Once Upon a Romance 02 - As The Last Petal Falls (12 page)

It had worked, too. Fain felt comfortable in his skin again, and free of desire for the first time in days. He promised himself that while the weather held he would go out with the wolves as often as he could, and when the snows returned he would avoid that little minx like a blighted pox. When Baines came back with proof that the lass was
not
who she claimed, he would confront her. Until then, she could be kept busy and out of his way during the days, and at night he would stay safely ensconced in his own chamber.

Closing his heavy wooden door he sighed, partly with relief and partly with regret. He’d made it to his room without seeing the lass, and while he knew that was undoubtedly the wisest, part of him wished he could have at least caught a glimpse of her. Sternly he shook himself. This was no time to fall prey to moonstruck madness. The less he saw of Isabelle Wellesley the better.

“Fain?”

He closed his eyes. He was imagining things. She could not possibly be—

“I fell asleep, what time is it?”

He cracked his eyes. There, softly illuminated by the dim fire, was his little spy, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her dirty, tangled hair was tied back with a simple leather thong, and she still wore his old linen shirt and the leather breeches he’d helped her with this morning. She could not possibly have looked any less bent on seduction, but still, he wanted her so much he ached. He turned his eyes away from her, and kept removing his gear from the hunt.

“It is time,” he said tightly, answering her question, “that you had a room of your own.”

“Oh. Ah. “ He looked back at her. It was hard to tell in the firelight, but he thought she was blushing. “ Yes. Indeed. I forgot. I mean, it was only afternoon when I came up here, and I was just so tired. I didn’t mean to sleep so long. I’ll go.” She struggled out of the bed and made it two steps before her knees buckled. “Oh!”

Fain caught her. “You’re warm. You overdid it today, I think.”

“Nonsense. All I did was make soap.”

“Still,” he turned her around gently, “back in bed with you.”

“I won’t.” She was stubborn. “You clearly wish to have your own bed back, and I have no desire to be where I am unwanted. I shall find Master Connelly and ask him to help me find new chambers.” She tried to take another step towards the door, but stumbled. Quick as a flash Fain scoop her up in his arms and headed back to the bed. “Put me down, I am not staying here!”

“I don’t think you have much of a choice, lass, but I’ll make you a deal.” He very gently set her back against the pillows. “If you can make it to the door on your own, I’ll help you find Connelly.”

She tossed her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. I just moved too quickly, before. Of course I can make it to the door.”

“Prove it.”

She glared daggers at him, but he just smiled.

“Why are you so stubborn? You
want
to sleep in your bed.” Carefully she swung her feet onto the floor.

“Why are
you
so stubborn? I believe you made it clear earlier that
you
want to sleep in my bed, as well.” When she gave him a black look he smirked at her.

“That was before you rejected me, told me I was a prisoner, and forced me to make soap. I don’t like you at all, anymore.” She cautiously pushed her way to her feet, and then paused a moment, balancing.

“Of course you don’t; that’s why you curled up like a wee kitten in my bed at the first opportunity.”

“I already told you, I didn’t have anywhere else to go. And I’m not a kitten.” She took a step and reached for the back of the chair to support herself. “If anything, I’m a leopard.”

“ I’ve never seen a leopard so weak she couldn’t walk across the floor. And take your hand off that chair. That’s cheating.”

“You said I had to do it on my own. You didn’t say I had to brawn my way through it. Using one’s brains to formulate strategy is a valid way to accomplish something.” She stubbornly took another step holding on to the chair.

He laughed. “Fine, have it your way. You’re about to run out of chair, though. How do you plan to cross the last five feet?”

“My superior mind is working on a strategy.”

“Your superior mind is about to pass out. Give up, and let me put you back in bed.”

She glared at him. “I said I would do it, and I will.”

Fain said nothing, just crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. She wasn’t really in any danger, just weak and tired, and he could wait until she was ready to admit she couldn’t make it. For a moment they both just stood there, then she sighed.

“I guess there’s no help for it.”

Fain stepped forward, ready to put her back in bed. He told himself he wouldn’t be smug. Well, not too smug, anyway. She was so tired she was sinking to the floor on her knees. It wouldn’t do to give her too much of a teasing…

Then she started crawling.

For a moment he just watched in disbelief, then his tongue started working again. “What are you doing?”

“Getting to the door on my own.” It was hard to sound smug crawling on her one good hand and her knees, but, somehow, she managed it.

“I said you had to walk!”

“You said no such thing, Fain MacTíre.”

“You’re cheating!”

“And you,” she said breathlessly, reaching her hand out to touch the door, “are a sore loser.” She placed her palm flat against the wooden surface, and then let her whole body sink to the floor, obviously completely spent. “Now, I believe you are going to help me find Master Connelly.”

He growled low in his chest, but picked her up for the second time that evening. “I suppose I am, Belle. Though it would have been easier if you’d just let me put you back to bed.”

“Easier, perhaps, Master MacTíre, but infinitely less satisfying, I assure you.”

The trip down the stairs, cradled against Fain’s chest, was
much
nicer than her climb up them had been. She barely resisted before giving in to the urge to rest her cheek against his shoulder, and maybe she was imagining it, but she thought she felt him gather her in closer when she did.

“I could get used to this.”

“Don’t plan on it, Belle, I have other uses for my time.” He almost sounded offended. How rude.

“Don’t be so hasty. I have my own personal staff. ‘Bearer of the Most Distinguished Miss Wellesley’ has rather a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? And I could design you a uniform with reins attached, and braid your hair with purple ribbons.” She ran her fingers through a few strands of his hair.

“Purple ribbons?”

“To match my horse, of course,” she answered absently, distracted in her exhaustion. His hair was rough, and it caught against the chapped skin on her fingertips as she played with it.

“Stop that.”

His harsh words brought her back to herself, and her hand froze. Her rib cage was pressed to his chest, and she could feel his heart thudding in a quickened rhythm. He was angry, and despite her fatigue, she felt her temper rising in response.

“I’m not trying to seduce you, you colossal oaf. There’s no need for you to be so rude.”

“There’s no need for
you
to say anything at all. I’m keeping my end of our bargain; the least you could do is ride in silence.”

“Of all the—” Vivienne had had enough. “Put me down, MacTíre, put me down this instant.” She struggled, but he held her firmly.

“Stop behaving like a child. You can hardly walk.”

“And
you
can hardly open your mouth without being an ill-mannered
beast.
I will crawl to find Connelly before I let you carry me another step. Put
me DOWN!
”

“Gladly,” he snapped back, depositing her on her feet. His long legs had carried them to the door of the still room, which he threw open with one arm while bundling her in with the other. Connelly looked up from his work at a giant mortar and pestle, surprise evident on his face.

“If the lassie was ill, ye could’a summoned me, MacTíre.”

“I would have been happy to do so, Connelly, but Miss Wellesley insisted on coming to see you herself.” He looked pointedly at Vivienne.

“Indeed I did.” She smiled with poisonous sweetness at the glowering mountain man. “And I’m not ill, Connelly, I’m just tired. Master MacTíre
ever
so graciously offered me his assistance in finding you.” She hadn’t thought it possible, but at her sarcasm, his look grew even darker. “It seems I am in need of new sleeping quarters, and I thought you might be willing to help me find some.”

“Dinna want ta put up with MacTíre’s snoring any longer, eh, lassie?”

“On the contrary, Connelly,” Fain practically drawled, “it’s the lass disturbing me. I need some peace.”

Vivi bit her tongue on the vitriolic tirade she wished to unleash, and instead concentrated on seeming totally unconcerned with Fain’s jab. Connelly cocked his head in thought.

“There’s a fair number o’ rooms that might suit, MacTíre, but they’d all need a cleanin’ afore the lass could sleep there.”

“I’m not afraid of dirt, Connelly.”

“No, lassie, but the bed needs a few douses of boiling water, if ye dinna wish yer pretty skin covered in wee bitty bites.”

“I see.” She thought a moment. “Perhaps I could sleep here, then? There’s no bed, but I could use the pallet Fain’s been sleeping o—”

“Absolutely not,” the current occupant of the pallet broke in.

“Really! I understand you wanting your room back, but I can see no earthly reason for you to be possessive of the pallet. Can’t you be reasonable about
anything?
”

“It’s not the pallet, Miss Wellesley, you can have that. It’s the location. You can’t be alone in the still room.”

“Why ever not?”

Fain looked her straight in the eye, accusation all over his face.

“Because I know what Connelly keeps in that wooden cabinet, and I don’t want you to have access to it.”

Vivienne stared at him open mouthed. She’d known he thought she was a liar, and possibly a charlatan, but she hadn’t realized…

“You think I would hurt you? Would… would
poison
one of you?” When he just looked at her, grimly, she spoke again. “Why?”

Fain didn’t answer her, but Connelly did. “Some men grow up mistrutin’, lass, dinna take it so hard.”

Fain finally spoke, but it was to Connelly, not her. “I don’t recall asking you to share personal information about me.”

“I dinna recall makin’ ye the keeper o’ my mouth, laddie, so dinna think ta rule it.” Connelly’s voice was mild, but there was no doubt in Vivienne’s mind that he meant what he said. “I’ll not spill yer secrets, such as they are, but I’ll tell the lass any open truth I care ta, an’ that yer a mistrustin’ fool is hardly a secret.”

Vivienne expected Fain to explode, but he sighed instead. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Excuse me.” Vivienne was shocked to hear her own voice come out sounding so brittle. “Master Connelly, would you allow me to spend the evening in front of your fire? That is, assuming you are not afraid I’ll attack you in your sleep.”

“Aye.” The little man spoke to her but raised one eyebrow at MacTíre. “Ye can stay with me, lassie.”

“Good.” Vivienne felt the hurt welling up in her chest, but she wouldn’t cry. “Then if you will excuse me, I feel the need to rest.” She started to take Connelly’s arm, but Fain moved to stop her.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Belle, I’ll carry you. You can barely—”

“
Don’t touch me,
” she hissed, backing away from him. “I
can
walk and I shall. I have no need of your assistance, Master MacTíre.”

He jerked his hand away and drew his brows into a wrathful glower. “And if you fall?”

“Then I will crawl.”

Connelly held his arm out, and Vivienne took it, leaving MacTíre scowling after them.

Vivienne was having a horrible time. Connelly really did snore—a tremendous, rattling, wheezing sound that kept her constantly awake—and after a night of far too little sleep, she was woken bright and early by a loud pounding. The pounding, as it happened, was being caused by an enormous meaty fist, belonging to a veritable giant of a man, connecting vigorously with Connelly’s door. Vivienne felt her eyes grow wide at the sight of the young colossus who’d woken them, but Connelly merely scowled.