Time Travel Romances Boxed Set (100 page)

It seemed most unlikely.

“
There, there, Majella,” he
said gruffly. “’Tis not that I do not appreciate all you have
done.”

His sister sniffled and fired an accusing
glance his way. ’Twas progress of a kind.

“
And I shall miss you all,
of course.” Niall forced a smile. “’Tis only that I expect to
return with all haste - I did not wish for you to worry
overmuch.”

To his astonishment, this confession did
little to reassure his sister.

“
Oh, Niall! Of course I
will worry overmuch! In all honesty, you are such a
man
sometimes!” Majella poked him in the chest with evident
dissatisfaction.

Niall was not at all certain what else he
should be.

“
I will miss you, Uncle
Niall,” declared Matthew, the eldest child at ten
summers.

’
Twas a most timely
interruption and Niall turned to the child with pleasure. Matthew
fingered Niall’s new scabbard with awe. “Am I big enough yet to
learn to handle a blade? Will you teach me when you
return?”

“
And what of me?” crowed
Mark, a year and a half his junior. The boys had grown markedly
since Niall had last seen them, tow-headed troublemakers both. “I
can do anything Matthew can do!”

The children, boys and girls, immediately
broke into a chorus of “me, too!” that coaxed Niall to smile. He
ruffled Matthew’s hair, but before he could speak, Majella did.

“
Your uncle may never come
back!” she cried. “Say your farewells, children, and remember the
courageous knight that your own blood uncle proves himself to
be.”

Niall frowned. “Majella, there is no need to
upset the children with such whimsy.”

“
Whimsy!” Majella’s eyes
flashed and her tears disappeared. She gave his mail-covered
shoulder a smack that likely hurt her hand more than it wounded
Niall. “’Tis whimsy now, to show concern for the last of one’s own
family? ’Tis
whimsy
to endure hardship for a last glimpse of
a loved one? Wasteful of coin to show such sentiment?”

As always, her rapid change of manner
surprised her brother. He would never understand women and their
emotional flights, he was certain of it.

He was even more certain that he did not
want to.

“’
Twas good of you to come,
of that there can be no doubt,” Niall said as soothingly as he
could. “But the expectation of my demise is overstated.”

“
Uncle Niall can best any
witch!” Matthew insisted loyally. The children cheered assent,
though their endorsement did not dismiss the shadows from their
mother’s eyes.

Majella sobered and Niall now saw the fear
that fed her emotional response. “Truly you will return?” she
whispered, her fingers falling of their own accord to the curve of
her belly.

And there was the crux of the matter. She
was reliant upon him, Niall needed no reminder of that
obligation.

Just as he knew that asking after the father
of this one would win him naught but more tears. Joseph, Majella’s
second spouse, had been dead four years. The youngest child and
this one on the way could not be wrought of his seed. As for the
eldest, well, Niall did not want to count overly closely on his
fingers.

The last thing he needed was more tears.

And the last thing his sister needed was
more worries.

Niall looked Majella dead in the eye and
smiled for her. “Aye, Majella,” he said with soft determination.
“You may rely upon me, as always you have.” He squeezed her hand.
“Never doubt that I shall return.”

His sister managed to give him a tremulous
smile. “As always,” she echoed softly and touched her fingertips to
his cheek. “Oh Niall, why have you never found a woman to
appreciate you?”

She had the look about her of a woman about
to land a kiss upon him, which could only lead to more copious
tears, and Niall knew better than to encourage her.

He squatted down amongst the children to
deflect his sister’s intentions, noting how this own had grown, and
that one cut a tooth. He spoke to each, knowing all too well that
they too were reliant upon him.

Even though they might not understand the
truth of it yet.

“
What is that?”
three-year-old Elizabeth demanded, her chubby fingers reaching for
the moonstone pendant. She would want it for her own if she deemed
if pretty, his one.

Niall quickly snatched it away from her
grasp and covered it with his hand. “’Tis a token abandoned by the
witch and one that she used to make her disappearance.”

“
A charm!” Mark breathed,
his eyes wide.

“
Aye, and one of great
potency,” Niall slipped it inside his tabard that the children
might not be further tempted to touch it. Who knew what evil a mere
brush of the fingertips might spawn in these innocents?

“
Is that how you shall find
her again?” Matthew demanded.

“
Aye.” Niall nodded at the
boy’s quick wits. “’Tis my hope that ’twill take me directly to her
side, then back here with all haste.”

Matthew frowned. “But Uncle Niall, ’tis said
that witches are most cunning.”

“
That they are,” Niall
agreed. “And this one already has tricked me once, so I am doubly
wary.”

The children’s’ eyes rounded in awe, likely
as much at this confession as the fact that he had been in the
presence of a witch.

Majella had doubtless filled their ears with
too many outlandish tales. Niall frowned. They had need of a father
in their lives, a man whose good sense would counter Majella’s
whimsy.

He thought no further before Matthew tugged
on his sleeve. “In all the tales, a knight must match wits with the
foe he faces.”

“
Aye, ’tis true
enough.”

“
And in the tales, the
knight must choose his words carefully, lest his foe turn his own
words against him. ’Tis said that witches are doubly deceptive in
this.”

Niall smiled for the clever boy who was oft
too serious. “That is uncommon wisdom, Matthew. I shall keep your
good counsel in my thoughts.”

But his nephew was not yet reassured. “And
you must speak in a rhyme, Uncle Niall, when you use her charm. The
old tales say ’tis so.”

Niall did not think it fitting to observe
that the witch had departed without any such rhyme to her
benefit.

“’
Tis sage advice you
grant, and I shall heed it well.” He ruffled the boy’s hair and
hoped with all his heart they would fare well while he was gone.
“And you, young Matthew, would do well to listen less to tales and
tend more to your labor. Have you found an apprenticeship as
yet?”

Matthew’s face fell and he looked to his
mother.

Majella wrung her hands. “Niall, I have not
had the chance…”

Niall fixed his sister with a stern look.
“He has need of a trade, Majella, need of a way to earn a living
with his hands. You owe him no less than to find a suitable
apprenticeship, and ’tis time one be found for Mark, as well. You
must use good sense in this.”

“
But I am going to be a
knight like you, Uncle Niall!” Matthew declared.

“
Me, too!” Mark cried. “Me,
too.”

Majella smiled indulgently. “Their hearts
are set upon it, Niall.”

Niall met his sister’s gaze steadily, for he
knew well enough the expense of a knight’s training. So would his
sister, if she had ever deigned to heed his counsel. “Then you had
best wed a far wealthier man than I will ever be. I have neither
the coin nor the associations to win this even one of them.”

His sister looked away, her eyes clouding
with tears. Her hand strayed to her ripening belly and Niall
sighed. ’Twas neither the time nor the place for their continuing
argument.

On his return, he would resolve all of this
as well, though the thought alone made him feel as though he
carried the weight of the world itself. Indeed, none other would
ensure these children had trades, had means of seeing food in their
mouths long after Niall was gone.

Well, the sooner he departed on his quest,
the sooner he could return. Niall straightened with purpose, smiled
at the children, then clasped his sister’s hand.

“
Be well, Majella,” he
muttered, deliberately avoiding a downward glance as an unwelcome
thought crossed his mind.

How many months would his task consume?

Who would ensure Majella’s welfare, the safe
birth of her child, the meals in the mouths of these seven, without
him here? ’Twas his honor at stake and his duty to fetch the witch
Viviane back again, yet all the same, Niall dreaded what would
occur in his absence.

He would not consider whether his pledge to
return would have any power in whatever place his witch had
fled.

“
We shall be fine, Niall.”
Majella squeezed his hand, as though she divined his thoughts, and
landed a wet kiss on his cheek. She took a deep breath and forced a
smile, though the shadows lingered in her eyes. “Think only of your
welfare. Your victory will not be easily won.”

Niall nodded, for there was naught to be
said to that simple truth. He handed her the knotted handkerchief
and the bread and smiled, hoping she would not take offense. “The
children must be hungry, Majella,” he said gently, “and we both
know that they have greater need of sustenance than I.”

She chewed her lip, unshed tears shining
anew, and clutched her precious provisions.

“
Ride the steed back to
town, if he does not come with me, for ’twould be better if you
walked less.” Niall kissed her cheek before she could argue with
him. “I thank you for your thoughtfulness,” he added gruffly. “Now,
eat of his fine fare yourself. Your babe has need of
it.”

“
Oh, Niall.” Majella’s
tears streamed down her cheeks as her mouth worked. Her hair had
crept free of her braid and she looked suddenly very much like the
young sister whose pastries he had feigned to steal.

The children gathered around her skirts,
though, belying that impression of maidenly innocence.

“
Go to the archbishop,”
Niall urged with sudden inspiration. “You have come this far – go
and tell him that you are my responsibility. He will not let you go
without.”

“
Oh, Niall!”

Matthew clasped his mother’s hand, his eyes
solemn, and Niall guessed he was of an age to understand more than
the others.

Niall looked his eldest nephew in the eye.
“See it done, young Matthew. I place my trust in you in this
matter. Ensure the welfare of your mother and siblings in my
absence.”

Matthew’s chest puffed up and his eyes
brightened. “Aye, sir!”

Before Majella could fall upon him and weep
again, Niall gripped the moonstone with one hand. He grasped the
hilt of his blade with the other, knowing ’twas past time to
depart. He winked at Matthew with a confidence he was not quite
feeling, then closed his eyes, tipped his head back and wished
aloud.

“
By all that is good and
holy,

Grant me but one wish fully:

Place me so near witch Viviane

That I might grasp her right hand.”

It has often been said to use caution in
what one wishes for – in case that wish is granted. Niall,
unfortunately, was unfamiliar with the expression.

Although he did get his wish.

*

One of the great joys to Viviane in Avalon
was the Saturday market in downtown Ganges. It was endearingly
familiar - in concept if not in product - to stroll through the
stalls of local artists and farmers. The market could be
overwhelmingly busy on a sunny summer Saturday, but Viviane found a
bittersweet familiarity in its hustle and bustle, no less its
handmade treasures, one that reminded her all too much of what she
had left behind.

She talked every week to the man who made
his own cheese from the milk of his own sheep, she regularly
admired the flowers a woman had grown from seed, she watched the
skilled leatherworker, she was always awed by the array of
obviously magical and mysterious masks. Such was Viviane’s obvious
enthusiasm for the market that Barb indulged her request to have
Saturday mornings off.

And so, despite Viviane’s interest in the
bobbing white sailboats and the way they raced across the ocean,
and despite Monty’s considerable persistence, it was a full three
weeks after her arrival that he finally convinced her to join his
friends for a jaunt in their sailboat.

And only then because he chose a Sunday.

It was a perfect day, the sky as clear as
could be, the sunlight glinting off the water, the sail snapping in
the breeze. There were four of them aboard the sailboat - Monty and
Viviane, along with the older couple who commanded the obviously
magical craft.

If their host and hostess were inclined to
leave Monty and Viviane alone together more often than might have
easily occurred, Viviane failed to notice that, much less guess its
import.

Certainly, Monty was in fine spirits - he
looked to have laid hands on a new green chemise and odd footwear
for the occasion. These “Tevas” as he called them seemed no more
than black slabs secured to his feet with colorful straps, though
those straps magically meshed together at Monty’s dictate.

It seemed that fastenings of all sorts,
particularly for garb, were his magical domain. Viviane thought it
a rather humble specialty and considered for the first time that
Monty might not be a particularly skilled sorceror.

Once it became clear that sailing was new
for her, Viviane was treated to a tour of the gleaming ship.
Derek’s proud claim that he and Paula lived aboard the boat for the
entire summer amazed Viviane, as did the gaggle of mysterious shiny
implements secreted below. She did not dare insult her host by
asking him to explain his magic, though Viviane was suitably
impressed.