Time Travel Romances Boxed Set (120 page)

“
I do!” Niall roared, his
eyes flashing. “I care about responsibilities.
I care about good
sense!
”

“
I care about
love!”

“
Feminine whimsy,” Niall
said with a dismissive sweep of his hand. “No marriage of value was
made on the apparent merit of love.”

“
Apparent merit? Love might
be whimsy to you, but it’s important to me!” Viviane poked a finger
into his chest. “And that
counts
!”

“
Love is a lie, Viviane, a
lie concocted by men of dubious character to persuade women to part
their thighs and no more.” Niall’s brow was dark, his manner
intent. “Love is no foundation for a good match and never will it
be.”

“
Don’t talk to me about
arranged marriages!” Viviane retorted. “Besides, you seem to have
found your way between my thighs well enough.”

“
Viviane!” Niall’s
expression turned appealing and Viviane’s resistance melted. “There
is a critical difference, though, for I would stand by my deeds. I
would treat you with honor, I would not leave you to bear the
burden of what we have done.”

Viviane folded her arms across her chest,
holding his gaze. “Do you love me?” She held her breath, but didn’t
have to bother for long.

Niall immediately shook his head. “I do not
believe in love.”

“
Then we have nothing
further to say,” Viviane said, disliking the little catch in her
voice. She might have turned away, but Niall snared her
elbow.

“
I say we do,” he
insisted.

Viviane froze and waited. She couldn’t look
away from him, his manner was so compelling, his attention so
completely fixed upon her. Could he really not love her? It was
impossible to believe.

Niall considered her for such a long moment
that Viviane felt like a mouse cornered by a clever cat. Then he
smiled, as though that cat had just spied dinner.

He braced his hands on the wall over her
shoulders and held her gaze, exuding male confidence. “I shall make
you a wager, my Viviane,” he rumbled.

“
What kind of wager?”
Viviane hated how breathless she sounded. It was all his fault for
using her name that way, but even knowing that didn’t help her
catch her breath.

Niall’s smile broadened as though he knew
exactly his effect upon her. His gaze danced over her, the hue of
his eyes a vivid green. “I shall persuade you to put your hand in
mine,” he vowed so seriously that she shivered.

“
You’ll only persuade me
with love,” she charged breathlessly.

“
Nay.” Niall bent and
kissed her earlobe so slowly and sensuously that Viviane trembled.
“I shall persuade you with good sense.”

That was so ludicrous that Viviane might
have laughed, if Niall hadn’t been nuzzling her below her ear in
such a distracting way. His tongue traced a beguiling path down her
throat and Viviane’s toes curled when he nibbled leisurely on her
shoulder.

She was melting away, her bones were
dissolving, her knees were weak.

“
A man of repute will keep
his word, feed his family and defend his own hearth,” Niall
breathed. “Be warned, my Viviane, I shall persuade you that I am
such a man of merit. I shall prove the truth of it to
you.”

Viviane parted her lips to argue that she
was already persuaded of that, except for one pesky detail, but
Niall kissed her lingeringly instead. In fact, he kissed her so
thoroughly that she almost agreed right then and there to marry
him, regardless of his ideas.

But she did know better. Love had to be on
the agenda. It mattered to her, which meant it should matter to
him.

And she had to be sure
first
because
marriage, in Viviane’s book, was forever.

Niall straightened and pushed one hand
through the thickness of her hair, his glowing gaze making her
mouth go dry. She wondered if he was going to seduce her again and
felt a tingle of anticipation. Niall smiled down at her as though
he read her thoughts, and his heavy fingers massaged her nape.

He bent his head towards hers and Viviane
knew that if he kissed her again, she’d melt like butter in the
sun.

So she poked a finger into his chest and
took a step sideways. “And I’ll make you a wager,” she said
pertly.

Niall arched a fair brow.

“
I’ll reconsider your
proposal after you do something for me.”

“
Aye? Another task?” He
smiled ever so slightly, his expression almost teasing. “And what
would that be?”

Viviane ducked beneath his arm and darted
across the room, picking up her book manuscript and offering it to
Niall with a flourish before she could change her mind. “I want you
to read this. It’s a book, one that I’ve written, and I want to
know what you think of it.”

Viviane held her breath as Niall glanced at
the book manuscript, skepticism clear in every line of his
being.

“
Why?”

Because once he had read this, he would know
exactly how Viviane felt about love. And he’d have a good idea how
she felt about him, too, she realized, because Niall was clever
enough to recognize himself in her work.

Perfect!

But she’d better not tell him that exactly.
Barb would say it sounded too ‘mushy’ and Viviane really didn’t
want Niall to start playing with the taps again.

Much less stop looking at her the way he was
looking right now.

“
Well, because. Um, it’s
important to me and I’d like to know what you think of it. No one
else has read it and I’d like you to be the first.” Viviane offered
it with a smile, then caught her lip in her teeth. “You can read,
can’t you?”

“
Of course, I am lettered!”
Niall crossed the room, his eyes lighting with curiosity as he
lifted the volume and fanned through it.

Viviane felt a pang of worry now that her
work was out of her hands. “So, you see, it would be a really good
way for you to get to understand me, to know what I’m thinking,
what I want, what I expect from love and marriage and
everything.”

Her words faltered when it became apparent
that Niall wasn’t listening.

Because he was reading.

Her book.

A frown furrowed Niall’s brow as he turned
the first page. “This is not the tale of Gawain as I recall
it.”

“
No, I changed it.” Viviane
knotted her hands together nervously. “It’s my story of Gawain.
That’s what people do here, they start with a story and make it
their own, embellishing it and blending it, making it into
something different. They don’t just copy as we had to. People
expect each book to be different.”

Niall pinned her to the spot with a glance.
“And you would trust me with the first reading of your labor?” he
demanded with that intensity that stole her breath away. “Viviane!”
he whispered and took a step closer, his eyes gleaming.

Oh, it didn’t help that he knew she was
trusting him with something important!

Or that he knew it.

She shook a finger at him and backed away.
“Just read it, please! And tell me what you think.”

Niall bowed. “Your wish is my command,” he
murmured in a way that made her want to take back the book and do
something entirely different. But Niall perched on the edge of the
bed, his gaze apparently snared by what she had written, and
read.

“
I guess I’ll go to work,”
Viviane said pointedly.

Niall nodded and made a murmur of assent,
turning another page and laying it aside. He pursed his lips and
leaned back in to the bed, bracing one foot against the mattress,
clearly unaware of how magnificently masculine he looked.

Viviane took one lingering glance, knew she
should be glad he was interested in her work, and trudged down the
stairs.

She hoped he liked it.

She hoped even more that it convinced him of
the merit of love.

*

Niall had a difficult time putting his
lady’s book aside, though indeed, he knew there were other matters
he must resolve. Aye, he had to think, as well as make a plan to
not only prove Viviane’s innocence but win her agreement to return
to Cantlecroft and set all to rights.

Then he had to figure out how to manage the
deed. If all that did not persuade her that he would be a worthy
spouse, then Niall could not imagine what would.

Indeed, he trusted in his own ultimate
success.

Though, still, Niall wondered at the power
of Viviane’s pendant. How did it work? Would it work again? Were
there other objects here possessing the same power? He did not know
and could not fathom a guess.

And how had Viviane come by such a token in
the first place? She said ’twas a gift from her father - had he
been of this time?

Niall shook his head, unable to solve such
problems so early in the day. With reluctance, he put her book
aside, knowing that he had much to do this day before he read at
leisure.

After all, he must show his lady that he was
responsible. That was the greater obligation before him.

Niall scrubbed himself in the washing room,
a whistle on his lips, taking great satisfaction in how the water
ceased its flow completely as he turned the spigot. The looking
glass over the sink was one of incomparable quality, and Niall
considered the new growth gracing his chin.

He should look his best if he meant to
persuade Viviane of his case. A good man should be fastidiously
groomed, ’twas what his own mother had oft declared. Indeed, she
had always spared a kiss for her own spouse and Niall’s father when
that man arrived at the board with a clean-shaven face.

Niall fetched his dagger to scrape the
whiskers from his chin and began to whistle as he worked. Aye, he
would prove his eligibility to Viviane, convince her of the good
sense of wedding him, persuade her that there were pleasures
aplenty to be had, and ensure that her innocence was proven to the
archbishop. And he would read her book, as well, thereby fulfilling
the lady’s own demand.

Viviane would not be able to resist such
persuasiveness.

’
Twas then Niall spied the
tiny brush hung above the sink. He fingered its bristles and
examined its small size. A useful tool, of that there could be no
doubt, and one particularly suited to cleaning small nooks and
crannies.

Which reminded him of one particular task
which could not be avoided. His gaze drifted across the chamber to
the staircase, at the bottom of which reposed the bag Derek had
returned to him. It contained the jumble of his discarded mail, a
considerable investment that must be protected.

Niall retrieved it, then squatted beside it,
pulling the sodden mess of his tabard free. He examined the garment
for tears, then hung it in the washroom to drip. His cloak was
similarly spread to dry, his chausses and aketon wrung out to the
best of his ability before they also were left to drip.

He hunkered down beside the array of
remaining metal, scanning the links and disliking the damage
already wrought by that salted water. The greaves were well enough
- a buff from Viviane’s incomparable “towel” put them back to
rights. Yet the mail was in sorry shape. Without a squire, there
was none to tend it but Niall himself, and were it not tended, his
considerable investment would be worth less than naught.

And he did desire to look his best. Perhaps
he should have proposed in all his finery, instead of nude before
her.

Perhaps that was part of her quibble with
matters. Women, Niall knew, were oft fond of a little ceremony. And
this red chemise looked increasingly disreputable. He thought of
the coin that was now his own and considered that he should acquire
new garb. Aye, a man bent on courting would do well to ensure his
lady’s approval.

But where and how, and what to buy?

Niall shook his head, unprepared for the
challenge of a day at the mercy of shopkeepers. Nay, here was a
task to keep him occupied while he awaited Viviane’s return, a
sensible labor and one that would leave him more ready to court
affection when ’twas done.

So, Niall fetched what he did not realize
was Viviane’s toothbrush and set to work on his mail.

It hurt naught that such a tedious labor
gave him ample opportunity to relive the delightful flash of a
certain lady’s lovely hazel eyes, or the little sound she made
before the pleasure rushed through her, or the wondrous curve of
her lips when she smiled for him alone.

Or to plan precisely how he would win those
responses from her once more. Niall whistled tunelessly at the
prospect of being persuasive.

Aye, there were worse fates than to take a
woman to wife who was beauteous, alluring and charming, if
occasionally unpredictable. Niall was newly glad that he had won
sentry duty on that fateful day and had the good fortune to make
the lady’s acquaintance.

Viviane would have said ’twas because of her
birth under a blue moon, the very idea making Niall grin. Aye, he
could grow accustomed to such harmless whimsy, especially when
espoused by such a charming woman as his Viviane.

Niall’s belly growled as he set to work, its
volume growing with every passing moment. He began to wonder
whether Viviane had skill in the kitchen, as well.

That would be uncommon fortune indeed.

*

Barb was plugging in the kettle when Viviane
entered the shop.

“
Let me guess - he came
back?” she asked dryly.

Viviane laughed. She dropped into her chair
at the table and propped her chin on her hands. “Oh, yes!”

Barb shook her head as she put teabags into
the pot. “Judging by the sound effects, you didn’t get a lot of
sleep last night,” she mused, much to Viviane’s confusion. Her
boss’s quick glance though made everything clear.