Claire Delacroix (35 page)

Matthew gasped.

“And the old hag told him that they were all the ones who had answered her riddle wrong.”

Matthew clutched Niall’s hand. “Oh! I would have ridden right over her, right then! She was a wicked woman!”

“Ah, but Gawain knew that she must be a magical being, so he dared not offend her. Gawain knew that when he saw the knights, for there were many there he recognized, valiant men who had ridden off on quests, never to return.”

“Like Uncle Niall,” Matthew piped up proudly. “But he returned.”

“That he did. And Gawain intended to return as well.”

“So, he agreed?”

“He did. And the old hag gave him the riddle:

‘Kings will crow and knights will boast,

Their victories hailed from coast to coast.

But none have named desire innermost:

What is it that a woman wants most?’
”

Niall could almost hear Matthew thinking.

“A rich husband,” the boy decided finally, probably thinking of his mother.

“Ah, that was the first thought of Gawain,” Viviane admitted. “But then he wondered if it was too obvious a response. He looked at those fallen knights and knew that all the obvious answers would have been made already. So, he did not say that, and he did not say a fine meal, and he did not say fine clothing and jewelry. He did not even say healthy children, though he considered that possibility long. The word ‘innermost’ made him think there was something more important that a woman might desire.”

“Did he guess it?”

“Well, he spent three days and three nights in that horrible forest, feeling the old hag watching him, listening to the rustle of the wind through the cloaks and the mail of the knights fallen all around him. And finally, as he watched the moon rise one night, he knew the answer.”

“What was it?”

“Oh, I am not certain I should tell you,” Viviane teased, and Niall grinned outright when his nephew cried foul.

“I told you that you had a gift with the telling of a tale, Viviane,” Niall charged and opened his eyes, deliberately avoiding a glance toward his lady. He would not argue with her before the boy, and she had been sorely vexed with him before.

“Uncle Niall!” Matthew hugged him soundly and Niall tousled the boy’s hair. “You must know the answer to the riddle, for you know everything.”

“Well, I do know this.” Niall met Viviane’s gaze just long enough to note her minute nod of agreement. “What a woman desires most of all is her own will. ’Tis something any man would do well to recall.”

’Twas then Niall realized, somewhat belatedly, that her own will was the one thing he had not given Viviane. She had wanted only to remain on Salt Spring, and he had stolen that choice away from her in his urge to do what was right. And what he had believed to be right had turned out to be dreadfully wrong.

Even beyond that, Niall knew he should have respected Viviane’s desire to stay away from Cantlecroft.

Because now she would die. They had come full circle from the first day they had met - not only would Viviane die, but Niall would join her.

That had not been his plan.

And just as before, Niall knew without doubt that he did not want Viviane to die. He could not imagine a world without her sunny smile, or her cheerful insistence that she was lucky; her determination to see matters resolved, or the power of her storytelling. Further, he did not want to awaken and not find her beside him, he did not to be without her whimsical convictions or her certainty that she could make all come aright, he did not want to sleep without her curled beside him.

He loved her. Against all rhyme and reason, against every conviction that matters tangible alone were real, Niall loved Viviane.

It took him a moment to come to terms with the truth of that, amazing as ’twas.

“Is that the truth of it?” Matthew demanded.

Viviane nodded and smiled for the boy, obviously unaware that Niall had just had an epiphany. He watched her shamelessly, savoring the way her lips curved to form the words, the way her eyes shone as she recounted the tale. “When Gawain gave that very answer, the old hag told him that he was right. She offered him a kiss as a reward -”

“Ewwww!” Matthew grimaced and squirmed with the horror of young boys everywhere for feminine kisses. “I should never kiss a woman, especially a wrinkled old hag!”

Viviane shook a finger at him. “Ah, but you see, Gawain believed it would be rude to refuse her such a small thing. What price is a small kiss? And he felt a bit sorry for her, trapped out in the wild and condemned to ask people this riddle. So he kissed her, and to his surprise, she instantly turned into a beautiful woman.”

“Oh!” Matthew’s eyes were round.

“And she offered to marry him, admitting that she had been cursed to take the form of this old hag until someone answered the riddle right. Well, Gawain thought he was terribly lucky, because she was very beautiful, so he agreed.”

“And they lived happily ever after?”

Viviane shook her head. “Not quite. For the lady confessed that there was one little catch. You see, she still had to be an ugly old hag half of the time. So, she asked Gawain to choose whether she should be a beauty in the day or the night.”

“He would not want his friends to think he had married an old hag,” Matthew said quickly.

“And he would not want the lady to think that he was wedding her only for his own nightly pleasure,” Niall contributed, doubting that Matthew would guess that element of the tale. He was rewarded with a glimpse of his lady’s smile.

“Exactly.” Viviane nodded. “It seemed to Gawain that this was a test of his character, but he didn’t know which to choose. But in the nick of time, he remembered the answer to the riddle.”

“The lady must choose!” Matthew crowed and bounced on the pallet.

“Yes! He told her to choose and that completely broke the spell that had been cast over her. So, the lady was beautiful all the day and all the night, and they were married and then they lived happily ever after.”

“Because Gawain let his lady have her own will.” Matthew nodded happily at this conclusion. “But Uncle Niall knew the answer.”

Matthew abruptly gave Niall a hug that brought tears to the knight’s eyes. “I am glad you returned,” Matthew whispered against his shoulder. “For now we are all together again.”

Aye, he had gone soft, ’twas true. Though as he held Viviane’s regard, Niall was not certain ’twas such a dire fate. Majella summoned Matthew and with one last squeeze of Niall’s hand, the boy scampered away, leaving Niall alone with Viviane.

Niall surveyed her silently for a moment, still marveling at his realization. The liveliness had left her features now that she was no longer telling a tale. Questions lurked in the depths of her eyes and Niall knew he was the knave responsible for their presence.

’Twas not the way he preferred she regard him. Niall frowned and averted his gaze, knowing he needed to repair his error. He had to give Viviane her will, he had to find a way to send her back to Salt Spring. He had to save his sister and her brood from the danger he had cast them into, however unwittingly.

Zounds, but the world was heavy on his shoulders!

“Matthew admires you,” Viviane said softly.

Niall snorted and sat up, rubbing his temples with his fingertips, feeling a very unworthy hero for his nephew. “He is young.” Then Niall winced at the unwelcome truth. “Though indeed, he will not have the chance to grow much older.”

She leaned dangerously close and place her hand upon his, her eyes filled with appeal. “Niall, we must talk...”

Nay, he must
think
. There had to be a way free of this trouble, a way to see Viviane’s desire fulfilled and Niall’s family saved.

“Nay, Viviane,” he interrupted her crisply. He scowled deliberately and made an excuse. “My head aches overmuch. I fear my companionship would be burdensome.” Before she could argue with him - for he knew she would - Niall pushed to his feet and strode across the tiny stone chamber.

The cursed moonstone held the key, Niall knew it well.

And once -
if
! - he retrieved it, Viviane would be gone. The very thought made his innards clench, even though her departure might well see the rest of them released.

Niall could only hope.

He gripped the bars on the window in the door, well aware of Viviane’s gaze locked upon him. He hated that he had been discourteous, and heartily disliked that he could not mend matters between them.

But that would only make matters worse when they did part, for part they must. Niall’s place was here, he knew it as well as he knew his own name. He had not needed Matthew’s reminder of the obligations of his blood. Niall could not simply follow his heart’s desire to another place and time, nor could he selfishly change the course of eight people’s lives in pursuit of his own happiness.

Which meant that he did not dare give Viviane any hint of his newly discovered feelings for her. ’Twould be better if Viviane despised him for his betrayal, better if she believed him a duty-bound wretch who had used her for his own ends.

Aye, Niall knew that his lady had a weakness for love and its charms. He would not condemn her to the unhappiness of yearning for what she could not have.

He would save that burden for himself, for truly, he would not have to endure it long.

Now, to fetch the witching stone.

* * *

Something was wrong.

Viviane didn’t know what it was. In fact, she couldn’t imagine what it was. It was true that she had questioned Niall’s feelings for her - for two reasons.

The first had been proven false - Majella was neither his lover or wife, or even pregnant with his child. Niall’s obligation was only that of a brother for his widowed sister’s children. Viviane liked that he took such responsibility for his family and she had already seen that they were children who would do him proud.

The second had proven to be a miscalculation on Niall’s part. Aye, just as Monty had charged, Niall had made a pledge to bring her back to Cantlecroft. He had kept his word, but clearly only because he had believed he could vouch for her innocence. Viviane had seen the truth in Niall’s shock at the revelation of the archbishop’s deception.

Now that Niall had finally awakened, after a day and a night of lying unconscious while Viviane kept an anxious watch, things should be right between them.

But they weren’t. He wouldn’t even talk to her.

She wondered whether he was worried about his sister, but he wasn’t hovering around her.

Niall was pacing.

And he was avoiding Viviane, as well as a man could in the confines of this cell. He studiously kept from making eye contact with her, he was always on the other side of the small chamber no matter how she tried to end up beside him.

Viviane thought that maybe Niall was insulted that she hadn’t given him a chance to explain for himself. She made a point of apologizing, hoping for a kiss, but Niall mumbled an excuse and turned away.

He busied himself with his nieces and nephews, or scowled out the small window to the corridor. His mood was clearly not good and though he wasn’t a talkative man at the best of times, now he positively brooded. Every time Viviane managed to corner him and try to strike up a conversation, Niall mumbled an excuse, ducked and escaped.

It was getting annoying, mostly because Viviane couldn’t explain his behavior.

It was only because Viviane was watching Niall like a hawk, trying to sneak up on him one more time, that she even noticed his mumbled conversation with their jailor. Niall had called for water and the little jailor had brought the cup to the door again. This time, Viviane noticed, he came alone, without one of those big sentries hovering behind him.

That sparked Viviane’s curiosity. Niall was certainly bigger than this little man and could have pushed past him easily. She supposed there were sentries close by, but then realized that Niall had probably given his word of honor or something that he wouldn’t try to escape.

That would be like Niall, she thought with mingled affection and exasperation. And if this man knew him at all, he’d know that as well as Viviane did.

Come to think of it, Viviane remembered that bald little man from the last time she was here. He glanced nervously over his shoulder while he handed Niall the cup of water. At first glance, the two didn’t appear to be speaking, but then Viviane saw the jailor’s lips move quickly. Either no sound came out or his voice was pitched so low that Viviane couldn’t hear it.

She had a funny feeling that something was being decided. She took a step closer and tried to look as though she wasn’t straining her ears to listen.

Niall nodded once, quickly, then shot a glance over his shoulder as though sensing that someone was watching the exchange. Viviane hastily dropped her gaze to her hands and hoped he hadn’t noticed her attention.

He was hatching a plan! Viviane knew it. Just as she knew he was going to do something noble and heroic, something that would save them all from death.

She decided right then and there that whatever Niall was going to do, she was going to do it with him. Sticking close by his side was the best way she could imagine to get that chance to talk to him, after all.

And they had to talk.

Niall turned back to the cell, the key grated in the lock, and Majella suddenly screamed. The little man’s feet scampered in the corridor outside as he fled back to his station.

“Yowsers!” Monty roared, leaping to his feet from his crouch beside the lady in question. “What is that all about?”

“My water has broken,” Majella declared, then lifted her skirts to show the growing puddle. “The babe is coming!” Her beautiful features contorted with pain and she teetered unsteadily on her feet.

Niall was across the cell in a flash, his expression concerned. “Majella, you cannot birth a child in this hovel!”

She gasped as she obviously had a contraction, then managed a wan smile for her brother after it passed. Her fingers gripped his arm tightly. “Niall, we have little choice. Whether you believe ’tis good sense or not, this babe is coming and ’tis coming soon.”