“I’ll save you, fair Ella, just give me the chance!
I’ll help with your business. Shall I take off my pants?”
Vivienne basked in her triumph. The “losers” of the bet, and the men they had recruited to help them, were being toasted like heroes, and everyone was talking about what the next production could be. Even Fain was smiling, but he held himself apart from the general sea of congratulations. Finally she could stand it no longer, and she presented herself before him with a graceful bow.
“Did our humble players meet with your approval, your lordship?”
“Of course they did. It was very well done.”
“Then perhaps,” she replied archly, “you would be so good as to tell them so?”
Fain sighed and shook his head, but he leapt up on the stage and held up his hands for quiet.
“Gentlemen, you have given us a rare entertainment tonight; you have my thanks.” This was echoed from nearly every man in the hall. “Now, for those of you who were there on the night the forfeit was assigned, you will be aware that another wager was made.”
The hall went still in anticipation.
“Mistress Belle,” he addressed her with exaggerated humility, “what shall you claim as your forfeit?”
Vivienne beamed out across the crowd of men, inviting suggestions with the lift of her brows. Catcalls ensued, suggesting everything from dressing him in bloomers to making him dance a quadrille, but Vivienne already knew what she wanted.
“I would like to invite you all to gather here in the great hall every night between now and our Yule festivities, when Master MacTíre...” She drew it out for suspense, and then finished with a flourish, “will be reading us all a bedtime story!”
There was a dead pause, and then the men began laughing. Fain opened his mouth, but Vivi held up a hand. She had one more thing to add.
“With the voices. You won’t want to miss this. He does excellent voices.”
Chapter Twenty
“... gazing across the room, the little soldier spotted a dainty ballerina with but one leg, like him. In that moment he fell in love, and pledged her his loyalty.”
Vivienne moved around the great hall, tying up holly boughs and pine wreaths as she listened to the beloved tale. Fain’s “storytime,” as it had come to be known, had lasted well over an hour on this, the last evening. Tomorrow was the beginning of the Yule festivities, and his forfeit would be paid. If she hadn’t been so busy, Vivi would have been curled up on a hearthstone near Fain’s knee, her regular spot for many of these past evenings.
“And so he melted into the shape of a heart, a sign always that he had been loyal until the end.”
The men clustered around the fire clamored for another tale, but Fain shook his head with a laugh.
“I have paid my debt to Mistress Belle, and you will all have to be content with more mundane enjoyments from now on.”
“Aye, at least until the lad loses another wager.” Connelly had been there for almost every night of storytime, and now he spoke from one of the benches near the hearth. With a general rumble of laughter at his comment, the gathering broke up, heading to bed. Everyone wanted to retire early, as the next night no one would sleep before dawn.
After saying goodnight to his men, Fain walked over to where Vivienne was setting candles out on the trestle tables. He looked at her thoughtfully while he hefted the volume of fairy tales.
“Did you know they’d enjoy it so much?”
“I suspected.” She paused, and pushed her hair out of her face with impatient hands. “They’ve got so little to occupy their minds during these storms, that’s why they plan such elaborate forfeitures. Everyone needs some entertainment.”
“But fairy tales?”
“Is it really any different from the tall tales that Connelly spins? They’re just stories, after all.”
“And I suppose it’s only coincidence that it’s just what a father would read to his children? You weren’t, by any chance, trying to trick me into following your advice?”
“I don’t know to what you could possibly be referring.” She winked, then spoke in mock seriousness. “What do you think of the hall?”
“It’s beautiful.”
Vivienne gazed around the great hall. It was beautiful, with the green needles and red berries accenting the stonework. Connelly had been enlisted to show her how to make the beeswax candles, and honestly, dipping and re-dipping the many tapers had been a long and tedious process, but it would be worth it when the hall was bright and cheerful until every light was extinguished at midnight.
“Well, then my work here is done. John?” she called to her faithful guard, “Are you ready to retire?” At his enthusiastic nod, she smiled, and then cast a final, arch look at Fain. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The candles flickered cheerily on the long trestle tables, as the Shapherds and a few conscripted helpers brought the food from the kitchens. A large hunt, sent out during a break in the storms, had managed to bring back several deer, and one of them was the main course at the feast. There were roasted roots and mashed tubers, not to mention many enormous squash pies. Vivienne hadn’t been allowed to touch the food, of course, but she’d been consulted on the menu, and was highly satisfied with the results.
A cask of mead, made the previous summer when wild honey was available, was breached and shared around. A few of the braver men had also experimented with the rotgut, infusing it with juniper berries and a few other spices that Connelly had suggested, and as a result it was vaguely palatable. When Sean Kelly offered her a small glass of “Juniper Juice” with a challenging wink, Vivi screwed up her courage and took a sip.
“Well, Mistress?”
“I have to say, it isn’t my favorite flavor. But I don’t have the urge to scrape my tongue with wool, so it’s a definite improvement. “
With that rousing endorsement, and owing to the fact that the supply of Juniper Juice was far greater than that of the mead, it became the drink of choice for the evening. Everyone agreed that the more of it you drank, the better it tasted, so the only real solution was to drink the first glass quickly, and then proceed on from there.
By the time the feast had been cleared away, the entire keep was in a celebratory mood. Vivienne had found a number of men who played pipes, whistles, and drums, and had organized a small group to provide some music after dinner. The trestle tables were pushed back to the wall, and a few intrepid souls began jigging in the open space. After much coaxing, Vivienne managed to convince Matt Shapherd to take the floor with her, where she quickly taught him the basic step for a redowa. Soon they were flying around the floor, stumbling, laughing, and only occasionally bowling over other people.
When Matt paused to catch his breath, Connor took his place, and Vivi was off again. From the corner of her eye she saw Alan bow gravely to Eric Tully, and the two men took to the floor together. Before long everyone was dancing, even those who had been unable to figure out the two-step rhythm just from watching. Every time Vivienne’s current partner would relinquish her, another was waiting to take his place. She galloped across the floor with heedless disregard for her dignity or the peril to her toes. Finally Connelly stepped up to take a turn.
“Ready, lass?”
“Ready for what?”
She hardly had time to cock an eyebrow before she found out. Connelly grabbed her round the waist and took off across the floor, twice as fast as her other partners and with more spins and whirls than a waltz. All Vivi could do was hold on and try to keep up. The other men backed off the floor and watched as their respected medic danced like a dervish, pulling Vivienne along in his wake. Finally he tossed her up in the air like they were dancing a brantle and caught her again, spinning her free and letting her stagger to a halt.
Right in front of Fain MacTíre.
While Connelly took a number of bows to the applause of the men, Vivienne ignored it all. She had been keenly aware that there was at least one man in this ha
ll that had not yet asked her to dance, and now she was gazing up at him, wondering if he would. One of the pipes rose in a slow, melancholy air, and Fain reached out and took her hand.
“I never have gotten the hang of the faster dances, but this, I believe, I can manage. May I have the honor?”
Vivi just nodded, uncertain that her suddenly dry mouth would produce any words.
They glided out across the floor, rotating through the steps of a graceful waltz. Vivienne was distantly aware that many of the men had cleared the floor and were watching them, but she kept her eyes on Fain. He’d taken some pains with his appearance tonight, tying his long hair back in a thong and shaving carefully. She enjoyed having the chance to gaze at him, but feared too many of her emotions were plain to see. When she tore her eyes away from his face, the whirling background made her dizzy, and she lost a step in the dance. Fain slid his arm farther around her back and steadied her, slowing their rotation.
“Too much Juniper Juice?”
“Perhaps.” She focused back on his face. “Tell me, are you enjoying the celebration?”
“Very much.” His eyes were warm and glowing, and Vivienne felt her heart beat faster. “You look lovely this evening.”
Vivienne had twisted a few strands of hair up with some sprigs of holly, but otherwise left it flowing down her back. She wore Marlplot’s largest shirt, and had borrowed a narrow leather belt from Connor, cinching it tight beneath her breasts to create an empire waist, and yet another pair of leather breeches beneath it. She’d felt like a little girl playing dress-up, but now, under Fain’s approving regard, she blushed.
“Careful, Master MacTíre, or I shall begin to think you like me.”
“What a dreadful calamity that would be.” He spun her out across the floor, then drew her back in close, spreading his large hand across the small of her back. “After all, I can’t possibly like you. It wouldn’t be sensible.”
“Perhaps you’ve had too much Juniper Juice.”
“It’s always a possibility. Speaking of which...” The music drew to a close, and he pulled her across the floor to where the flasks were circulating. “A toast!” He handed several glasses around, while other men did the same. When they all had a drink in their hands, he turned Vivienne around to face the men. “To the new year, and the coming spring. May we, and all of our loved ones, be safe and happy.” A solemn silence fell in the hall, as each man raised his glass and murmured “safe and happy” before downing the contents.
Vivienne merely brushed her drink with her lips; she feared Fain was right, and she had already had more than she should, but he noticed.
“Ah, you can’t fail to toast, Belle. Otherwise someone might think you didn’t wish us safe and happy.” Fain’s mouth was practically touching her ear, and she shivered a little, but made herself reply tartly.
“They’d be wiser to think I don’t want to be foxed. However,” she gave a great, exaggerated sigh, “if I must...” And with that she tossed back the contents of her glass.
“Presents!” Fain roared out across the room, and the cry was taken up by the men. They began shuffling around, pulling small items from their pockets, and larger things from where they’d been left in the corners of the room. Once everyone was holding some funny, or clever, or exceedingly useful item, they all began frantically stealing from one another, playing an exaggerated and highly athletic version of Parcel Pass. Vivienne scrambled up on a bench and out of the way, partially to have a better view, and partially to protect her still-tender arm. Fain maneuvered to stand in front of her, and together they watched a fierce scuffle over a packet of maple candies. Both cheered heartily when Billy Notter, relying on his small size and greater agility, dashed off with the prize.
“By the way,” Vivienne said, once the brawl moved farther away and her voice could be heard. “I have a present for you.”
“Really? It isn’t a lump of coal, is it? Or a swift kick in the—”
“Actually,” Vivi broke in, “it’s quite nice. But if you’d rather not have it...”
“Oh no.” Fain turned and grinned at her. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Fain was perplexed when he opened the small package Belle presented to him. He had assumed that she, like many of the men, had made a gift. He’d even entertained the wild idea that she planned to give him a kiss to welcome in the new year. He’d rather been hoping for it, if he were honest; the Juniper Juice must be getting to him. He’d never imagined...
“A book?”
“It’s a translation of Hellene tales. I thought you might like it, since you collect fairy stories. There’s one in particular, about twin boys who are raised by wolves...” Fain stared at her as she trailed off, looking uncertain. “I’m sorry, you don’t like it, I’ll—” She tried to take it back. “I’ll get you something else.”
“No, Belle, don’t.” He held the book away from her. “I do like it. I’m just surprised. Where did you get it?”
“I asked Connelly if he could get a copy. You know, from his contact.” She glanced away, and Fain got the impression she was hiding something. Did she know who Connelly’s contact was?
“He never lets me ask for things through his tea vendor.” Fain pretended to be hurt.
“Well, you obviously lack my charm. Either that or I’m more skilled at bribery than you are.” Vivi smiled, but she still looked worried. “So, you like it?”
“I do.” At her relieved smile Fain’s heart thudded, and he couldn’t pretend it was from the Juniper Juice. Despite his resolve to keep her at a distance, Belle had wormed her way inside him. If he had to rip her out, this lass with her teasing facade and her soft heart, he was going to lose a large part of himself in the process.
He brushed one of her cheeks with the back of his finger. Blood rose to the surface in its wake, as though he were painting a blush on her face, and when he met her eyes they sparkled like gemstones. For a brief moment she closed her eyes and leaned into his hand. Then she pulled away and smiled impishly.
“Well, I’m glad. I’d hate to think I made that bargain with Connelly for nothing.”
“What did you promise him, anyway?”
“He wants help coming up with new spice combinations with which to flavor the rotgut.”
“Making suggestions doesn’t seem so horrible.”
“Oh no, he’s got ideas of his own. He wants a taster.”
Belle twisted her face up into a horrible grimace, and Fain laughed. Handing her a fresh glass of Juniper Juice, he raised one of his own.
“A toast, then, to hopefully burning out your palate before Connelly’s brews are ready.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
They tossed back the drinks, and then Fain caught up Belle’s hand.
“Come on. I’ve a gift for you, as well.”
She followed him out of the great hall and through the keep, albeit somewhat unsteadily.
“Fain,” she spoke carefully, “I think I may have had...” She paused and concentrated hard. “One too many.”
“Do you need to sit down?”
“No, I just... I just...” She stopped speaking and spun in a circle, coming to a halt facing Fain. “They’re back.”
“What’s back?”
“The sparkles.” Belle gave a giggle, ending with a hiccup.
“You’re foxed.”
“Oh no. I mean, oh yes, I am absolutely, really, terribly, dreadfully foxed. But they really are. Back. The sparkles, I mean.”
“I’m sure they are.” He stopped at the outer door and helped her put on her mittens and a wrap, then continued leading her to the stables. “Doing anything interesting, this time?”
“Do not mock me, sir.” Her voice was full of grave dignity, which would have been much more impressive if she hadn’t tripped on the doorsill. “I am not seeing things. I mean, I am. But they are things. Not not-things.” She giggled again. “Not-not-things. I must say, the not-not-things just dance about you in the most fascinating
ways. There’s one going here—” and she followed a trail with her finger that swooped from the center of his chest, out in a spiral, and back again.
“Belle?”
“Hmmm?” She stopped tracing the sparkle trails and looked at him.
“Have you noticed anything?”
“You mean besides sparkles?”
“Yes, besides that.”
“We’re in the stables.”
“Indeed we are.”
“And it’s cold.”
“Not quite what I was looking for, but I’m glad you’re paying attention now.”
“Oh look, that sparkle shot straight off over...” She gasped with delight. “Idiot!”
“What?” But Belle didn’t hear him. She was dashing over to the stall that housed a beautiful snow-white palfry.
“You found her! Wherever did you find her? I thought she had run home or been eaten by Grey Tip.” She cast a petulant glance over her shoulder. “Of course, I tried not to think he had eaten her, but it couldn’t help but cross my mind.”
“Belle?”
“What?”
“What is your horse’s name?”
“Darling Idiot,” she answered absently.
“Of course it is.” He shook his head. “Well, to answer your question, we found her during the last hunt, the one that brought in the deer for the feast. The wolves picked up her scent and I tracked her down.” He looked at the animal in question. She was currently blowing whuffs of air into Belle’s face while nuzzling her gently. “I have no idea where she’s been all this time, but she seems hail and hearty, except for the deplorable state of her tail and mane. Apparently someone,” he cast a hard look at the oblivious lass, “braided them with purple ribbons.”
Belle whirled around, looking thunderstruck. “Did she still have her saddlebags?”
“Yes, they’re racked on the wall behind you.” He’d hardly finished speaking before she was rummaging through them. Momentarily she emerged, triumphant.
“My hairbrush!”
As the Last Petal Falls Page 16
