Claire Delacroix (23 page)

Niall was lost and did not want to be found.

They moved together in that ageless dance, temple to temple, whispering incoherently to each other and gasping in turn. The heat was easily conjured between them once more, the lady’s embers stoked to a flame. Niall moved his hips to caress the lady, savoring her moans and fleeting smiles. Already he could read her response, as though they had been together countless times, already he could feel her proximity to release.

This time, they would share the pleasure.

Niall slipped his hand between them, his thumb landing upon Viviane with a persuasiveness that made her cry out. She sat up and strained for the sky, a vision of silvered femininity high above him, her knees digging into his waist as they rocked together.

She suddenly threw her head back and moaned, the secret heat of her clutched him with a surety that made Niall bellow in turn. For one electric moment, their gazes held, the world stopped and there was naught but the explosion of pleasure between them.

Then Viviane collapsed atop him and Niall caught her close, rolling against the tangled lines. Their bodies were spent but he was loathe to release even a fraction of her touch.

Even when he felt her drift into slumber once more.

Niall leaned back and closed his eyes as he nestled Viviane more tightly against his side. His thumb stroked the softness of her shoulder, marveling at what they had shared, as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Chapter Eleven

Viviane awakened the next morning to find sunlight slanted across the floor and birds chirping outside the window. And everything was right with the world, because the heat of her knight was right beside her.

She was tingling right to her toes and lazily satisfied in a way she had never imagined possible. Her mother had been right to insist that it was worth waiting for the right man to savor the pleasures of love.

And now that she had found her knight, Viviane was ready to savor some more.

Viviane propped herself up on one elbow to survey Niall, delighted to find him not only awake but watching her. She smiled at him and to her pleasure, a crooked smile eased across his firm lips.

“You should do that more often,” she teased, unable to resist the temptation to trace the curve with her fingertip. Niall captured her finger and kissed it, his intent gaze holding hers as he slid his teeth across its tip.

“Do what?”

“Smile. It makes you look less forbidding.” Viviane wrinkled her nose. “As though you’re actually happy about something.”

Niall chuckled and rolled her to her back, meshing his fingers with hers and stretching her arms over her head as he loomed over her. He braced his weight on his elbows, the move bringing them breathtakingly breast to chest as he slowly smiled. Viviane could feel his erection against her thigh and her heart skipped a beat at the dark hue of Niall’s eyes.

She knew what he had in mind.

And she had no objections.

He bent and nibbled on her earlobe, his breath making her shiver. “Aye? And what would I have to be happy about this morn?” he teased, then flicked his tongue against her earlobe.

She caught her breath, then rolled him to his back, echoing his gesture and liking how his eyes twinkled. He let her push him around and Viviane knew it, but still she was enjoying herself.

“I never knew lovemaking was so marvelous,” she whispered, wrinkling her nose with delight. “Or is it just that you are so skilled in the amorous arts?” She bent and slid her tongue across Niall’s nipple, liking how he shivered.

The man in question snorted amiably as he freed his hands, his thumb moving to slide across the small of her back. The lazy caress made Viviane feel warm and shivery at the same time, the warm weight of his hand made her feel delightfully feminine.

“Not I,” he rumbled, then smiled at her. His dark blond hair was tousled, his emerald eyes gleamed with a sensuality that made her want to blush scarlet. He reached up and pushed a hand through her hair, the warmth of his hand cradling her cheek. He smiled up at her and rubbed his thumb across her temple.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low with admiration, and Viviane felt cherished.

She folded her hands atop his chest and dropped her chin to rest upon them, hardly able to believe that her knight truly had come. Even though he was right here beside her. Niall stared back at her, the sight of his mingled appreciation and awe making Viviane want to laugh aloud.

Oh, she had lucked out again.

She traced a pattern amidst the hair on his chest with a playful fingertip. “You must have dozens of women clamoring for your touch,” she teased, then sighed contentment. “Hundreds of ladies intent on winning the favors of Sir Niall of Malloy.”

Niall snorted again, the image of masculine skepticism. “Hardly that.”

Viviane tilted her head to consider him. “Why not? You certainly seem to have a talent for...”

“I do not couple frequently with women,” he interrupted sharply and looked away.

Oh, he was embarrassed! Viviane warmed to this man who was so determined to not trumpet his desirability.

“Well, I can’t imagine why not. You certainly have a skill for it.” Viviane brushed a fleeting kiss across his flesh. “Not that it’s a surprise or anything - I knew the first moment we met that you would know how to thoroughly please a woman. In fact -” she tapped a fingertip on his shoulder “- I wondered even in that dungeon what it would be like to kiss you.”

Niall’s gaze flicked to hers, then away. His golden brows drew together and his lips tightened, his thumb stopped its lazy caress.

Though he still lay beside her, it felt as though he were a thousand miles away.

“A knight in shining armor,” she teased, but Niall’s frown deepened.

“Viviane, I am not the man you think me to be,” he said sternly and looked away.

“No, you are much less dour than you would have me believe,” she jested, kissing the tip of his nose.

Niall’s gaze locked suddenly with hers, no playfulness in his expression. “Nay, I am not the knight you believe me to be. ’Tis time we had the truth between us.”

“What do you mean? You’re a knight. Anyone can see that.” Viviane snuggled closer. “And you’re my knight, I can see that.”

Niall shook his head. “Nay, I am a knight in name alone, but not in role.”

Viviane frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Niall sighed. “I am a knight in name alone, for I have earned my spurs and none can take them from me.” His lips thinned. “But I do not ride as a knight any longer. ’Tis not mine to defend my patron or his holdings, ’tis not mine to quest and conquer, ’tis not mine to ride to battle.”

There was a wistfulness in his tone that made Viviane nestle closer. “Why not?”

He shrugged as though the tale didn’t matter but Viviane knew better. “’Tis not a tale worth telling.”

Viviane reached out a fingertip to touch his jaw, gently compelling him to look to her again. The shadows in his eyes wrenched her heart. “Tell me,” she urged softly. “It’s a tale I would like to hear.”

“You would hear of my failure?”

“I would hear everything about you.” As he watched, clearly incredulous, Viviane stretched to kiss him. Far from a gentle reassurance, the kiss immediately became incendiary, that heat rising quickly between them. Niall opened his mouth to her and bracketed her waist with his hands. He pulled her closer, then rolled atop her once more, his lips both demanding and pleasing. His knee was between her thighs, their limbs entangled, and their breathing ragged when he lifted his head.

“You are a marvel,” he murmured, tracing the line of her jaw with one fingertip. His touch made circles on her skin as he frowned in thought, then his gaze flicked to hers. “Indeed, you make me recall those days before my shame.”

Viviane looped her arms around his neck. “What shame could you have?”

Niall grimaced and rolled to his back once more. His tone was flat. “I was bested in a tournament before the archbishop three years past. ’Twas my role to defend his cause, for he had chosen me to carry his colors against the champion of his neighbor and rival. All of Cantlecroft gathered for the match and though ’twas in sport, there was an element of truth riding on the outcome. ’Twas a telling responsibility and a trust I dared not disappoint.”

Viviane had a good idea where this story was going. “What happened?” she asked when Niall fell grimly silent.

“I rode out, ceremony and fine trappings on every side. We met on a field chosen between the two holdings, the perimeter tight with tents of nobles. Every peasant within walking distance was there, every merchant walked his eligible daughter through the throng. ’Twas a spectacle such as few have the chance to witness - and my match with this champion was the highlight of the fete.”

“’Twas there I showed myself no champion of repute.”

“Of course you are!” Viviane cried.

“Nay, Viviane. I failed my patron. I miscalculated the intent of my opponent on the seventh course. He swerved his steed and collided with mine, unhorsing me, wounding both beasts and crushing my knee.”

“But you must have been wearing armor!”

He flicked her a wry glance. “Do you know the weight of a destrier? The beast was running at full gallop and fully armed as well. He struck mine so hard that both beasts broke a rib, and my knee had the misfortune to be trapped between.”

“That’s horrible!”

“Aye, I was quickly defeated after that and the archbishop was mightily displeased.”

“But your knee?”

“Healed after a fashion, thanks to the aid of a sympathetic physician. The steeds did not fare so well - - and neither did my repute.” He stretched out his leg and the joint creaked. “The rain worsens its complaints and it does not suffer me to ride overmuch these days. Nay, Viviane, I am a knight no longer.”

Viviane exhaled in sudden understanding. “So, that was why you were a sentry in the archbishop’s dungeons!”

“Aye.”

She sat up, nodding her understanding. “I just knew it couldn’t be an easy labor for you. You were intended to ride on quests, to right wrongs and to save damsels in distress. You’re not the kind of man to march people to their deaths and I knew it, right from the moment we met...”

She leaned forward to give him a hearty kiss, certain her endorsement would improve his spirits, but Niall abruptly swung out of bed.

It must be that his injured knee needed a stretch, Viviane concluded, for he limped as he crossed the room. He shoved a hand through his hair with impatience and his expression was forbidding when he turned.

Oh, horrible feelings had been dredged up by that memory, Viviane could see. She was doubly honored that Niall had shared it with her.

The books were right - communication between them was key.

“What did you think of
me
, there in the archbishop’s dungeons?” She smiled brightly, hoping to lighten the tone of the conversation. “I have to say that I didn’t spend a very comfortable night there and I couldn’t have been looking my best...”

Niall looked up suddenly at that, his expression agitated. “Viviane, ’tis time I confess to you...” he began, his tone purposeful.

But then, his eyes abruptly widened and his words halted. Niall stared at her, then at the floor as though disbelieving what was before his own eyes. Viviane followed his glance, catching her own breath at the telltale bright red drop.

Oops.

She noted her own virginal blood smeared across Niall’s flesh in the same moment that he discovered it. He touched himself and inhaled sharply, then his eyes flashed.

Viviane blushed and dropped her gaze, her rush of maidenly shyness a little late to be much help.

“You are a virgin?” he demanded.

Perhaps she had not done so badly with lovemaking as she feared. Any pleasure Viviane might have felt at the implied compliment, though, was quickly shattered by Niall’s evident horror.

She shrugged self-consciously, pulling the linens higher over herself as she tried to smile. “Well, not any more.”

Her attempt at humor fell flat.

Niall flung out a hand as he took a step closer. “How could you not have told me the truth?”

“You didn’t stop to ask!” Viviane pushed the weight of her hair back from her cheek and lifted her chin proudly.

“You should have told me!” Niall thundered.

“If it mattered that much, you should have asked!”

Niall muttered something that Viviane was quite glad she couldn’t quite overhear. “This changes all!” he declared with evident frustration. “Zounds, but what is a man to do?” He paced the room with new vigor, not looking nearly as pleased as he had just a few minutes before.

If Niall had chased her to Avalon to return her pendant, using it as an excuse to see her again, if he was really her one true love and they were destined to be together, then what did her virginity matter?

Viviane straightened, unable to shake a portent of dread. “What do you mean?” she asked carefully. “What does it change?”

Niall shoved a hand through his hair and paced the width of the room one more time. When he pivoted suddenly to face her, Viviane had a distinct sense that he had made a decision.

And judging by his dour expression, it wasn’t one he liked.

“We shall have to be wed,” he declared flatly. “This very day. There is naught else for it, though indeed the repercussions may be dire.”

It wasn’t what she had expected him to say, and certainly not the way Viviane had ever expected the man of her dreams to propose to her. In fact, Niall looked as though he were doing something particularly distasteful, and that he was doing it only because he didn’t have a choice.

“What?” Viviane croaked, certain she must have misunderstood.

“We shall be wed,” Niall affirmed, then nodded briskly as though all was resolved. “There is no choice.”

Viviane gasped at the lack of romance in his attitude. This wasn’t how he was supposed to ask for her hand. “You’re asking me because you have no choice?”

“Clearly.” Niall frowned as he thought. “Surely there is a priest to be found in this place? No doubt the press of coins in his palm will see the matter resolved before midday.”