Claire Delacroix (14 page)

Barb looked ruefully in the direction of the little cluster of iris leaves, hoping that the plant had made a miraculous recovery in the face of adversity. That was something she was going to have to do with the shop and she could use a mascot.

But the plant wasn’t any better. And how could it be? There was a great big blond guy peeing on it!

Barb was out the door in a flash, scooping up a loose sneaker on her way. “Hey!” she bellowed, not caring about he early hour or the sleeping habits of her neighbors. “Hey, you! What do you think you’re doing?”

The man seemed intent on finishing what he had begun. His head moved slightly, but he didn’t turn, the yellow stream running unrestrained on the defenseless iris.

Well, it wasn’t completely defenseless. Barb chucked her shoe at the guy’s head and hit him squarely in the back of the neck. He jumped in a most satisfactory manner and the stream was momentarily dammed.

Ha! Barb bunched up her bathrobe in both hands and marched across the wet grass to do battle.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she raged. “It’s bad enough that I have to pick up after everyone’s cats, but I will not tolerate human waste in my garden!”

The man turned, his manner that of a monarch acknowledging the lowest serf of his realm. He glanced skeptically across the weed-infested stretch of greenery that some – specifically Barb – generously called a lawn.

“Nay, this can be no garden,” he said evenly.

Barb’s eyes widened when she saw that he was only wearing a T-shirt. She didn’t want to look, but it was hard not to notice exactly where the hem ended.

And what was right below.

Even looking past
that
didn’t help when the guy had the legs of a gladiator. He propped his hands on his hips, his move mercifully driving Barb’s gaze upward, and she felt relieved only when she met the keen green of his eyes.

There was a hunk pissing in her yard.

Barb felt suddenly very withered. It had been a while since she had had – or even wanted – a man in her bed, but the sight of pure beefcake half-naked, up close and personal, awakened a few forgotten urges.

Unwelcome urges, to boot.

Barb folded her arms across her chest and glared at the intruder, doing her best impression of a woman unaffected by his actor looks. “It
is
a garden. It’s my garden and you’re pissing on the only flower in it.”

He looked back at the iris, which didn’t make much of a proud showing. “
This
would be a flower you hold in esteem?” he asked with a point of one finger.

Barb lifted her chin and changed tacks, figuring that a good offense was better than a poor defense. “Haven’t you ever heard of a toilet? Or are you one of those biker-hiker kids who crashed drunk on the beach?”

He didn’t look like much of a kid, but then, lots of men never passed the intellectual age of two.

Barb glanced at those legs again without intending to do so.

But most got stuck at sixteen.

She shook a finger at him. “If you think you can sleep outside, then come hang around her, using my garden as a toilet, then hoping for a meal like all those other eco-tourist bums, you’ve got another think coming.”

“I did not slumber outside.” His gaze strayed to the second story of the house – the room over the shop – and Barb suddenly had a very good idea where he had crashed.

The accent should have given her a clue.

“Don’t tell me.” She held up a hand. “You’re a friend of Viviane’s.”

His gaze met hers once again. “’Twas Viviane who welcomed me to her bed last eve.”

Oh boy. That was more information than she needed.

“Well, there’s a toilet up there and I’d appreciate your using it,” Barb snapped. “However long you’re staying.” She turned and strode back to the door, glancing back to find that he had picked up her shoe. He was looking at it as though it was an enchanted slipper or something, instead of just a plain worn red Ked. “And you can tell Viviane that the rent’s for one, not two. If you’re staying, then we’ll have to talk.”

His expression turned grim. “That should not be a consideration. I do not intend to linger long.”

Well, wasn’t that typical? They really were all the same. Barb contented herself with a shrug and retreated to her chaste kitchen where the kettle was whistling merrily away.

For the first time since she had bought this place, the floral wallpaper border annoyed her. It made the room look so exclusively feminine, as though it would tattle to anyone who listened that no man had ever crossed its threshold.

Which was exactly how Barb wanted her life to be. She mutinously poured a steaming mug of tea and sipped it so quickly that she burned her tongue.

She stiffened when she heard the back door open and knew that the half-naked man was coming into her house. He was going to chase her into her kitchen, Barb just knew it, and she could make a pretty good guess of what would happen after that.

Or what he would try to make happen. Oh, it had been a long time since she’d had the chance to set a man straight about how irresistible he supposedly was, and she’d thought of a lot more compelling arguments since that last one.

She braced herself and turned, a warrior princess at the ready for anything at all.

Except for what did happen. The clear sound of a shoe dropping onto the mat echoed through the little hall. The door closed with a resolute click and Naked Man’s footsteps faded away. The faint creak of Viviane’s separate entrance opening, then closing again, was barely audible beneath the whisper of the rain.

Barb leaned against the counter one more time, sipping Lemon Zinger that wasn’t quite steeped without even tasting as much. She couldn’t be feeling disappointed. The last thing she wanted was a guy, particularly one who had been with Viviane just the night before.

No, what she felt was a
yearning
, a sense of incompleteness that she’d been ignoring for a long time. She stared through the rain-streaked window at the swordlike leaves of the iris and felt a sudden sympathy for it. They were both vulnerable – lonely, wounded, but making a good show of doing just fine.

Barb frowned and decided she just hadn’t had enough sleep.

And that was mucking with her mind. By Goddess, she was happy here and that was all there was to it. She’d made her choices and hoed her own row, and she’d be damned to hell and back before she admitted that there was a single thing wrong with the life she’d chosen.

Barb put her mug down with a thump. She gave herself a shake and strode to her own bathroom. What she needed was a good hot shower, and some revenue rolling in the door.

She certainly wasn’t going to think about what kind of rolling was going on in her rental until right now. Now way, no how.

She’d much rather think about Payables.

* * *

Chapter Seven

Viviane awakened with a smile. She snuggled deeper into the sheets, taking an intoxicatingly deep breath of Niall’s scent lingering there and sighed contentment. Her knight had come, he was more than even she had dreamed he would be and everything was going to work out beautifully.

Her smile broadened in recollection of Niall’s gentle touch, the way he leaned over her, the way his eyes darkened as he gave her pleasure, and she shivered with delight. She had never guessed she could feel that way, but her knight had given her the gift of it.

Everything was just perfect.

Well, not quite everything. Viviane reached one hand across the mattress and found herself alone.

Her eyes flew open, but Niall was nowhere in sight. Viviane sat up and pushed her hair back, wondering where he could have gone.

And why. Surely he wasn’t gone, surely she hadn’t just dreamed him up? Her imagination could get away from her, that was for sure, and Viviane nibbled her lip in consternation.

Then she saw the shorts Derek had loaned to Niall, crumpled in a pile on the floor. She sighed with relief, knowing he couldn’t be far. Maybe he was going to bring her a surprise. Maybe he was going to come back to bed and seduce her all day long.

Maybe he hadn’t expected her to awaken so soon. Viviane smiled and hugged her knees in anticipation.

But nothing happened.

She listened, but Niall wasn’t in the bathroom. Hers wasn’t a room filled with secretive corners and she could see it all from here. Niall wasn’t present. The house was quiet, so Viviane rolled out of bed. She folded her arms across her nakedness and peered out the window.

No sign of him.

Viviane was just going to look for a note when heavy footfalls sounded on the stairs. Niall! She spun with delight just as the man of her dreams entered the room.

“Niall, you’re back!” Viviane danced across the room and cast her arms around his neck. “Good morning,” she purred, walking her fingertips up the damp expanse of his shirt. “Did you sleep well?” And she tipped her head back to meet his gaze, fully expecting another soul-stirring kiss.

But Niall wore a pensive frown. His gaze flicked over her, even as Viviane smiled, and his arms did not close protectively around her. She might have been embracing a statue. Viviane stepped back, uncertain what was wrong and watched as he scanned the room. It was almost as though he was avoiding looking at her.

He was shy! The realization almost made her laugh out loud. How could this bold knight be shy after what they had shared?

Maybe he was afraid she hadn’t been pleased. Wouldn’t that be just like the hero she knew Niall to be?

Well, Viviane would ease that doubt from his mind. She ran her hand over his shoulder and smiled. Niall looked into her eyes, swallowed, then looked away.

Her heart clenched that he should be unsure of his talents - and too shy to ask. She pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “I have to thank you, I’ve never woken up that way before. It was absolutely wonderful,” she breathed.

He didn’t say anything, though his breathing quickened and Viviane hoped she was making progress. She stretched to her toes and brushed her lips across his, noting how Niall closed his eyes. His hands had clenched into fists and there was a dull red rising on the back of his neck.

Well, this was working! Viviane could feel the tension building within him and knew she was getting somewhere. She ran a fingertip playfully around his ear, loving how he shivered, and knew she had to please him as he had pleased her.

She wasn’t exactly sure how to do that, but Viviane had no doubt that they’d sort it out. They were destined lovers, after all.

“Won’t you come back to bed?”

“Nay!” The word exploded from Niall and he flung himself away from her. He paced to the window, his agitation obvious, then folded his hands behind his back. He didn’t turn to face her, though his hands worked, opening and closing into fists.

Viviane bit her lip. Had something horrible happened this morning?

Oh, he had been out! This Avalon could be a perplexing place, Viviane knew from her own experience, and there was no telling who or what Niall might have encountered this morning.

Just as she knew that Niall was not the kind of man who would volunteer any story.

She’d just have to work it out of him.

“I wondered where you had gone.” Viviane kept her voice as toneless as possible, hoping he would confide in her.

“Even a dog does not soil his bed,” Niall said grimly and glared out into the rain as though he was angry with it.

Viviane realized then that he was wet and that he had only troubled to put on his shirt. She bit back her laughter in sudden understanding, doubting that he would appreciate her amusement.

But it was funny that he had gone out into the rain to relieve himself, unaware of the washroom - or its purpose - so warm and dry and close at hand.

That would start anyone’s day off wrong! Viviane stepped closer and ran her hands over Niall’s shoulders, massaging the knot of tension in the back of his neck.

“You didn’t really need to go outside, although there’s no way you could have known.” She kissed his shoulder blade, surprised when Niall stiffened. “They have indoor facilities here that are truly a marvel. You can relieve yourself and wash and groom, without ever leaving the chamber.”

His quick glance was somewhat less than romantic, his words even less so. “I am told I must use the toilet. What and where is this?”

Oh, nature called for the second act. Well, that explained
everything
!

And once such details were resolved and Niall was feeling his usual self again, maybe they could have a nice long shower together and pick up where they left off. Maybe then, he’d get that intent gleam in his eye, maybe then he’d really
look
at her again.

That was a tempting enough possibility to re-establish Viviane’s cheerfulness. “A toilet is what they call a privy here,” she explained, claiming his hand. Niall extricated his hand quickly, though he followed behind her.

Viviane tried not to read too much into his gesture, knowing that he had something on his mind.

He grimaced. “And ’tis inside the chamber?”

“It’s in its own chamber, in the washroom over here, which is a room for washing and for doing other things as well. There’s a wonderful looking glass which could only be magically wrought, it’s so very clear. I try not to look into it too much, for my mother always said that there were pixies lurking in looking glasses, waiting to snare those who stared too long.”

She cast a smile over her shoulder at Niall from the threshold of the washroom and his gaze flicked downward. A reassuring heat dawned in those green eyes when his gaze fell on her bare breasts. His determined expression softened slightly, and Viviane’s heart skipped a beat.

But then Niall’s gaze rose to her pendant and his eyes narrowed. He straightened and once again looked grim and cold.

Viviane raised one hand to her pendant, wondering why he was looking at it that way. “Would you rather I took it off?” she asked hastily. “I can put it away.”

Niall’s eyes flashed. “Nay! You must wear it at all times!”

Viviane must have looked surprised at his vehemence, for Niall took a deep breath and pushed one hand through his hair. His words sounded strained when he spoke. “’Twas a gift from your parents, after all.”