Claire Delacroix (29 page)

Viviane swallowed. “I haven’t had a chance to write it down, but I will. I promise.”

“Aye, you will,” Niall punctuated his words with a telling glance. “For I would know the ending of the tale.”

“Because of our wager?” Viviane asked, hoping that Niall didn’t just want to have a final answer to his proposal.

He frowned. “Nay! I want to know the resolution of the tale! Indeed, you cannot leave me to fret for the hide of that knight, no less the woman he swore to win for his own.” He drove his fist into his palm. “They are both in dire peril and I must know the ending of their tale.”

“Oh, it sounds so good!” Mrs. MacAllister’s eyes were cat-bright. “When do I get to read it, my dear? You know how I love a good story.”

“Well.” Viviane looked away from Niall with difficulty. Honestly, he looked as though he would stand right there and wait for her to scribble down the end of the book! “I guess I’ll have to find a publisher, right, Barb?”

“Uh huh. Look, there’s a book right here, a market guide for writers.” Barb pulled down a fat volume from another section and strolled closer, thumbing through the back. “There’s usually a listing under the index of romance publishers...”

Niall scooped the book out of her hand, scanning the column under Barb’s finger. “Aye? And what does one do?”

“Well, you send them the book. Not the original, a copy, and they decide whether they want to buy it. At the front, it usually talks about format and stuff, and each listing tells what the publisher likes to see.”

Viviane reached out a hand for the book, but Niall shot her a dark look. “You have a tale to commit to the page. I shall read this volume while I wait the ending of yours.”

“And then what, Viviane?” Mrs. MacAllister demanded. “Are you going to be a famous author?” She giggled, looking markedly younger than her years and dug her elbow into Niall’s ribs. “She might not even admit she knows us then!”

“Nay, Viviane is not of the kind who believe themselves better than their fellows, simply by dint of a stroke of fortune,” her knight insisted, a small smile curving his lips as he warmly considered her. Viviane felt herself blush. “After all, the lady was born under a blue moon and has been uncommonly lucky all her days.”

There was no mockery in his tone, not a shred of skepticism, only affection shining in his eyes.

Oh, he had understood!

Viviane’s heart began to pound and she couldn’t look away from his gaze. “Did you really like it?”

Niall smiled fully and folded his arms across his chest, his gaze turning indulgent. “Do you imagine I am irked at not knowing the ending because the tale had no merit? You did a fine job, my lady, indeed, you are most talented.”

“Oooo!” Mrs. MacAllister squealed. “Isn’t this
exciting
? We’ll have our own author!”

“Well, the book isn’t ready to go anywhere,” Viviane argued.

“’Tis true enough,” Niall agreed pointedly. “It has no ending.” He turned to Barb. “Do you know the books of these publishers?”

She led him toward the shelves, chatting about this publisher and that one. Viviane followed, she and Mrs. MacAllister pointing out the books they particularly enjoyed. Niall quickly learned where to look for the publishers’ addresses and was compiling titles against the listings in the market book in no time at all.

Mrs. MacAllister
toodle-ooed
and went on her merry way - no doubt to tell anyone who would listen about Viviane’s book - and Barb made a run to the bank. Niall hauled a chair across the shop and settled in the romance section. He began to examine the books in turn, focusing on those adorned with knights and damsels, and was busy making sense of it all by the time the store closed.

Viviane was itching to ask him again whether he had liked her book, whether he had recognized himself and all that good stuff, but she didn’t know how to do it. So, she worked and he worked, and she watched him through her lashes until she couldn’t stand it any longer.

Then she took a deep breath and crossed the shop.

And in the end, she didn’t have to say anything at all.

* * *

“This is of similar ilk to yours,” Niall declared without looking up from the volume he perused when Viviane came back to his side. “For it concerns a knight, though your tale is finer.”

A part of Viviane hated that she was so unsure of her work, but she couldn’t help asking for Niall’s praise. “You really liked it?”

Niall glanced up at her and smiled. “Aye, Viviane, you have a rare gift for making a tale take flight from the page. You paint an image with words with rare talent.”

Viviane smiled back, three-quarters reassured. She locked her hands together, knowing she had to ask the question she’d rather not. “Is there anything you
didn’t
like?”

Niall pursed his lips and considered her, as though wondering how honest he should be.

But Viviane had to know. “Really. I’d like you to tell me. If I could change something to make it better, I’d do it because I want to send this to a publisher.”

She hunkered down beside Niall when he didn’t say anything, intent only on explaining herself. “I mean, wouldn’t it be wonderful to see my book like this! People like Mrs. MacAllister would be able to read it and I’d have a job doing something I really liked. Not that I don’t like working in the shop, but I don’t want to be a burden on Barb after she’s been so nice to me and all.”

“This is of great import to you.”

“Yes.” Viviane’s mouth went dry as their gazes held and the silence stretched long.

Then Niall nodded in understanding. “They talk too much abed, to my thinking, for there are more interesting matters to attend with one’s mouth in such circumstance.”

He winked unexpectedly and Viviane dropped her gaze, remembering all too well the interesting things he had done with his mouth.

Niall cleared his throat, his fingers rifling through the manuscript again. “And your innocence is evident in some of their couplings.”

Viviane’s cheeks heated. “I can fix that now.”

Niall’s eyes twinkled when she dared to meet his gaze once more. “Aye, I have little doubt of that,” he said warmly and Viviane felt as though she was the only person in his world.

It wasn’t a bad feeling.

“Though truly, my lady, you might have need of further
persuasion
. The third time in particular seemed most challenging to me.” He coughed into his hand, that wicked glint reappearing in his eyes. “I believe we should ensure the pose is a plausible one.”

“Niall!”

He flipped open the reference book, tapping the header on a chapter called “Research”. His eyes gleamed, though he tried to take a lofty air. “’Tis your duty as a writer to ensure that all you include is truth.”

Viviane tried to look disgusted with him and failed. “And you volunteer to help with my research?”

He bowed slightly. “’Twould only be gallant.”

Viviane laughed at him, she couldn’t help it. Niall grinned and their gazes held for a breathless moment before Viviane remembered not only that they were in the shop, but that she was trying to get his opinion.

And see if he noticed the most important part of all.

“Anything else?” Now, she tried to not look too hopeful. Niall had shown he was a perceptive man - had he discerned that she was really writing about him? Had he guessed how she felt? Had he understood what she meant about love and its importance?

Viviane held her breath and hoped.

When he spoke, it seemed that he chose his words carefully. “Aye, there is one more thing I noted.”

Viviane bit her lip, but Niall suddenly looked at the pen Barb had lent him and discovered the button to retract the nib. He clicked it a few times with obvious delight, then prepared to take the pen apart, doubtless intending to pry at its magical workings.

“You shouldn’t do that, you know. No one likes having meddlers in their magic.”

Niall’s glance was wry. “I meddle with no magic.”

“Of course, you do! Everything here is magic and sooner or later, someone won’t take kindly to your...”

“Viviane,
naught
is magic here.”

Viviane sat back on her heels, astonished that he could be so sure of himself, especially when he was wrong. But Niall’s gaze never wavered. “Of course, it’s magic! What else could it be?”

“’Tis the cleverness of man we witness,” Niall confided. “’Tis not true that we are in Avalon, though indeed, you were not so foolish to imagine so. This place is indeed full of marvels.”

Viviane frowned. “Well, where is it, if it’s not Avalon?”

“’Tis a place called Salt Spring Island...”

“Oh, I know they call it that!”

Niall’s eyes grew sober and his voice dropped low. “Nay, Viviane, they call it that for that is what ’tis. Truly. ’Tis not Avalon, but a foreign land, thousands of miles from Cantlecroft.”

Viviane blinked and looked around herself. “No, Niall, that can’t be true. There’s magic everywhere here!”

“Nay, these marvels are but the workings of men.” Niall unscrewed the pen as she watched, a spring and a narrow tube dropping into the palm of his hand. He fiddled with it for a moment, then put the spring and tube back into the bottom of the pen. He pushed the nib in and out, then showed her how the button at the top pressed the assembly back and forth.

No vengeful sorceror smote him for dissecting this magic and indeed, when Niall explained it, it didn’t seem very magical at all.

“’Tis cleverness, Viviane, no more than that.”

But Viviane frowned. “Then, why have we never seen any of these things? Why have we never heard of these marvels? Travelers and merchants leave Cantlecroft all the time, then return with tokens from foreign lands - surely they could have brought these!”

“Only if they had been here.”

Viviane flung out her hands. “You know that the merchants leave Cantlecroft for the four corners of Christendom!”

“But they do not leave Cantlecroft’s
time
.”

Viviane stared at her knight in astonishment, certain he had lost his wits, but he held her gaze steadily. “Viviane, we have come into the days far beyond our own,” he explained softly. “’Tis the year 1999, nigh 2000 years since the birth of Christ and some six hundred years away from all we know.”

Viviane caught her breath. “But that’s impossible!”

“Clearly not, for we are here.” Niall dug in his pocket and unfolded bills, pointing out the date to her. He showed her coins, with the A.D. clearly marked after the year - 1999! - on a shiny new penny. Viviane couldn’t believe she hadn’t really looked at them before.

She’d liked the pictures of the animals and assumed the numbers meant something entirely irrelevant to her.

Niall seized her hand and showed the legends on maps, even the dates in the front pages of books. Viviane gave a little cry when she realized that the ‘-99’ on the cash register tape implied a ‘19’ in front of it.

She turned to Niall, still shaking her head. “But how? How can this be? How did we get here?”

“I do not know. ’Tis some wondrous invention of which we know naught, but clearly one of this time.”

Viviane frowned, momentarily uncertain how that could have happened. She fingered her pendant. “But I wished on the pendant and then came here,” she said slowly. “Unless someone summoned me here at the very same moment with whatever invention is at work...”

Her voice trailed away, that not sounding very likely to her. Niall’s gaze fell to the pendant.

“And I wished upon the stone, as well. ’Twas that which brought me to your side, or so I believed.”

Viviane’s fingers trailed across the stone and she shivered at its chill. “But how could that be? Do you think my father is here, in this time and place?”

Niall shrugged. “Or perhaps he was once. We know for certain that naught from our own days could explain this feat.” He met her gaze. “Maybe he came from here.”

Suddenly, it all made perfect sense to Viviane. “And loved my mother. That was why I never knew him. But my father did save me! My father did give me a token of his love in this gift!” she said with delight. “He saved my life!”

Niall did not smile.

“Don’t you see, Niall? We’re as far away from the archbishop and his court as we could possibly be!”

Niall nodded heavily. “Aye.”

“But if I have the stone and it’s not from Cantlecroft, then no one can ever follow us here! I’m safe!”

“I do not know for certain, though ’twould seem to be the case.” Niall frowned, though Viviane couldn’t guess why. “Just as I do not know whether we can go back.”

But who
wanted
to go back?

Not Viviane! She was ready to sing and dance. In fact, she couldn’t imagine why Niall looked so glum.

“That’s perfect!” she declared with a grin. “Who would want to go back? We couldn’t have planned any better than this if we had tried! I
told
you that I was uncommonly lucky and it seems my father was lucky, too!”

Niall frowned. “Viviane, perhaps you do not understand...”

“I understand exactly what you’re saying. We’re stuck here, which suits me fine. Niall, I don’t care whether I can ever go back to Cantlecroft or not!” Viviane practically bounced. “I’m here and I’m staying here and you’re here and you’re staying here - it’s perfect!”

Niall got to his feet, frowning at her. “But Viviane, we do not belong in this place...”

Viviane arched a brow skeptically. “Niall, I don’t belong anywhere where someone is trying to have me killed.”

He pushed his hand through his hair and appealed to her. “But Viviane, ’tis not right that your reputation should be maligned! We could clear your name! You are
innocent
, the archbishop would clear the charge against you if he knew the truth of matters.”

Trust Niall to want to do something so sweet! Viviane’s heart melted that he believed in her innocence so much that was prepared to defend her.

And he said he wasn’t really a knight any more.

Unfortunately, Viviane didn’t share her knight’s conviction that justice would prevail at the archbishop’s court.

She caught at his hands and leaned close to explain, knowing she could persuade him. “But I’m
safe
here, Niall.”