Once Upon a Romance 02 - As The Last Petal Falls (24 page)

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve come to drag you over to the hearth where you belong.” He started to protest, but Vivi held up her hand. “Did we not have a deal? I shall behave, and you will comport yourself like a gentleman?”

“I’m fairly sure I promised to be a friend. I think being a gentleman might be beyond me.” He groaned, but allowed Vivienne to drag him back over to the fire.

They settled into an uneasy camaraderie. Once again they discussed the books they’d read, only now they spoke of histories, and philosophy, not just fairy tales. Fain’s education was telling, but every time Vivienne thought to ask where he’d studied or who his tutor had been she bit her tongue and held silent. He teased her about her brazen ways and taught her some of the simple games the men of the keep played in the winter, and if he occasionally held whispered conversations with the men, he at least didn’t glare at her suspiciously to make sure she stayed out of ear shot.

Their friendship grew, but that brought its own difficulties. Vivi was aware of how her heart beat faster every time Fain came in the room. She caught herself watching him from the corners of her eyes, eager to see his face, but nervous that he would catch her gazing on him. Half the time she felt giddy with the new feelings, and half the time she was morose, because despite the fluttery, infatuated madness that possessed
her
, Fain was unmoved. He treated her like a friend, no,
worse
—like a sister. He was kind to her, and seemed to enjoy her company, but he gave no indication that she inspired any sort of desire in him.

She was dwelling on this when Billy asked her to play Cat’s Cradle. She agreed, but had a hard time manipulating the strings. To make matters worse, the yarn kept catching on her arm splint. Vivi blew out a great sigh of frustration.

“I’m sorry, Billy, maybe I need to watch someone else do it, first.”

“I can show you.” Fain had been watching her hopelessly tangle the string, again and again. “Give it to me.”

He and Billy passed the string back and forth, making new webs between their hands. Vivi watched intently, forcing herself to focus on the movements, and not Fain’s proximity. When they were done, Billy quickly made the opening figure and held it out to her.

“You try.”

She managed the first one, but when Billy slipped the string from her fingers and held it back out again she was lost. She looked up at Fain in mute plea.

“Here.” He laughed. “I’ll help.” He closed his hand over hers. Vivi yanked her eyes back down to the string, but she couldn’t have said what she was doing. She was acutely conscious of the way his fingertips glided along each of her fingers, positioning them to catch the string properly. It was a surprisingly intimate touch, and it startled her. Her eyes flew to his face.

His own eyes, usually so carefully friendly, were full of longing. Vivienne knew his expression, because she wore it so often herself; tense with the desire to bridge the gap between them, but unable to do so. Her heart thudded wildly, and for a moment she forgot the string, forgot Billy, forgot the hall they were standing in.

“Fain…” It was just a whisper, but it sounded like a clarion in her ears. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again the facade was back in place. He smiled at her cheerfully, and backed aways a small step, tossing the tangled string back to Billy.

“Truthfully, I’m better at jacks. Perhaps we should try that.”

Billy gave a little skipping hop and ran to get his jacks set. Fain announced a jacks tournament, and several men crowded round, eager to play the game. Vivi and Fain were jostled apart, but as she took her place in the ring of players she was oddly happy. He could pretend all he wanted that there was nothing but friendship between them.

She was going to break through that wall.

Vivienne had waited impatiently for weeks, and now she watched in apprehension as Connelly inspected her arm. He had finally pronounced that it might be healed enough to take the bracings off, and Vivi was longing for him to get on with it. She’d never itched so badly before in her life. The first thing she was going to do was immerse her entire arm in hot water and scrub it. With sand.

Connelly finally finished wiggling her fingers and moved on to cutting the lacings on the brace.

“Plannin’ on scalin’ the mountain an’ runnin’ home, now that yer arm is sound?” He teased her.

“I would have to be doubly a fool to try to go back through the mountains at the height of winter.”

“Aye, lassie. Claim
that
as yer reason. Surely ’tis not a thing ta do with a certain lad we both ken.”

“Of course not.”

The wrapping fell away, and Vivienne sighed in relief and started to scratch.

He slapped her hand away.

“None o’ that, now.” He frowned at her forcefully. “Wash it first. Ye dinna want ta be scratchin’ that dirt deep into yer skin. Tisn’t good for ye.”

Vivi scowled ferociously before letting her face fall into a smile. “I can leave the wrappings off, then?”

“Aye, lass. Yer arm will be a bit weak at first, but that will pass if ye use it well. Now run off to wash, I know ye want ta.”

Vivienne bestowed a quick kiss on his cheek and then dashed off, waving at Marlplot to follow her.

It was sunny, so the laundry detail was hard at work, and they hailed her as she came careening into the wash room. Vivienne ignored them all and ran straight to the soaking tub and plunged her arm in, grabbing a bar of soap and a bristled brush and attacking the itchy skin. The men laughed, and Sean Kelly began heating one of the smaller kettles. When she finally lifted her arm from the dirty tub, he brought it over.

“Let me rise that for you, Mistress.”

“Bless you, Sean.” He poured the water slowly, letting her rub away the final traces of soap. When the kettle was empty, Benjamin handed her a small towel.

“Gentlemen, I am forever in your debt.”

“Think nothing of it, Belle,” said Benjamin. “We’re just grateful you’ll have two good arms to do the laundry from now on.”

She laughed and tossed the wet towel in his face. “Believe it or not, Ben, so am I.”

“You are the most stubborn, pig-headed, unreasonable man I’ve ever met!”

“Why? Because I won’t do exactly what you’re telling me to do?”

“Yes!” Fain smiled at Belle, and she sighed and slumped back against the wall. They were both sitting on a bench observing the men gathered in the great hall, and Belle was taking the chance to critique his leadership style. “Fine. I’m stubborn and pig-headed, too. But I’m telling you, Fain, you need to share yourself. Be more available.”

“I’m not their nurse, Belle, I’m their leader. They need to respect me.”

“And they
do
respect you; anyone can see that. But they live out here, far from their friends and family, and they need more than respect. They need to feel companionship and common ground.”

“We have common ground.” Little did she know just how much welded them all together.

“My father always says that, in order to lead men, you must be prepared to be their teacher, their confessor, and their father.”

“And what does your father know about it?” he asked, narrowing in on the comment.

She waved him away. “That’s not the point. You need to be
their
father.”

“Some of these men are twice my age.”

She huffed in frustration. “You are being purposefully obtuse.”

He grinned at her and watched the irritation bleed away from her face, replaced by the sparkling gaiety that was never far below the surface.

“My grandmother always said that a man’s sense was contrary to his size. That as one got greater, the other got smaller.” As she teased him, her eyes shone with a roguish merriment. Fain bit his lip on a smile. He enjoyed her wit. In fact, he enjoyed most things about her. The winter days had never passed so swiftly, now that he had her to spend them with.

And that was a problem.

Baines hadn’t returned yet. No doubt he’d been detained by the number and severity of the winter storms, but every day he was gone was another that Fain spent in Belle’s company. It was easy to forget to keep his distance when she lounged by the fire, teasing him, laughing with him, or smiling at him with those great, glowing, violet eyes. The very eyes that were twinkling up at him, even now.

A man could drown in eyes like that.

“Um, Fain?”

It took a moment for the small voice to register.

“What is it, Billy?” he asked absently, still gazing down into Belle’s face.

“Would you play Jackstraws with me?”

Fain tore his eyes away from Belle to look down at the pitiful little lad. The poor fellow had little to do in the winter months, and no agemates to spend his free time with. Still…

“Billy, I would gladly play a game with you, but Jackstraws is one I have never mastered. These sausages,” he wiggled his large, strong fingers at the boy, “are simply not clever enough.” Billy’s face fell, and Belle spoke up.

“I can play with you, Billy. My fingers are quite clever.” She smiled back up at Fain. “Just like the rest of me.” Standing, she brushed off her skirts and followed Billy back to his spot in front of the hearth.

Fain drifted along in their wake, settling down in a chair to watch the game. Several of the men took an interest in the match.

“You’ll not last long against our Billy, Mistress Bell e.” Ben said.

Eric Tully agreed. “Aye, the lad is devilishly quick with his fingers.”

“Ah, but Mistress Belle has the long, delicate fingers of a lady. She’ll be a champion, I wager,” chimed in Marcus Shapherd.

“That’s a wager I’ll take,” Ben replied, looking smug.

With little or no money in the keep and no goods beyond necessities, the men were in the habit of wagering humiliations. A fortnight ago, the whole keep had been mightily entertained by the sight of the Shapherd brothers, who had unwisely bet against Marlplot in a wood-splitting contest, eating nothing but what they could catapult into each other’s mouths with their spoons. Fain knew from experience that the longer the snows penned them indoors, the more outrageous the forfeitures would become. As more men called out their stakes on Billy or Belle, Fain began to wonder just how elaborate this one would get.

Both players were very clever at taking one of the thin straws without disturbing the others, and the group around the fireplace leaned in, intent on the game. They called out suggestions for easy moves or clever moves, and all held their breath when one of the contenders carefully slid a straw free. Finally, Belle jostled a straw, eliciting groans from the men who had bet on her. Those who had bet on Billy were delighted and immediately began plotting their forfeit. After a few moments’ consultation, Ben stood up and waved his hands for quiet.

“It has been determined that the forfeiture—” He was interrupted by loud groans, but waved them to silence once more. “Shall be to entertain us all with a performance two nights hence. And since it was
her
fault—” This time the interruption was caused by loud, boisterous cheers as everyone divined Ben’s intentions. “Mistress Belle shall organize it.”

“But I didn’t bet!” she objected loudly.