Once Upon a Romance 02 - As The Last Petal Falls (20 page)

“I’m ready. Try not to pull it out by the roots.”

“If I snatch your hair out, it won’t be by accident.”

His voice was acerbic, but his hands were gentle, and he sectioned her hair with patient fingers. Vivienne had last combed her hair out in the inn where she abandoned Wallace, and now it was a snarled mess. She’d half expected Fain to declare that it would have to be cut, but instead he picked up the comb and started working through the end of one section, gradually making his way towards the roots.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

“Combed a lady’s hair? Oh, yes.”

“Was it… your wife?” Vivi was hesitant. Fain hadn’t mentioned a wife, but then, why would he? He thought she was a spy. All of a sudden her insides seemed as much a snarled mess as her hair, but Fain laughed and her stomach unclenched.

“No, I’m not married. My father’s ward, my foster-sister, had wretchedly long hair. Once, when she was five or six, her nurse threatened to cut it, and she came to me, crying her eyes out. I must have spent three hours or more untangling it.”

“That was nice of you.”

He chuckled. “I hadn’t really thought ahead. From then on, whenever she tangled her hair she would come to me and demand I fix it. It got terribly embarrassing as we got older. One of my friends started calling me Lady Lovely Locks.” Vivienne giggled. “Laugh if you want to, but be warned, eventually I held him down and shaved all his hair off to make him stop.” She choked off her titters and spoke with mock sobriety.

“A fearsome threat, indeed.”

“I should think so. You’d look frightful bald.”

She let out a delicate snort, and then a distinctly less-than-delicate hiss as Fain worked the comb through a particularly bad knot.

“Don’t be such a baby. That was nothing. You should see the yanking I had to do on my foster-sister.”

“And what was this valiant girl’s name?” His hands hesitated on her hair. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Your hair will be good as new in just a few moments.”

“I didn’t mean my hair. Why don’t you want to tell me her…” Vivi trailed off. Of course. How forgetful of her. “Nevermind.”

“Belle—”

“No, Fain, it’s fine, really.” She stared straight into the fire, and made her voice unconcerned. “You shouldn’t tell me anything at all. And I will stop asking.”

All the tangles were gone from her hair now, and he was running the comb over and over, from her hairline all the way down to the tips. When he had smoothed the top he began working the comb through on the underside, scraping the teeth lightly along her neck, giving Vivi shivers down her spine.

“You could tell me more about
your
life.”

She bit her lip in thought, but then gave a brief shake of her head. “It seems we’re at an impasse.”

He continued combing, seemingly unperturbed.

“Fain? One more question, and then I promise to stop.”

“If I can answer it, I will.”

“Did you send someone to Albion?” It’s what she would have done, in his place. He was silent for a minute, and she was afraid he wasn’t going to answer her, but then he let out a sigh.

“I did.”

“When will he be back?”

“A few more weeks, maybe. It depends on the weather.”

Vivi bit her lip. A few more weeks. Unless his messenger was a fool, there was every chance he would return with the news of who she really was. Vivienne didn’t know what Fain would do. The silence stretched between them, and Vivi tried to think of something to say, before he asked what she was thinking.

“Then for a few more weeks I’ll stay with my guard and not ask personal questions, and I most
definitely
won’t cook anything.”

She could hear the smile in his voice. “That sounds like a good idea.”

“And in return…”

“What?” He was amused, but hesitant.

“You will keep treating me like a friend.
Not
a spy.”

“So, you won’t do anything to test my trust, and in return I’ll pretend you’re not a spy?”

“Mmm… Something like that.”

He was silent while he gathered her hair together and ran his fingers through it one last time.

“All right, then. We’ll try it. Now, into bed with you, Miss Whoever You Are. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

Water from the enormous laundry tub splashed over the side, soaking Vivienne from her chest all the way down to her bare feet.

At least it wasn’t cold.

She’d been on fire with curiosity, the night before, over what her big day might encompass. If only she’d known at the time that MacTíre intended to set her to helping wash the laundry.

Maybe she
would
have killed him in his sleep.

She was working the large wooden paddle through her fourth load of laundry when Connelly peered around the laundry door and eyed her soaked shirt.

“Belle, me lass, I believe ’tis traditional ta take yer clothes off
afore
ye attempt ta wash them.”

“Connelly, were you just here to mock my washing attempts, or did you have some other, more noble purpose?”

“I was thinkin’ I’d take a walk ta the woods, seein’ as how ’tis such a fine day, an’, since ye liked my herbs, I thought ye’d like ta come.”

Vivienne was delighted, but checked herself. “I’m not sure. Is John invited as well?”

“Master Marlplot has been summoned ta the stables ta help check the horses’ shoes.”

“I’d love to go, but I don’t think I can. John is my guard today, and I can’t just wander off and leave him. I promised Fain I would behave myself.”

“No worries, lassie, ye’ll have a guard.”

“I don’t mean to offend you,” she said with a smirk, “but you don’t really seem brawny enough to be a guard, Connelly.”

“Oh, not me, lass! I wouldna dream of it. No, MacTíre himself is headed ta the woods. He’ll do ta watch yer body.”

Suddenly Vivienne couldn’t get out the door fast enough. The regular wash crew bemoaned her loss, but she promised them all to return next wash day. Marlplot agreed to accompany them through the keep, and the three made haste to Vivi’s room, where she changed out of her sodden clothing. Even with practice she was still slow, and her impatience mounted. She was going into the woods with Fain!

She tried to walk sedately to the outer bailey, but Connelly could sense her eagerness.

“Dinna hurry so, lass. He’ll not leave without ye.”

“You mistake me, Master Connelly,” she sniffed, “I am merely anxious to get some fresh air. It is a matter of supreme unconcern to me with whom I… I…”

Vivienne forgot what she was saying.

Fain was leaning next to the stables, broad shoulders resting against one of the massive raincatchers that were used to supply the horses with water. Billy Notter was standing, earnestly nodding to something MacTíre was saying, and Vivienne heard him give a laugh and say, “Good lad.” His dark hair had been tied back in a rough club, leaving the rugged lines of his face exposed. It looked open and relaxed, and Vivi realized she had never seen him so at ease before. With her there was always, even in his lightest moments, the thread of mistrust and suspicion.

She watched him, reveling in the chance to do so unseen. She watched as he reached out with his strong hand and ruffled Billy’s hair. She watched as his dark, magnetic eyes shone down at the happy boy. And she watched as his mouth—that firm, proud mouth that so captured her attention—curved into a gentle smile. He must have forgotten to shave that morning, because the faint shadow of stubble graced his cheeks. Vivi itched to draw her fingers down his jaw. She wanted to trace the contours of his chin, and glide her fingertips down to the warm, beating pulse nestled at the base of his throat. She wanted to burrow into his thick woolen jacket until she rested against the hard plane of his chest, listening to his heart beat in her ear.

She wanted him to be this carefree man with her.

Without thinking, she heaved a great sigh, and at the noise Fain turned towards them.

“Why so despondent, Belle? I would have thought a day in the woods would be more to your liking than a day as a laundress.”

Vivienne pretended she didn’t feel a pang of regret at the way his face closed off when he caught sight of her. Instead, she pulled her countenance into dramatic lines of worry and angst.

“I am merely contemplating the loss of toes that is sure to ensue from my parading around in the snow barefoot.” She wiggled her toes at him to emphasize the point.

“Well then,” Fain replied, “you must thank Master Notter for his dutiful efforts on your behalf.” When Vivienne raised an eyebrow quizzically at Billy, the young boy offered her a large bundle.

“Master MacTíre sent me ’round this morning, looking for gear to suit you, and seeing to your boots.”

Vivienne clapped her hands in delight at the sight of her own riding boots, cleaned and polished until they shone, jumbled up with a motley collection of winter gear.

“Billy Notter, you are a veritable knight in shining armor.” He beamed at her, until she kissed his cheek, whereupon he promptly fled.

“Really now, lass, ye’ve got ta be wary where ye bestow such things.” Connelly winked at her. “Not every man can withstand yer allure. We’re not all of us knights like Master Notter.”

“Actually, Connelly, I’m feeling very
resistable
these days.” She cast an arch glance at Fain, but he loftily ignored their banter.

“Hop up on this barrel, Belle, and I’ll help you with your things.”

“A lady of good breeding does not
hop
, Master MacTíre.”

“Climb up?”

“We don’t do that either.” Vivienne kept her face smooth, even when she caught Connelly’s twinkling eye.

“Then what
do
you do?” Fain was trying to keep a straight face, but the corner of his mouth was twitching.

“We
ascend.
” Vivi, without ever losing her regal hauteur, skipped over to the barrel and bounced up on it, wiggling her rear end to settle herself. Then she lofted her foot towards Fain and nodded to him graciously. “Proceed.”

Belle was soon bundled up in the gear that Billy had collected. He’d found a heavy shirt somewhere, as well as an old, worn wrap that one of the men had been using as an extra blanket, and a bright red cap that no one else was willing to wear, since it made them too conspicuous in the snowy forest. Last but not least, Billy had taken his old gloves and trimmed the fingers, so that Belle’s long-fingered hands would fit inside. She looked like a ragamuffin, but she claimed she was toasty warm, and that was all that mattered.

The three made their way out the sally port and began trudging towards the tree line. There was a faint path broken in the snow, but still, it wasn’t easy making their way through the drifts. Fain moved in front of Belle, trying to shuffle his feet without her noticing, clearing as much of the snow as he could. The pines protected the forest floor, so that much of the snow there was just barely above their ankles. Once they began moving beneath the trees, they picked up the pace, with Connelly leading the way.

The air was cold and scented with fallen needles, but the brisk pace was more than enough to keep Fain warm. Judging from Belle’s smile and bright-eyed interest in the forest around them, she wasn’t cold, either. Of course, her nose and cheeks were the shade of holly berries, but then, his probably were, too. Just then she caught his eye and smirked at him.