Claire Delacroix (10 page)

The two women grinned at each other. Derek and Niall exchanged telling glances.

Derek flung his hands skyward again. “See? See what I have to deal with? Every day more of the same. Crystals and rune stones and reams of import and tarot cards.” He snorted. “I’m going to change into something dry.” Derek cocked a finger at Niall. “You want to escape this conversation, you’re welcome to borrow something and do the same.”

Niall, though, was not entirely certain he wanted to be alone in a small space with this kissing man. He bowed and summoned his best manners. “I thank you for your hospitality…”

“Yeah, well, thanks for not drowning on my watch, wherever the hell you came from. Paula, if ever a man needed one of your concoctions, Sir Niall here would be my prime candidate.” He granted the little woman a stern look. “Maybe you could remember our deal by the time I come back.”

With that, Derek stomped down the stairs in obviously poor temper. An unrepentant Paula stuck out her tongue at his back and Monty laughed.

“What deal is this?” he asked.

“Oh, Derek would only sail up here if I promised to not get all woowoo on him,” Paula explained breezily, then rolled her eyes. “His term. Don’t worry about him. If he just learned to trust his inner voice, he’d be much more at peace in this life.” Paula dropped her voice confidentially. “It’s an Aries thing, you know. It’s not like he can help it.”

Niall blinked at this incomprehensible claim, his gaze rising of its own accord to meet Viviane’s. She looked as confused as he was by this reference and shrugged when their gazes caught. Niall almost smiled at the sudden sense of camaraderie between them, but managed to catch himself and scowl instead.

It still did not halt Viviane’s smile.

Monty tapped his toe. “But I don’t get it. So, like, what’s the whole story here? Have you got magical powers or something, Viviane? You holding out on us? How’s you make this guy just show up
poof
?”

“She is condemned as a witch and sentenced to die,” Niall felt it pertinent to explain.

Both Paula and Monty looked alarmed by this, but Viviane lifted her chin. “I’m not a witch.” She looked directly at Niall. “I told you that before,” she added, her voice soft with accusation, then her eyes filled with a hurt far more compelling than Majella’s tears. “I thought you believed me.”

Niall felt an unwelcome jab of what could have been guilt.

Aye, he wanted to believe Viviane; indeed, when she turned that tearful gaze upon him, Niall
did
believe her.

And that was the root of the problem.

Before meeting Viviane, Niall had believed himself to be a good judge of another’s heart. Now, he
knew
he was wrong about her, knew it without doubt, yet his heart insisted he should believe her still.

He hesitated too long, for Monty moved quickly to console Viviane, sliding one arm around her waist and shooting a triumphant glance at Niall. “Hey, babe, don’t you think this fourteenth-century thing is like getting a bit out of hand? Sentenced to
die
?” He grimaced and Viviane smiled wanly.

When she leaned her head against his shoulder, this Monty’s expression turned smug.

Niall felt his lips thin. So that was how ’twould be. Not that it mattered to Niall where the witch granted her favors. Nay! ’Twas a better thing to be so clearly reminded that her temptation of him truly meant naught.

He folded his arms across his chest and let his voice turn stern. “Aye, I was fool enough to believe your tales afore, and indulge your request. Now the price must be paid in full, and that at the archbishop’s command.”

Viviane’s head snapped up. “The archbishop lied to me!”

Niall could hardly argue with the simple truth of that.

Before he could decide whether to debate the mater or simply seize the witch and be done with it, Paula laid a hand on his arm. “Derek’s right, you’ve got to get changed. With this wind, you’ll have pneumonia in no time.”

“My garb is perfectly suitable.”

“It’s wet!”

“I shall don dry garb upon my return homeward.”

“You can’t wait that long!” Paula caught at Niall’s elbow when he did not move, leading him to the small ship’s hatchway. ‘You have to get into some dry clothes before you catch a chill, then I’ll make you a nice marguerita.”

“Nay, I will not be parted from the witch,” Niall argued. “I cannot let her from my sight!”

“Viviane isn’t going anywhere.” The small woman pushed him toward the stairs as Niall found himself unexpectedly confused by the sweet smile Viviane suddenly bestowed upon him. “I promise.”

Niall hesitated, caught between duty and comfort.

“Where would she go? We’re out at sea,” Paula chided. Her words were little reassurance, for Niall knew well enough that the pendant Viviane fingered could take her anywhere she so wished.

He pivoted to face the witch, not surprised to find her gaze locked upon him. And once again, Niall was tempted to trust her.

“You must grant me your pledge that you will be here when I return,” he demanded of her.

Viviane sobered and straightened, though she could not or did not quell the expression of feminine delight lingering in her eyes. Niall wondered what conclusion she had made now, then her words fell low and filled with conviction. “I do. I swear it to you.”

Niall’s heart thumped at the way Viviane’s luminous gaze clung to his, but her pledge, whatever ’twas worth, was likely all the guarantee he would win.

And, yet again, as much as he might have preferred otherwise, Niall believed her.

Curse women and their wiles!

Paula rapped an authoritarian finger on his arm. “Derek won’t let anyone drown on his watch and I won’t let anyone catch pneumonia. Come on, don’t fight me on this.” Paula grabbed Niall’s tabard and pulled him hard toward the stairs. “Derek must have something that will fit you.”

Niall spared the witch one last glance, and the moonstone pendant winked in the sunlight, as though to remind him of his own pledge. ’Twas true enough that Viviane affected his thinking, but Sir Niall of Malloy was not without a certain charm of his own.

He would win possession of that pendant and return to the archbishop’s court, or die in the attempt. ’Twas a quest he had committed to fulfill, after all.

And he would have one lingering kiss to call his own before all was said and done. ’Twas only reasonable, given how Viviane seemed determined to tempt him.

One kiss surely could hurt naught.

* * *

Chapter Five

Her knight had followed her!

Viviane could hardly believe her luck. Oh, her fortune had changed for the better when she met Sir Niall of Malloy, there was no doubt about that! She had always been lucky, but this man seemed to bring out the best that Dame Fortune had to offer.

Or maybe Dame Fortune - in concert with the blue moon watching over Viviane’s birth - had picked this knight out just for her. Oh yes, Viviane had made the right choice in having her Gawain look just like Niall - he was a perfect hero. Niall’s pursuit of her, his return of her beloved pendant, it was just like an old tale and proved the kind of man he was beyond any doubt.

Viviane hugged herself, impatient for him to make a reappearance from below. Niall was every bit as big and burly and gruff as she remembered - oh, he roared, but she could see that enormous heart of his just shining in his eyes.

It was pretty obvious that Niall was what Monty called a straight-and-narrow kind of guy, someone who was concerned with following the rules and upholding justice.

It was what made him such a wonderful knight.

But, of course, that meant that he was troubled that she had been found guilty as a witch. It was only natural. Anyone could see, though, that he didn’t quite believe it. After all, he had followed her, even with that cloud hanging over her name.

The only possible explanation was that he was in love with her. That was the only reason men overlooked things like that.

It wasn’t such a far flung thought. Viviane was sure that she was pretty much in love with Niall already. What woman wouldn’t be? If not all the way in love, she could certainly get there from here. And the way he looked at her - she shivered in delighted recollection - well, it made her tingle right to her toes.

As soon as Viviane explained the truth to Niall, as soon as he knew that the archbishop was wrong and that she wasn’t really a witch, well, it would be obvious to him as it was to her that they were meant for each other.

And clearly, since he was her knight, then she was his lady, which could only mean that he would defend her to his dying breath and all that good stuff. It was always that way in the tales and it was certainly that way in Viviane’s book.

Absolutely perfect.

When Niall’s head appeared at the top of the stairs, his golden hair glinting with the sunlight, Viviane’s breath caught in her throat. He stretched, not unlike a great cat and turned his face up to the sun, as though he savored the heat of it upon his skin. It was not Viviane’s imagination that he seemed to grow stronger beneath those caressing rays, bigger and more thoroughly golden.

Gawain, after all, was linked to the sun, Viviane remembered that. The legendary knight’s strength waxed until midday, then waned to midnight. He could only be defeated in the afternoon, and that on the shortest day of the year, the blackest night of winter.

And Niall of Malloy obviously belonged in the sunshine. Viviane had a sudden insight into his grumpiness in the archbishop’s dungeons. It must have nearly killed him to be trapped away in the darkness like that, and no wonder it affected his mood. Well, he wouldn’t want to go back there any more than she did!

Niall had to turn slightly sideways to ease his shoulders through the narrow opening, the red t-shirt he had evidently been loaned was stretched slightly to accommodate his breadth. His arms were tanned to a rich golden hue, he wore a thick golden bracelet upon his left wrist. Derek’s shorts outlined the muscles of Niall’s thighs and left his tanned legs bare.

Viviane swallowed, certain she had never seen a man so powerfully built.

Or so very alluring.

As though he heard her thoughts, Niall glanced up and their gazes locked once again. Viviane’s heart pounded and she was completely unaware that Monty left her side, despite his sour comment.

There was only Niall. They might have been alone in the world when he came closer, purpose in every step.

Viviane’s pulse began to flutter in her throat. She could remember the imprint of his lips against her own, the warm salt-tinged taste of him when she had kissed him in gratitude. He gripped the handrail with a broad strong hand, the same hand that had rested heavily on the back of Viviane’s waist and urged her closer.

If she hadn’t stepped away from him then, Viviane knew she would be kissing him still.

She had a funny certainty that the next kiss they shared - and there would be one! - wouldn’t be nearly so fleeting as the last.

Niall marked the distance between them with decisive steps and Viviane suddenly felt very very warm. She couldn’t have said a word to save her life, a fact that would have shocked anyone (besides the residents of Avalon) who had even a passing acquaintance with her.

He braced his arms on the rail beside Viviane, so close that his bare skin brushed against her own. She watched him squint as he absently surveyed the distant shoreline. Viviane could feel the heat of him so close beside her, and she wanted to touch him more than anything in all the world.

“You kept your pledge,” he murmured, pleasure and surprise mingled in his low tones.

“Yes,” she managed to say.

Niall shot a quick glance her way. “’Tis not a trait one might expect from a witch.”

Viviane saw the blond hair on his forearms stir in the wind from the sea and caught the scent of his skin. Her mouth was completely dry. “I suppose not.”

Niall met her gaze steadily, unexpected humor dancing in the emerald depths of his eyes. “I have never known you to be without words,” he teased, an equally unexpected smile curving his firm lips. “Has something gone awry?”

Viviane felt herself blush and knew she would never find another word again. She stared as that smile widened, ever so slowly, as tantalizing and warming as she had expected it to be.

No, it was definitely more tantalizing than she had expected. In fact, Viviane felt a bit dizzy.

“Why did you come?” she whispered, her voice a faint shadow of its usual strength.

“To fetch you,” he murmured, his eyes glinting. “Why else?”

Viviane’s knees melted. He
had
come just for her. She was right.

Perfect!

Niall lifted one hand to ease an errant curl back from her cheek. There was a heat in his eyes that made Viviane’s heart stop, yet she stood rooted to the spot, as though she had been turned to stone.

Her heart hammered as he leaned closer, she closed her eyes when the warmth of his fingertips slid down the length of her neck. Viviane lifted her face and parted her lips, wanting only Niall’s kiss. He leaned closer, her heart raced, his breath fanned her cheek, she trembled.

“Refills!” Paula chirped so close behind that both she and Niall jumped. Their hostess smiled cheerily and shoved the frosty glasses into their hands before she danced away.

Viviane blinked, licked her lips and let the frost of the glass disperse the fire smoldering within her. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that they weren’t alone.

Yet.

But she could fix that, as soon as they returned to Ganges. She would take Niall to her room, Viviane decided impulsively, she wouldn’t let him stay anywhere else. He had ridden into the unknown in pursuit of her and now they wouldn’t be separated again. Her breath caught as she wondered whether she would take him to her bed tonight, let alone what he would do about it if she did.

Viviane slanted a glance through her lashes at her knight and made a fairly good guess.

Niall meanwhile sniffed his drink suspiciously. “And what is this concoction?”