Claire Delacroix (27 page)

“Really. Wild horses couldn’t drag it out of them.” Barb shook a finger across the table at Viviane. “They usually can’t manage to say marriage either, so count yourself lucky.” She grinned unexpectedly and pushed her glasses further up her nose. “Maybe you shouldn’t give up on him just yet. Sounds like he has some unexpected promise.”

“Oh, I think so!” Viviane smiled. “Thanks for your advice. You are so wise.”

“Mmm.” Barb flicked a glance across the table. “Well, here’s another bit of advice for free. Do yourself a favor and get some rubbers. I have a feeling you’ll be sharing your bed while you decide about this one. Better safe than sorry.”

Viviane frowned. “Rubbers?”

“No babies, no std’s. They’re cheap and effective.” Barb nodded firmly. “Trust me on this, Viviane, you don’t want to get pregnant before you know exactly where you stand.”

“Pregnant? No, that would only make things worse!” Viviane nodded hastily. If she got pregnant, she knew Niall definitely wouldn’t take no for an answer - he’d toss her over his shoulder and go looking for that priest, whether she was persuaded or not.

And Viviane wanted to be
sure
before she pledged to remain by a man’s side for all her days and nights.

“Rubbers,” she repeated carefully, so she wouldn’t forget the word, then smiled for Barb. “I’ll find some today.”

* * *

“I have to go and get rubbers,” the lady occupying Niall’s thoughts announced from the doorway. He glanced up in surprise, not having heard her on the stairs, and wondered how he could have forgotten how alluring she was.

She was wearing another of those short kirtles that drove him mad, this one adorned with yellow flowers on a black ground. Her arms were bare and her hair loose, that cursed pendant fairly glowing against her fair skin. She reached for a jacket hung inside the door, hauled it on and shoved her hands into its deep pockets. “Maybe we could get something to eat on the way.”

“I have coin now so there is no need for you to pay,” Niall agreed, getting quickly to his feet and brushing off his hands. He laid his tools carefully aside, well aware that kissing Derek’s chemise and short chausses were in need of a wash.

And return.

He would have asked Viviane for guidance on acquiring new garb, but she suddenly gasped. She strode across the floor to snatch up the brush he had been using. “What are you doing with this?”

“I clean my mail. ’Tis a most useful implement indeed, for the taint of the salt water is fiercely difficult to work from the links...”

Viviane shook it at him. “Do you know what this is?”

He guessed, despite the dawning sense that he was wrong. “A useful implement for cleaning mail?”

“A toothbrush. It’s a toothbrush, my toothbrush.”

Niall’s eyes narrowed. “Teeth have no hair to be brushed.”

Viviane laughed and shook the brush at him. “That’s what I thought. People clean them here, with this.” She leaned closer. “So their breath smells sweeter.” And she exhaled slightly, the scent of mint filling Niall’s nostrils.

He did not dare imagine how his breath smelled, for he had never conceived of brushing his teeth with mint. He kept his mouth resolutely closed. “I shall return it to you, duly cleaned.”

Viviane grimaced at the state of the brush he had used, her expression and the twinkle in her eyes making her look most appealing. “No. I’ll just buy another one. And one for you too.”

Niall, as always, was concerned about frugality. “Are such tools of great expense?”

“No. A dollar or so.”

Niall considered this, reviewed the money reputedly entrusted to the bankers in his name, then decided to stock up. “’Tis a paltry expense for such usefulness. I shall acquire a quantity for future use.”

After all, he wanted to ensure he looked his best at all times for Viviane. Though ’twas curious that a time with no use for mail developed the perfect tool for its maintenance.

“And what are these rubbers?” he demanded. “Are they of small expense as well? What purpose do they serve?”

“I don’t know how much they cost, but I
have
to have them.” Viviane turned to the door once more, as though avoiding Niall’s gaze. “Barb said they would keep me from getting pregnant.”

Niall started and stared, unable to hide his astonishment. “Why should you avoid that?”

His lady tossed her hair in a way that did not bode well for the presence of good sense. “That way you won’t have to worry about planting your seed, which means you won’t have to marry me after all.”

Niall was appalled by the very suggestion. “Viviane, what is done is done and my obligation to you unchanged, regardless of whether you acquire these rubbers or not. ’Tis unnatural to tamper with the course of God.”

She folded her arms across her chest and lifted her chin, her eyes snapping with defiance. “Well, I’m not
persuaded
that we should be married.”

Niall smiled slowly, infinitely reassured by her choice of words. He reached out and captured her hand, tracing a circle on its back with his thumb. “Then I shall have to be more persuasive.” He bent and brushed his lips across her knuckles, smiling against her skin when she shivered. “Perhaps, there is no need for haste in seeking a meal,” he murmured.

The lady snatched her hand away, but not quickly enough to hide her response from Niall. “Did you read my book?”

“Nay, Viviane, a responsible man does not mark his leisure before his labor is done.”

Instead of being impressed by this, Viviane’s eyes flashed. “Leisure? Learning about love isn’t leisure!”

“Viviane! I mean to show you that I am a man who can be relied upon! I fulfill my obligations first, I heed my responsibilities first, I tend my duties first.” He took a step closer, having no intention of putting his persuasiveness aside. “I would do well by you, Viviane, and indeed, there is many a man who would treat you with less than your due.”

She backed into the wall, but her eyes were wide, her lips parted, her wisp of a dress driving Niall to distraction. He leaned over her and heard her breath catch in a way that fired his own blood.

“Viviane,” he whispered, touching her chin with one fingertip and tipping her face to his. “Let me persuade you of the good sense of this.”

She leaned towards him, her eyelids fluttering closed and Niall smiled in anticipation as he dipped his head. But his lips barely brushed across hers before the lady darted away, ducking under his arm, then wrenching open the door.

“I need rubbers,” she insisted anxiously. “
Now
.” She shook a finger at Niall when he might have argued the case. “No rubbers, no persuasion.”

Well, if she was going to put matters like that, Niall had no choice.

The lady would have her rubbers. He ran a tongue across his teeth and wondered if ’twas his unminted breath she found troublesome.

That, too, could be resolved with all haste.

* * *

Monty waited until Romeo and Juliet were out of sight and earshot, then darted into Barb’s shop. Barb was sitting at the counter, frowning at a ledger, and barely glanced up at his arrival.

“Psst, Barb!” Monty looked over his shoulder. “Where’s he taking her this time?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Come on, Barb!” Monty crossed the room to make his appeal, but Barb kept adding the columns. “You and I go ’way back, you ought to like
know
when I’m hurting.”

That made her glance up. “You owe me eight hundred and ninety-four dollars and sixteen cents. Ante up.”

“Man!” Monty pushed a hand through his hair in exasperation. This wasn’t going to make things any easier, but then, Barb never did. “Come on, Barb, we’re in this together. We could have been an item, if you’d like been interested at all...”

She gave him a withering glance. “An item?”

“Yeah, you know, you and me, it would have been perfect and it’s not like I haven’t tried...”

Her eyebrows lifted. “To empty my shop without paying for anything you took.”

“Hey, that’s like an assault on my character! I’ve sincerely tried to woo you for years but...”

Barb pointed in the general direction of her kitchen. “See that red rubber thingy hanging over the counter?”

Monty looked. It was a flat circle and had some pizza joint’s logo printed on it. “Yeah. What is it?”

“A jar opener. It’s the mark of an officially single woman, a woman who needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.”

Monty scowled. “Women need men for more than opening jars!”

“Yeah, well, several things in my lingerie drawer say I’ve got that covered, too.”

And she went back to her books.

Monty watched for a few moments, guessing that he was not in any way in line to get what he wanted. He decided on a bald appeal to her feminine pride.

“Hey, come on, Barb, it wasn’t such a long shot for me to think of you and me together. We’re two of a kind after all - book lovers! - and our species is getting seriously rare. Like dinosaurs, you know, we gotta breed before we’re extinct...”

“
Dinosaurs
! Thank you for that, Monty Sullivan.”

“Okay, okay, bad analogy. Really bad. Give me a second. Crusaders!” Monty snapped his fingers. “
Crusaders
on a quest to save the written word, yeah, I like that. We’re fighting undaunted against the adversity of publisher conglomerations and the onslaught of the visual age...”

“Cut to the chase.” Barb shut him down with a look just when he was warming to his theme. “What do you want this time, Monty?”

Monty tried to turn up the charm. “Hey, Barb, like, take it easy.” He smiled.

Barb didn’t.

“Hey, you know, about that bill, well, we all know that winter sucks for revenue, but spring will come, it always does. And then royalties roll in, regular as rain...”

“I thought royalties came in the fall, too.”

Monty squirmed. “Well, yeah, they do.”

Barb tapped the list of his acquisitions for the year. “Yet, oddly enough, none of those little pennies from heaven showed up here, posting against your account.”

“Hey, Barb, it was less than I thought! And my agent is like a
thief
, man, he hit me for all sorts of fees that I wasn’t expecting and then, well, I owed Derek a lump of cash and the feds were after me for my quarterly deposit...

“And I came last. Again. Same story as last spring.” She closed the book grimly and held his gaze. “Don’t tell me you’re back for more.”

“Well, just a couple of books.” Barb rolled her eyes but Monty leaned closer, intent on making his case while he could. “You see, it’s about Viviane and this guy. It’s just too weird the way he goes on about coming from Cantlecroft, like he really did or something. About her being a condemned witch. It’s creepy, don’t you think, like he’s got it in for her.”

Barb snorted and shook her head. “Viviane doesn’t seem to share your reservations. I just sent them out for rubbers.”

“Go on!
Already
?” Monty scowled. “And, like, how could you know?”

Barb almost smiled. “Monty, there are sounds even a dinosaur doesn’t forget.”

Monty exhaled mightily. “Okay, so like it’s really critical now. I have a bad feeling about this guy, like a
really
bad feeling, and you know, I just want to make sure Viviane is okay. You do, too, don’t you?”

Barb’s lips tightened, but she nodded.

Reluctantly.

Monty didn’t care that she wasn’t thrilled to be doing so, he just wanted his books.

“You see, here’s the thing. I called the re-enactment people and they didn’t know anything at all about Viviane - nothing! - let alone Niall, and he’s not the kind of guy you miss seeing, if you know what I mean. They never heard of Cantlecroft either. And that’s kind of weird, which makes me wonder whether he’s really who he says he is...”

Barb frowned. “But Viviane said she knows him.”

“So, maybe she’s not who
she
says she is!” Monty flung out his hands. “Maybe they’re part of a plot, maybe they’re like
spies
, maybe she’s defected and he’s been sent to eliminate her before she talks too much...”

Barb almost laughed. “You’ve been reading too many conspiracy theories. Or too much of your own fiction. You do know that the Cold War is over, Monty?”

“Barb, this is serious!”

“Because you’re crazy in love with Viviane?” She looked skeptical about that, but Monty couldn’t exactly avoid the question.

And he couldn’t lie when she looked him dead in the eye.

“Well, no, not exactly.” He fidgeted. “I mean, I
like
her and she’s cute and everything, but it’s more than that.”

“More, but not crazy in love.”

“So, I kind of have an investment here and it bugs me that this guy just swept it and scooped her up. There! I said it. Don’t shoot!”

“So, you want to prove him to be the spawn of Satan and pick up where you left off.”

Monty fidgeted. “Well, yeah. It’s not like a crime.”

“You guys are all the same.” Barb sighed before Monty could defend his gender. “How do I fit in to this great scheme?”

“Books.” Monty cast a longing glance in the direction of the history section. “I want to look up Cantlecroft, figure out what that reference is all about, read all about it. It might give me a clue.”

Barb pushed to her feet with resignation. “So, go ahead and look. Park yourself in the corner but don’t bend any of the pages or leave any nasty fingerprints in the stock.”

“Actually -” Monty looked nervously toward the door “- I’d like to take them with me.”

Barb slammed the ledger on the counter and spun to face him. “Monty! You’ve confused this with the library again!”

“No, I’ve like
been
there and they have nothing. You know how pathetic the medieval history section is. And I need to know, I need to help Viviane, I need to make sure that this guy doesn’t mean her any harm...”

“To protect your investment.”

“Come on, Barb, give me some credit!”

She squarely met his gaze. “Your credit stinks. You pay this balance first, then we’ll talk.”