Once Upon a Romance 02 - As The Last Petal Falls (18 page)

Vivi stared at him. He thought she was a spy. He thought
she
was a
spy
. She imagined what her father would have done, if he had a presumed spy in his custody. Suddenly MacTíre’s relatively minor restrictions on her seemed… insufficient.

“Fain MacTíre,” she planted her hands on her hips and glared at him, “are you telling me that you think I might be here to poison you, but you let me work in the kitchen? I could have killed every last
one
of you!”

“The Shapherds gave you every ingredient you put in the pie. I hardly see how you could have killed us.”

“What if I had a powder hidden in my pocket? What if I had a vial up my sleeve?”

“What pocket? And how could you hide anything with the sleeves rolled up like that? I don’t know if you realize it, Belle, but my clothes don’t leave much to the imagination on you. I think the Shapherds would have noticed any suspicious vials.”

“The king’s spymaster swears there’s a Chin assassin who’s made himself immune to all deadly substances, and when he needs to poison someone he takes enough to make his own blood toxic, so he can carry a lethal dose anywhere. I could have bled in the pie. I probably did. I’m not very good with a chef’s knife, you know.” Vivi was triumphant at Fain’s look of consternation.

“How do you know the king’s spymaster? Nevermind. I guess you’re right. We’ll have to throw it away.”

“What?! No!” She felt the triumph melt away. “It’s the first thing I’ve ever cooked, you can’t throw it away!”

He gave her a stern look. “You just told me how you could have poisoned it. You don’t really expect me to let everyone eat it, do you?”

“No, I-I guess I—oh, all right!” She glared at him. “You shouldn’t let anyone eat it. It might be dangerous. But
I
can eat it. I’ll tell you all how wonderful it is.”

They both stood glaring daggers at one another, until Fain finally laughed.

“What am I to do with you?”

“Well you
ought
to throw me in chains in your dungeon.”

“ I don’t think I have a dungeon. There’s the wine cellar, but it got flooded sometime last year and we’ve never drained it. Besides, I might be wrong. Maybe you’re telling the truth. It’d be a shame to throw an innocent woman in a swampy basement.”

“While I certainly agree with you for my own benefit, you have responsibilities. You can’t assume that I’m telling the truth.”

“That’s just what I’ve been telling Connelly.”

“Well, then,” she sighed. “You’ll just have to have someone with me at all times. I mean it. You can’t ever leave me alone. If I was really a spy I could be far more skilled than you think. You need to have me watched by someone who could overpower me, if need be.”

“Are you seriously standing there telling me to keep you under guard? You’re a strange sort of spy, Miss Wellesley.”

“
I am not a spy.
” She knew he was teasing her, but she scowled at him anyway, before speaking seriously. “But I
am
—” She broke off.

“What? What are you, Belle?” He pleaded. “Just tell me. Give me a reason to trust you. Tell me the truth.”

“That’s so easy for you to say. You want me to tell you who I am?” she said bitterly. “Tell me what
you
are, Fain MacTíre.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” But he did. She could tell from his voice that he knew exactly what she meant.

“I mean that you and your men are
not
soldiers in a far-flung outpost. You are
not
the Squire who owns this land, nor a land manager. You are
not
a wealthy man living independently and eccentrically in the wilds. You are not
any
of the honest,
respectable
things the leader of a company in the wilderness could be. So what are you?
You
tell
me.
Trust
me
.”

They stared at one another. Vivienne watched a storm of emotion chase across Fain’s face, before it hardened and closed off. She felt her insides wrench, and knew his answer before he gave it.

“I can’t.”

“Then I can’t,” she whispered back. “But Fain, I wish you would believe me. I won’t hurt you. I won’t hurt any of you.”

Something about the raw pleading in her face must have touched him. His face softened, and he reached a hand out, running his fingers through a few loose curls that framed her face. “I wish I could believe you.”

Footsteps pounded up outside the stable. Marlplot burst in, face wild.

“Master MacTíre, no one can find Billy!”

Vivi hastened to reassure them. “He’s not lost! I asked him to fetch me some witch hazel from the forest.” She was unprepared for the look of horror both men turned on her.

“You sent Billy into the forest?
Alone?
” Fain was incredulous.

“I didn’t send him alone; I mean, I suppose he went by himself, but…” Vivienne was at a loss for words. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Fain’s face turned red, but he spoke slowly and evenly. “You sent an eight year old boy alone into the woods in
winter
, and you want to know what’s wrong?”

“But Connelly has him gather herbs all the time!” Vivienne was growing frantic. They were acting as though Billy were in danger.

“Connelly takes him into the woods and
never leaves his side
.” It was eerie how Fain wasn’t yelling. Vivi felt a pit open up in her stomach. “The woods are full of dangerous predators, many of whom will attack a child, especially when game is scarce in the winter.” Her hand rose to her mouth, as the enormity of what she had done began to sink in. “Even without the animals, the woods are a dangerous place. If he fell, or got hurt, he could freeze to death before anyone found him.” Vivienne felt her knees go, and wilted down onto the straw. “Did you think we kept him in the keep for our own amusement?”

“I didn’t think.” She spoke so low she could barely hear herself. Horror choked her voice. “I didn’t think at all.” Tears began rolling down her cheeks. How many times did she have to make the same mistake? “I didn’t think. I didn’t think. I—”

“Enough.” Fain’s voice was still controlled. “You’ll do him no good falling to pieces. Get up. We’re going to look for him.” He turned to leave the stable. “Marlplot, tell Connelly, Kelly, and Branson that I want them and whoever they think knows the woods as well as they do to report to the gate. Tell them to bring extra blankets, in case.”

As Fain strode off, Vivienne stumbled to her feet and followed. She couldn’t stop the tears, but she could still use her eyes. She
would
find Billy. The alternative was unthinkable.

A commotion arose by the front gate. As they neared, Vivienne heard a familiar, piping voice raised in indignation.

“—dunno why you’re all so worried! It’s not like I’m a baby! Get off me! I’m fine!”

Dashing forward, Vivienne pushed through the small crowd of men who were circling little Billy Notter, who, aside from being highly irate, was completely whole and sound. Vivi knelt on the cold cobblestones and swept him into her arms.

“Oh Billy, Billy, Billy…” she chanted, relief making her voice weak. “I am so sorry, Billy.”

“Awwww… not you, too, Mistress Belle? I’m fine, see?” He pushed back from her and held his arms away from his body, letting her inspect him. “Not even cold, I bundled up so good.”

She gave him one more hug, thanking all the gods that he was safe, before he squirmed away and ran to Fain. The big man swung him up into the air and then set him gently on his feet again, never betraying the worry he must have felt.

“I’m glad you’re all right, lad, but no more jaunts into the woods on your own. Not until you’re older.”

Billy nodded and handed a pouch to Fain, then turned and dashed for the kitchens. “Bet the Shapherds have some cider waitin’!”

The crowd of men dispersed as Fain made his way to Vivi. She stayed crouched on the stone, trying to recover from the onslaught of emotions.

“I believe this is for you.” Fain held out the pouch of yellow flowers.

“I can’t take it. It’s only luck that my thoughtlessness didn’t get him killed.” She looked at him forlornly. “I am so very, very sorry, Fain.”

He gazed down at her a moment, and then tossed the pouch onto her lap.

“Take it then. Let it remind you. After all,” he walked away, leaving her on her knees, “Billy worked hard to bring it to you. Don’t let it go to waste.”

Vivienne wished she could wash away her turmoil as easily as she was going to wash away the grime on her skin. Her stomach was still clenched in knots over what might have happened to Billy, and she felt miserable every time she thought of her conversation with Fain. He didn’t trust her,
wouldn’t
trust her, and was even
less
likely to trust her now that she’d put Billy in such danger.

She wanted to go home. In the courts of Albion she knew all the dangers. She knew the games the nobility played, and she excelled at them. Here she knew nothing of any use, and every time she thought she was gaining ground she lost her footing. It was heart wrenching, and Vivi was so homesick she almost cried. But she didn’t. She refused to. Instead she tried to focus on the small pleasures.

Like the fact that she was finally going to be clean.

Marlplot had been her escort all evening; apparently Fain was following her advice to keep her under constant supervision. John had been happy enough to help her fill the hip bath in her room with steaming hot water. While they were waiting for the water to heat, they fetched a bar of the newly ready soap, and he even gave her a pile of laundered clothes and told her to pick out a few more shirts and breeches.

“Why, John! Thank you so much.”

“It’s nothing, Mistress Belle, just some of my older clothes. They don’t fit me no more.”

“Still, I’m grateful. This shirt is getting… unspeakable.” She grimaced at herself, and Marlplot chortled.

“I just wish it were a dress, Mistress.”

“Not to worry, John, you’re so large it will likely hang to my knees. We’ll call it the latest style in ladies’ fashion and dare anyone to contradict us.” He smiled again, and Vivienne was pleased. It was nice to make
someone
happy.

Finally everything was ready, and he left her alone in her room, assuring her he’d be right outside. Vivi wasn’t sure how Fain had phrased his instructions, but Marlplot wasn’t acting much like a jailer. It almost cheered her, thinking he might trust her more than he claimed, but then again, perhaps Marlplot had misunderstood Fain’s intentions.

Carefully, she worked the breeches down her legs until she could kick them free. It had taken her
forever
to work out how to get them on and off one handed, but since she refused to allow any of the men to accompany her to the jakes, she’d had to manage. The shirt was trickier. She’d had no occasion to remove it since Fain had helped her into it. Undoing the laces seemed a good place to begin, and after that she held the left cuff in her teeth while she pulled her arm free. Then it was a relatively simple matter to pull the shirt over her head and gently work it down over the bandages on her right arm.

At last, she sprinkled a judicious handful of the dearly bought witch hazel on the water, and stepped into the tub. She’d left the water well below the edge, wanting to make sure that as she settled in she wouldn’t slosh and wet her right arm, but even with barely enough water to cover her hips it was still heavenly. After one luxurious sigh, she took up the soap and began scrubbing weeks of grime off her body. She had just begun to lather the bottoms of her feet when she heard a knock on the door.

“Mistress? It’s time for me to go now, my turn is over.” Marlplot’s voice was muted by the heavy wood. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, John, and thank you again.” She tuned out the sound of men talking. No doubt Marlplot was bringing his replacement up to speed. With her toes as clean as she could make them, it seemed like the time had come to attempt her hair. The tub was so small she had to lever her legs out the far end in order to lower her head and dunk it under the water. She bobbed up and down several times, hampered by her need to keep her right arm dry, and then started to sit up, wiping the water from her face.

Just then the door opened, and Vivi heard MacTíre’s voice, sounding irritated.

“I would have sworn I told Marlplot not to leave your—” He stopped, making a strangled sound. Then he bolted back through the door, closing it behind him.

“MacTíre?” There was no answer. “Fain? Are you still out there?” Still, nothing. “Fain MacTíre, if I have to get out of this tub and go find a guard so that I am being properly monitored I am going to be
very
upset with you.”

The door opened a crack.

“Belle,” he sounded pained, “you have got to stop showing such casual disregard for your state of dress. I promise, no one will think less of you if you display a proper sense of modesty.”

“I am perfectly modest! It is not my fault that people undress me in my sleep, or walk in on me while I am bathing! You could have knocked, you oaf.”

“I
did
knock. When you didn’t answer, I worried you might have snuck out the window and gone to poison the well.”