Once Upon a Romance 02 - As The Last Petal Falls (15 page)

“None of them can hear you, Miss Wellesley, so there’s really no use.”

Simon Legrey sounded angry. As well he might. Men all over the keep had heard about her dressing him down, and had been mocking him with it ever since. Another time, Vivi might have thought on that with satisfaction, but now she was terrified. She had wounded his pride, and clearly he wanted some sort of revenge.

She twisted and bucked her body as her left hand tugged frantically on the one covering her mouth, but she couldn’t budge it, nor could she break free. He chuckled, enjoying her distress.

“Struggle all you want, my fine lady. Some men like their women sweet and biddable, but me?” He licked along her neck, leaving a trail of slime up to her ear. “I like to have them fight.”

Rage coursed through her. He wanted her to fight, did he? Vivi felt in the mood to oblige him. She stopped trying to pull his hand away from her mouth, and instead shoved it hard against her teeth. Then, using every ounce of force she could muster, she bit down, hard.

Fain watched Simon whispering in Belle’s ear, and wondered what they were plotting. He could barely see the lass, covered as she was by the much larger Legrey, but he knew she was there. He felt the anger growing in his chest at this evidence of her falsehood.

It wasn’t until Legrey pushed Belle from him, screaming at the blood pouring from his hand, that Fain realized he’d gotten it wrong.

For a moment he was paralyzed by his mistake, but then he saw Simon smash his palm across Belle’s defiantly raised cheek. She cried out and fell against the wall, but struggled upright, trying to defend herself. All of a sudden his rage was back full force, and this time it had an outlet.

Legrey raised his hand to strike her again, and Fain sprang forwards, grabbing the hand and bending it backwards. The blackguard was caught unaware and completely off-balance, and he spun his body rapidly to compensate. Fain readied himself, and as soon as Legrey was fully facing him he let loose a vicious right hook, knocking Simon to the floor. Fain leapt on top of the downed man and, grabbing his head in both hands, slammed it repeatedly into the floor. When Legrey’s eyes lost focus, Fain pounded it once more for good measure, and then backed away, breathing hard.

“Fain?”

Belle’s voice was hesitant, as though she were uncertain how he would respond. He lifted his eyes and looked at her. She had blood on her mouth, both Simon’s and her own. Her hair was even more disheveled than normal, and her face was pale. His heart beat painfully in his chest at the sight of her so shaken. He grabbed a cloth from the wash basin and, using his free hand, cupped the back of her head gently. Carefully he blotted the blood from her chin and cheek, avoiding her split lip.

“I’m sorry, Belle.” The wide violet eyes watched him. “This shouldn’t have happened.” He stared fixedly at her mouth, trying to get the last bit of blood off, trying to avoid seeing the accusation that must be in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

She reached up and took his hand, effectively ending his ministrations. When he looked up, she spoke softly. “Thank you, for stopping him.”

Two tears rose in her eyes, and, before they could fall, Fain pulled her close against his chest and wrapped her safely in his arms.

It was like his dream. She lay her unbloodied cheek trustingly against his chest while he cradled her close. They stood for a moment, neither moving nor speaking. Fain felt tears soak through the linen of his shirt, and her shoulders heaved in silent sobs. He wanted to soothe her—wanted to promise to keep her safe—and at the same time he wanted to flee. His heart felt like it was being torn in half inside his chest, caught between the emotions.

At last she calmed and stirred, and Fain quickly dropped his arms and backed away, grabbing Legrey off the floor and slinging him across his shoulders.

“Fain, wait—”

“I have to deal with Simon.” He was curt. He didn’t want to talk, he just wanted to pretend that the last few moments hadn’t happened. “I’ll send Marlplot to help you.”

She let out an exasperated growl. “Don’t you run away from me.” He headed for the door. “I have questions for you!” He kept walking, moving his feet faster. She shouted after him.

“You are the most infuriating man in the world, Fain MacTíre!”

“Glad to hear it lass,” he called back. “It’s good to know I excel at something.”

Simon Legrey came to when Fain threw him into a snowbank. The man lay there and moaned, holding his head as though it were going to fly to pieces. Fain and several others regarded him without sympathy.

“What’s your problem, MacTíre?” Legrey sniped at him.

“Matthew, would you care to explain to our former comrade what my problem is?”

The more serious of the Shapherd brothers glowered at Simon. “I believe you feel he assaulted a woman under our protection, Fain.”

“True enough. Anything to add, Connelly?”

“’tis my thinkin’ that ye’re ruminatin’ on the charges that first had Simon here run from his home ta join our wee band. Thinkin’ that perhaps they had more merit than this boggart claimed.”

“I am indeed. Sean Kelly ? Did you wish to say something?”

K elly, a small, wiry man, stepped forward and kicked snow in Legrey’s face. “I believed your lying tongue, when you told me it was lies, that the duke’s daughter loved you, that his lordship just objected to your low birth. I vouched for you, on the strength of our old friendship. And now you have proven yourself to be just the villain the duke claimed you to be.” His normally cheerful face was incensed as he leaned low and hissed, “Get out.”

“Connelly? Matt?” Fain polled the impromptu tribunal.

“Agreed.” The men spoke almost as one.

“You heard them, Simon. Go, and don’t ever return.”

Legrey scrambled up with a sneer. “Fools. What makes you think I won’t go running straight to the king, with news of your whereabouts?”

Fain laughed. “What makes
you
think we’re worried about that? I warrant you get anywhere near the king, and the duke will have you shot in the head. You can’t betray us without hanging yourself.” He smiled, and felt his teeth bare wolfishly. “I know your kind, Legrey. Revenge isn’t worth the cost to yourself.”

The sneer died and was replaced by sullen ire. “At least provision me.”

“No,” Sean Kelly spoke up. “You leave as you came, with nothing.”

“I agree,” Matt Shapherd rumbled decisively. “You’re good for nothing, and you get nothing.”

Connelly didn’t say anything, just look ed at Fain. Fain nodded his head slowly. “A bag of hardtack, and a bow, to shoot what you may. Plus any blankets you claim as your own.” Sean and Matt started to protest. “I know how you feel, lads, but if we send him out with nothing then we might as well kill him now. And neither of you spoke for death.”

They stood silent for a moment, then Sean nodded as well. “I’ll get his blankets and bow.”

“Hardtack, coming up.” Matt trotted off. Both were back in short order. Simon said nothing more, just stood and waited. When the provisions arrived he shouldered them all and turned to go, without a word.

“Follow him. Make sure he leaves the valley, then let him be.” Fain ordered in a low, curt voice, and Sean nodded. He was enough of a woodsman to follow Simon unseen, and had expected the assignment. Once he had slipped out the gate and Matt had returned to the kitchen, Fain looked at Connelly.

“I’ve a task for you, as well.”

“No need ta mention it, MacTíre. I’m already on my way.” Fain watched Connelly go, wishing he were going in the little man’s place, and knowing he did not dare.

Vivienne was pacing in front of Connelly’s fire. She didn’t want to pace, she wanted to flop on her pallet in exhaustion and mental fatigue, but every time she tried to stop moving her nerves drove her to her feet once more.

At first it had been her reaction to the incident with Simon keeping her moving. She shuddered when she thought of how close she had come to real injury. Mostly, though, she was angry at him. Angry that he was bigger than she was, angry that she couldn’t have fought him, no matter how much she longed to do so. When Fain had slammed him into the floor, Vivienne had felt a primal satisfaction. It was unnerving to feel so good about seeing a man beaten into unconsciousness, but her only regret was that she didn’t do it herself.

Eventually she’d stopped seething, and then the tears came. She had been so scared, trapped in the laundry like that. In her father’s palace no man would ever have dared to lay his hands on her without permission, and somewhere deep inside she’d never really believed any man could. She’d been a fool, running away like it was a grand adventure, as though she were somehow invincible. The hot tears ran down her face while she shook in delayed terror.

If Fain hadn’t come when he did… She clutched the back of the heavy wooden chair, spasmodically clenching and unclenching her hand. Her lungs heaved as she tried to control her sobbing. She would not stand in this dark room and cry like a little girl. She would
not.

The door opened and she let out a little startled scream, snatching up the hearth shovel to defend herself.

“Easy, lass, easy. I dinna care ta lose any teeth.”

“Connelly!” she gasped in relief. “I’m sorry, I was—” She paused, unsure of how to complete that sentence.