed out on the next hunt are dismissed. All the hunters can step forward for your briefing.”

It took a few moments for the room to empty, while the group he’d asked to remain gathered by the hearth. Fain spent the time spreading a map on the table, and fielding questions from Billy, who capered around his feet.

“What’s her name? What’s she look like, Fain? Does her arm hurt real bad?”

Fain gave out answers as best he could, trying to be fair. Billy was no more than eight, and Fain didn’t want to scare him with dire predictions that the woman was a fox they’d let into the henhouse. The lad finally ran out of questions, and declared firmly:

“I wanna meet her.”

Fain turned sober eyes on him. “You heard what I said earlier, Billy.”

The small jaw jutted forward, and Billy put his hands on his hips. “I heard. You don’t want us tellin’ her nothing. And I won’t. I’m one of the men now. You can count on me.” Then the little mouth broke in a grin. “But I still wanna meet her.”

“Fairly said. Now, run along, lad, and help the Shapherds with that magnificent stew I smell.” Billy skipped off, as the men around the table began studying the map.

A route, traced in red ink, moved crookedly through the mountains, beginning in a small southern town and heading more or less in the direction of the capital, but with many unnecessary detours. Fain tapped it with his finger.

“Word has come that the new horses for the royal stables will be traveling this route once the weather clears. In among the mounts for the officers, there is a specially trained warhorse, destined for the king. You lads are going to make sure these beautiful steeds never make it to the castle.” He grinned ferally, and saw matching smiles on the faces of the men around the table.

He laid out the plan, which was simple, but effectively utilized the terrain against the caravan. They laid out several alternate routes to use in returning to the keep, in case they needed to split up, and assigned Eric Tully to be the quartermaster for the group. They groaned when he announced that he expected each of them to carry an extra week’s worth of provisions.

“No groaning, lads,” Fain remonstrated. “The weather could turn, and you’ll be grateful for the extra rations.” He looked at each man in turn. “Gather your gear; you’ll be setting off tomorrow. Connelly says the weather won’t clear for a while, but you need to be in place for the ambush once it does. And be careful while you’re out there. This should be an easy one, but we never know, and I want each of you to come back intact.”

The men nodded respectfully, and dispersed to go make their preparations. Fain sighed and pointed his feet back to his own chamber. He had his own assignment to take care of.

After a few hours of playing nursemaid, Fain was ready to hand the lass back over to the wolves, if it would just get him some peace. She really was weak from the fever and her long days out-of-doors, but instead of making her tired and compliant, it just made the little spitfire fretful. She’d turned her nose up at the broth and biscuits the Shapherd brothers had sent up for her, and wouldn’t drink the bitter concoctions Connelly had left until he threatened to sit on her and pour them down her throat. She complained of being dirty, and smelly, and excessively warm, until a mild fever returned, and then she huddled in the blankets and complained of the chill. She was bored, she was tired, and she was “unaccustomed to having great oafs glaring at her just because she expressed her opinion.”

“If your opinion is always so spiteful, it’s a wonder people don’t do more than glare at you,” Fain said through gritted teeth. He had just about had enough.

“Forgive me.” Her voice was icy. “I have a hard time being gracious to someone who does nothing but insult me. Should I be grateful for your vile comments on my character?”

“You should really be grateful that I haven’t throttled you yet!”

“How dare you threaten me? ! “

Fain’s temper finally snapped. “How dare I? This is my keep! I took you in, had your injuries tended, and have been playing nursemaid while you’ve abused me at every turn! It’s a wonder I haven’t tossed you back out in the snow!” He was practically roaring with rage, but his fellow combatant had gone strangely silent. “What?” he snarled. “No biting comment about my temper?” She still didn’t speak, and he threw himself into the hard, wooden chair, letting out a grumble of frustration and anger. He yanked a book free from his shelf and opened it, hardly seeing the words before his eyes, but determined to ignore the wench in his bed.

After a few moments she spoke, her voice sounding small. “What are you reading?”

He almost didn’t answer her, but she’d asked graciously enough, so he sighed and said, “It’s an old collection of fairy stories.” He expected her to scoff at him, but her eyes brightened a bit.

“I love fairy stories. I had a large illustrated collection when I was younger, but one of my governesses took it from me when she caught me reading my favorite tales over and over, rather than my lesson books. I’m afraid the history of the outer provinces wasn’t a topic I was terribly interested in when I was eight.” She sighed pensively, and stopped, but after the past hours Fain had no trouble guessing what had happened.

“How did you get back at her?”

The lass blushed, but didn’t try to deny that he was right. “I waited until my father came to visit one of my lessons, and then I asked her if we could discuss human anatomy again, since I couldn’t remember all the male parts. She gaped at me and tried to protest to my father that she’d never taught me such a thing, but she got so flustered that she turned red and ran out of the room.”

Fain stifled a laugh. It was a wicked thing to do, but a clever revenge for an eight year old. “What happened?”

“Father spanked me for it. He knew I was lying. Then he asked me why I’d tried something so horrible, and I told him. He found my governess a position elsewhere until I was older and could appreciate her. But he wouldn’t let me have my book back; he said it was my punishment for ‘abusing my station.’” When the lass imitated her father, she put on a deep voice and pulled her brows together threateningly. It was altogether charming, and Fain quickly asked another question to make her stop.

“Did she ever come back as your governess?”

“Indeed, the year I was sixteen. By then my lessons fascinated me, and she was one of my favorite teachers.” She toyed with the blankets a moment, then went on. “I frequently got punished for taking my temper out on others.”