Claire Delacroix (13 page)

Viviane. Sorceress, temptress.

Witch.

Niall slid his toe across the mattress once again and caught his breath when he encountered soft smooth flesh. A part of him responded to the news with enthusiasm, though Niall knew he would be wise to be wary.

Surely, he reasoned, it could hurt naught to
look
?

Aye, a single glimpse was well worth whatever price he might have to pay. Niall eased from beneath the pillow and peeked at the woman beside him.

The breath left him of one accord when he saw that he was right. ’Twas indeed Viviane.

And the lady was a beauty. Viviane slept on her back, as trusting as a child, her auburn hair cast in disarray across the pillows. Her rosy lips were parted, her breathing deep, her cheek nestled in her own delicate palm. The linens were caught beneath her underarm closest Niall, cast over her opposite shoulder.

Even in sleep, she seemed to smile softly, as characteristically sunny in outlook as when she was awake. Only now, while she slumbered unaware, did Niall dare to admit to himself how very compelling he found this lady’s cheerful confidence.

Viviane believed the world to be a good place, she believed in her own good fortune, she was convinced that naught ill could truly befall her.

Though ill certainly had. Niall had certainly never been so unfortunate as to be sentenced to die, and he heartily hoped he never would be. He certainly would not have continued to believe in his own good fortune if he was.

Niall wondered whether that conviction alone was what held everything dire at bay for Viviane. And he was the one sworn to bring the ultimate bad fortune to her. His gut chilled, though Niall knew a pledge made was a pledge that must be kept.

He was a man of honor, after all, and his very reputation hung in the balance of making what had gone awry come right.

He was not, however, in a hurry this morn. That should have surprised him, but Niall was instead reassured to find himself less cold-hearted than he might have feared. Aye, he might have gotten soft, but he grew accustomed to it, and ’twas less dire a fate than he had once believed.

For ’twas no crime to think, just for a moment, that Viviane was still too lovely, too vivaciously alive, to die.

Niall eyed the bare shoulder nearest him and swallowed at the knowledge that lovely Viviane was nude. Indeed, her flawless skin lay bare whenever he could see it and certainly there was no chemise obstructing his exploring toe.

He thought of the long sleek legs that had tormented him the day before, the ripe breast that had pressed against his chest, the smooth buttock that had fallen beneath his hand. He recalled her delightful smile, the shine of her eyes, the mischievous dimple that dinted her cheek.

One look. One glimpse alone would satisfy him, he knew it well. Niall eased back the linens, his headache nigh forgotten.

He was not disappointed.

First he learned that Viviane had a mole on that bare right shoulder, then another came to light, nestled amidst the intriguing hollows below her throat. A third was secreted above her left breast, temptingly close to where the nipple must be. Niall had a playful urge to trace a line between they three with his fingertip and awaken her with a feather light kiss.

Indeed, ’twas impossible to believe ill of her when she looked so beguilingly innocent.

So
trusting
. Viviane was not only a beauteous woman, but one who had evidently welcomed him to her bed. They had slept nude, side by each, her faith in his good intent so great that she curled up with the contentedness of a cat.

’Twas enough to humble a man.

Especially when that man was pledged to bring the lady in question to her own execution.

Niall’s mouth went dry as he stared and, even knowing all he knew, he yearned for yet another of this lady’s kisses.

Surely ’twould not be unwelcome?

And who would know?

Viviane had not protested the day before. If an ache between his ears and slumber in a fine bed was the worst due extracted for a kiss, Niall could bear the burden that would be earned by another. He leaned closer, convinced that brushing his lips just once across her lips would pass undetected.

But the lady suddenly stirred.

Niall froze and watched as Viviane stretched in her sleep, arching her neck as gracefully as a swan. Her lashes fluttered but her eyes did not open. Niall did not dare to breathe, so certain was he that his conclusions would be proven wrong, that she had not actually invited him to be here, that she would awaken and cast him out of her bed.

Viviane made a wordless sound of contentment in the back of her throat, a breath that fanned across Niall’s skin and warmed him to his toes. Her hand fell upon his arm as though she knew she would find him there and he jumped. Her touch was so light that he might have missed it had he not been avidly watching her every move.

And Viviane smiled, her fingers sliding across his arm, back and forth again. She was not disappointed, nor even surprised! Niall thought his heart might burst, it clamored so loudly.

Viviane eased the linens lower with a sigh and turned towards Niall in a soft tumble of femininity, wriggling her shoulders as she nestled contentedly into a hollow beside him. Niall’s mouth went dry as the move revealed the sweet curve of her left breast fully to his gaze.

As well as the moonstone pendant she still wore.

Niall stared at the odd stone. He knew he should snatch at the pendant and make his wish, he knew he should seize this chance to see his quest complete, but that taut ruby-hued nipple so temptingly displayed distracted him.

’Twas so very, very beauteous.

Just like the lady herself. Niall swallowed, the weight of his pledge heavy on his shoulders.

He much preferred to think about Viviane’s bare flesh. Indeed, he was certain her breast must be soft and sweetly scented, perhaps even more so than her delightful kiss.

But he knew what he should do. His hand lifted but hesitated before him instead of moving decisively toward the pendant. Caught between desire and duty, Niall closed his eyes and reached, trusting Fate to guide his hand.

And Fate, as she has oft been known to do, betrayed him.

Niall’s fingertips brushed over the ripe curve of Viviane’s breast and she sighed contentment. She arched against the roughness of his hand like a demanding cat and Niall could not help but close his hand over her. Her jutting breast fit perfectly beneath his palm, tempting his fingers to curve around its softness. His gaze slid to her mouth in time to watch the tip of her tongue appear between her parted lips and his desire raged like an inferno.

Just one more kiss, Niall insisted to himself.

And
then
he would do his duty.

Niall’s thumb slid leisurely across that nipple, and it tightened to attention. He bent without a moment’s pause, cupping her breast in his hand and ducking his head to kiss that errant mole, then moving across the warmth of her flesh to take the pert nipple in his mouth.

Viviane’s eyes flew open when his breath slid across her skin. Niall halted as though caught at a crime. The sleepy scent of her inundated him and curled his toes, time stood still while the lady leisurely opened her eyes.

This was it. Niall feared anew that Viviane would chastise him for his familiarity. If naught else, she would scream and shout. She would clutch the gem and flee his side, leaving him alone in this place. Worse, she might weep! Niall’s gut clenched.

But all the same, he could not willingly move away.

To his astonishment, Viviane smiled, confounding his expectation yet again.

“Good morning,” she murmured, a welcoming glow taking up residence in the depths of her eyes. Her smile widened and that dimple appeared in her cheek. Her fingertips brushed his jaw, wonder dawning in those marvelous eyes. “So, I didn’t dream you after all,” she murmured and the thunder of Niall’s pulse drowned on the pounding between his ears.

He found himself smiling back at her, filled with a sense of potency that he had not known in years. Her hand fell on the back of his neck, her fingers curled into his hair and she urged him back toward her breast.

Niall could not resist. He let his thumb move across her nipple again, savoring how she gasped when the roughness of his skin snared that turgid peak. Viviane fell back against the pillows, arching her back as she clenched his hair. She gasped and writhed, her delight making Niall want only to please her more. He bent to suckle her.

He began gently, loving how she moaned when he flicked the peak with the tip of his tongue. Her immediate response fed his own desire, the silky warmth of her skin prompted his fingers to drift ever lower and lower in exploration. She was lean and long, all supple curves and satiny skin, soft and feminine and seductive.

And she desired him. The way Viviane moaned in pleasure and stirred beneath Niall’s touch fed a newfound confidence in his own allure, a confidence that had been shattered along with his knee and his knightly life.

If this was the magic she wrought, Niall only wanted more. He wanted to please her in exchange for this feeling she gave him, to make her cry out and scream aloud.

Niall knew that he would have to fulfill the quest he had begun. He knew this and he deliberately forgot, pushing everything from his thoughts to focus solely on Viviane and her pleasure. He knew that he had never felt this way with a woman before, be there a spell cast or nay.

He knew without a shred of doubt that he would never forget her.

’Twould have to be enough.

Niall caressed the indent of each rib, he flattened his hand to slide his palm across her belly, he gripped the curve of her hip possessively. His other hand slipped beneath her, lifting her breast to his hunger as he feasted upon her. He gently grazed his teeth across that nipple, then laved his attention upon its partner, his every touch making Viviane writhe.

He trailed kisses up the length of Viviane’s throat, he kissed the wild pulse visible beneath the creamy perfection of her flesh. He kissed those moles, drawing a line between them with his tongue and blowing softly upon it, making her shiver with delight. Viviane locked her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, her kiss filled with all the urgency that Niall felt.

His tongue slipped between her teeth, he swallowed her sigh, his fingers dipped into the slick mystery between her thighs. He cupped her head in his hand and kissed her thoroughly as his fingers coaxed her response. He watched the flush rise over her flesh, the glitter of desire dawn in her eyes. Viviane twisted beneath his touch, but he granted her no escape, teasing her, drawing her further, urging her to the heights.

And when she cried out, her fingers clutching him, Niall swallowed the sound of her release greedily and held her while she trembled in its wake. She whispered something he did not catch, then her lashes fluttered to her cheeks again. She sighed and cuddled closer to him, a smile of contentment curving her lips as her breathing deepened.

Yet again, she slept against him, her legs entangled with his, her trust in him complete. A nigh unbearable sweetness flooded through Niall before practicality checked its course.

Indeed, his bile rose that the lady should have judged his intent so wrong. He was a knave of the lowest order to have fed her illusion. He was a liar and a thief, for ’twould be Niall who stole this woman’s life and freedom away from her.

He felt suddenly dirty, unworthy of sheltering her sweetness against his chest.

Niall rolled abruptly from the bed and put the width of the room between them. He shoved a hand through his hair and scowled, then turned back in time to see Viviane settle into the warm hollow he had left. His heart contracted painfully and he could not stop himself from stepping closer, if only to gaze upon her.

The cursed moonstone glinted at him as he drew near, rising and falling on the lady’s breast as she dozed, a tangible reminder of his pledge. Niall knew what he should do, just as he knew that in this moment, he could not do it.

One fall had indeed made him soft.

Niall swore under his breath, spun and snatched up the red shirt of Kissing Derek. He hauled it over his head and made impatiently for the door.

’Twas just the call of nature clouding his thoughts. Aye, that was the way of it. He had need of a garderobe, ’twas no more than that.

Then
Niall would keep his word.

* * *

Barb plugged in the kettle, chose Lemon Zinger from her array of herbal teas and yawned mightily as she waited for the water to boil. She leaned one hip against the counter and rubbed her eyes sleepily. Another day, another dollar.

Another day older and deeper in debt, more like it.

Her laugh was more of a snort. She wasn’t going to think about Payables so early in the morning when they’d kept her up half the night already. She deliberately went to the window, trying to let the gentle sprinkle of the morning rain calm her with its soothing echo on the roof.

Barb loved the patter of falling water. She closed her eyes and listened to the rain hitting the glass, feeling as though the sound alone could ease all the kinks out of her neck and straighten out all the tangles in her thoughts.

One of these days, she really had to get that garden planted. Barb could see it in her mind’s eye, her imagination helped by the pages of the horticulture magazines she dutifully earmarked and piled on her nightstand. There would be a little fountain splashing into a pond ringed by irises and lilies. The garden would be filled with private shadows, a world apart from everything else. It would be Barb’s own haven to retreat from the world, close her eyes and listen to the splash of water.

One of these days, she would work less and play more.

But not anytime soon. Barb heaved a sigh and admitted that planting a single Siberian Iris hadn’t been much of a start or an inspiration. It was probably a bad omen that the reputably tough plant had shown itself discontent with Barb’s garden.

The withered little thing couldn’t be said to be thriving.