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, and 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 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 he was wet and he had only troubled to put on his shirt. She bit back her laughter in sudden understanding, doubting 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 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 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.”
Viviane smiled. He was so determined to not take credit for the generosity of what he had done. “And one that you returned to me.” She kissed his cheek, a little disappointed when he didn’t even incline his head to touch his lips to hers.
“You should garb yourself,” he growled. “There is a chill in the air this day.”
And he pushed past her into the small room.
Viviane’s shoulders sagged for only an instant. He was a man with a mission, that’s what he was. She shouldn’t be disappointed. No, he was just being protective of her. It was cold in here, but Viviane didn’t plan to linger around naked for long.
She was looking forward to that shower.
Maybe he was still feeling uncertain. Barb was always saying men were unbelievably dense about such things, which Viviane understood to mean that they missed subtlety.
She discarded subtlety, right then and there, and followed Niall into the tiny room. She pressed herself against his back and smiled to herself when he caught his breath. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her hips against his buttocks, running one toe over his foot and up his leg.
“Viviane!” Niall whispered, his voice wonderfully strained.
Viviane decided subtlety was over-rated. She flattened her hands and ran them over his chest, closing her eyes as the thick pelt of hair ran through her fingers. She felt the outline of each rib, she inhaled deeply of his scent, she felt her own desire stir once more.
“I think we should return to bed,” she whispered. “I think I should touch you the way you have touched me, I think we should spend this morning learning all there is to know of each other.”
But when Viviane looked past his shoulder into the mirror, fully expecting to have the man’s avid attention, Niall was frowning at the sink basin as though it was personally offensive. He didn’t even glance up at her reflection, his lips were drawn tight, and he stood as taut as a bowstring.
“This is no garderobe,” he said tersely, reminding her that he had other priorities. “There is no course of water, no means of disposal…”
First things first.
“Yes, it is! You see?” Viviane reached around his waist and turned on the taps with a triumphant flick of her wrist. Niall features brightened and he hunkered down before the taps, moving easily away from her and stepping out of her embrace as though he was unaware of it.
Her presence was apparently forgotten and Viviane didn’t welcome the change.
It was absolutely no consolation to recall that she had spent half a day herself playing with the taps when she first arrived. Theirs was a fearsome magic—yet one that in a mere month, she had come to take for granted.
Viviane folded her arms across her chest, a very feminine part of her not liking being upstaged by plumbing, however marvelous it might be.
Niall tried to peer up the spout. “From whence does the water come?”
So, he hadn’t completely forgotten her! “It’s conjured up by magic.”
Niall cast her one of those skeptical glances she was starting to associate with him. “Magic,” he muttered, then snorted, his attention on the taps again.
Viviane waited, but Niall might as well have been alone, for all the attention he was going to give her. Clearly, she was going to be part of this discovery only if she explained things.
Well, she could do that. Viviane stepped forward, summoning her best smile, and put herself firmly between Niall and the current object of his fascination.
“You see, you just turn these knobs. On and off, hot and cold. This one plugs the hole—see? You just pull it up and down and it holds the water as long as you like. There’s the most wonderful soap right here”—she passed it under his nose for him to smell—“and behind the looking glass—you’ll never believe this!—there’s a secret cavern.”
She opened it with a gesture. “It opens with only the merest touch of the fingertips. Obviously, it’s there for offerings for the pixie of the looking glass. She doesn’t seem to be interested in my offerings, though.” Viviane removed the wilted flower left there a few days before, as well as the piece of chocolate she had been so sure the pixie would like. She frowned. “Maybe it’s a boy pixie, or maybe what I leave there isn’t good enough for an offering. What do you think?”
But Niall’s eyes narrowed as he leaned closer to the taps. He was busy, turning the water on and off, on and off, his attention fixed on the changing flow. He played with the plug, he peered up the spout, he watched the basin fill and the water spill through the overflow.
Viviane waved the piece of chocolate at him, just to get his attention, but Niall ignored her. Her shoulders slumped as she wondered whether he had heard anything she had said.
And then she wondered what she could have done to have so lost his attention. If only her mother had told her more about things between women and men, this would have been a lot easier. Viviane wondered whether there was something she should have done this morning to please Niall, and hated that she didn’t know the answer.
Just when Viviane thought the taps couldn’t occupy him any longer, he opened the little cabinet beneath the sink.
“Aha!” Niall murmured at the array of gleaming metal there, and fell to his knees. He tapped and listened, managing to fit his head into the tiny space to study the pipes.
Viviane might as well have been part of the wallpaper. She thought rather longingly of the way they had begun the day, not to mention the way she’d like to pick up where they had left off. Well, maybe she could solve the basic problem and get them back to where they had started.
It was worth a try.
Viviane cleared her throat pointedly, though Niall didn’t look up—at least not until she lifted the lid of the toilet. He bumped his head on the top of the cupboard and winced, though that didn’t seem to affect his interest.
In the toilet.
Viviane flatly refused to believe any magic serving bodily functions was more interesting than she was. At least not for more than a few moments.
“And this is the toilet you were looking for. You see, it really is very clever, you sit and well…” She felt herself blush. “Well, you can guess that part, but then it all goes away.”
“Aye?” He peered at the bowl, then looked behind it.
“Like this!” Viviane flicked the lever, pleased with her showmanship when Niall jumped backward at the noisy flushing of the bowl. A heartbeat later, he squatted beside it, unceremoniously laying claim to the lever and flushing it himself. He chuckled to himself, repeating the deed.
Then he leaned close to listen and did it again. And again. And one more time.
He might as well have been alone. When he murmured to himself, that was enough.
“You’re not supposed to flush it unless you have to,” Viviane said a little more snippily than she had intended. “Barb says it’s bad for the water table, though how you could make a table of water, I don’t know. It must be some kind of magical trick they do here in Avalon and the flushing affects how well it works…”
Viviane’s words caught in her throat as Niall’s fingers fell on the lid of the box at the back. Before she knew what he was about, he had removed it, displaying the innards of the magical device to the eye. Viviane cried out in dismay, certain some vengeful being would retaliate for the intrusion, but Niall took no notice of her whatsoever.
And the toilet didn’t seem inclined to take vengeance for Niall abusing it so.
Viviane crept closer and looked at the array of bars and balls submerged in water there, curious despite herself. She couldn’t see any sign of a being in charge, vengeful or otherwise, but then, it had probably hidden away in the blink of an eye, once it had known Niall was going to expose it. The fey didn’t like to be spied upon or have their dwellings invaded. Everyone knew that.
Except apparently Niall. He plunged his hand into the water there and flicked at the innards with one fingertip.
“You shouldn’t touch them!” Viviane hissed, clutching his arm. “You’ll muck up the magic! Who knows what will happen to you? You could be struck with lightning or banished from the realm, cursed for all your days and nights.”
Niall cast a telling glance her way. “You fret overmuch. This is no magic.”
Before Viviane could argue, he pulled on something with a fingertip. The toilet flushed, even though he hadn’t touched the flushing lever.
This time, Viviane jumped backward, though Niall almost smiled.
He shook his head and pursed his lips, looking as satisfied as a large cat after a hot meal. “Now, where does the impulse begin?”
He straddled the seat, both hands in the tank, water up to his elbows as he explored. Some of the water splashed on the floor, but Niall was as oblivious to that as he was to Viviane. A frown marred his brow as he touched and wiggled, his concentration complete.
She had lost him to a magical garderobe.
His obliviousness to her naked presence was a startling contrast to earlier this morning and Viviane didn’t much like the change. She thought she had a good idea how to get his attention back again, although it was her last real possibility.
“Well,” she said with a breezy confidence she wasn’t quite feeling “if you think that is a marvel, you will be amazed by this!” Viviane hauled back the drape over the shower stall, feeling triumphant when Niall glanced up.
She turned on the torrent of water, making sure the blend was nice and hot, then flicked a victorious glance his way. “You see, it’s a small room made specifically for washing, like standing beneath a waterfall, but right in the warmth and comfort of this room. It’s perfect! And people here take it for granted so much that they bathe within it once or even twice a day.”
Viviane was uncertain how he would respond to her bold suggestion, but was still intent upon making it. “It has always seemed to me that the room is large enough to be shared, but perhaps we could find out for certain this morning.”
Niall stood up and leaned into the stall, toyed with the taps, eyed the drain, then shook his head.
“’Tis just as the smaller one,” he concluded, shook the water droplets out of his hair, and bowed his head once more over the innards of the toilet.
“But this one is for washing all over.” Viviane waited, but to no avail. “You climb into it naked and there’s plenty of room for two. I’m sure of it!”
Niall’s brow furrowed with concentration. He didn’t even answer her. Viviane tapped her toe, she let the steam fill the washroom.
But Niall didn’t even look up. She danced her fingertips over his shoulder, but he just shrugged off her touch.
Well, it was clear enough just about anything was more interesting than she was this morning, though she had certainly tried to set matters to rights. Viviane couldn’t solve Niall’s mood alone, particularly when he wasn’t helping her any.
Maybe he just needed some time alone.
Well, she had to go to work anyhow.
Viviane lifted her chin and marched into the shower, taking great delight in generously using her favorite shower gel. She wasn’t about to let him forget she was here, she was naked, she was willing, and this shower could be shared. The washroom filled with the perfume of roses and Viviane knew it, but Niall’s shadow still hunkered over the new object of his affection.
Viviane hummed, loudly and off-key, just to make sure he didn’t completely forget she was there. She ‘inadvertently’ got him wet, when she had to reach past him for a nail brush, making good and sure in the process he couldn’t miss seeing her naked and wet.
Niall barely glanced up.
She brushed her hip against him, laying a hand on his shoulder and practically poked her breast in his ear when she reached for the soap beside the sink. She apologized prettily, citing the small confines of the room, knowing full well she had left a dribble of scented shower foam on the nape of his neck.
Niall wiped it off without glancing her way.
And Viviane finally became angry.
How dare he treat her with such disinterest? How dare he follow her all the way to Avalon, prove himself her own knight in shining armor, and then simply forget about her?
That was not the way any of the books proceeded and certainly not the way hers was written. No! Niall should have been right here in this shower with her, running his big hands over her body, lathering up that shower gel and making her moan.
Well, it wasn’t as though she hadn’t made things crystal clear!
Viviane scrubbed with rising annoyance, wondering what else she could have possibly done. Her temper had just about come to a full simmer when Niall cried “aha!” and the toilet gurgled as it flushed with gusto.
The water in the shower turned so icy cold Viviane screamed.
She jumped out onto the mat, shivering from head to toe, and earned herself only the most cursory glance from the man of her dreams.
“You end this ritual most hastily,” he commented with an innocence that made her wonder whether he truly had no idea what he had done. She glared at him, but he was supremely oblivious, his tinkering fingers back at his self-appointed task.
He even whistled slightly under his breath.
Curse him! Viviane scrubbed herself off, then threw the wet towel at his head. She stormed off to dress for work without wasting a backward glance. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure of any more of her attention. After all, few hours of being alone would show him the delights of her company and remind him of all he was missing.
Wouldn’t it?
The toilet flushed once more as Viviane descended the stairs, her anger rising another notch at the certainty Niall didn’t know she was gone.
Men!
But Niall knew.
Oh, he knew and he wished he did not. ’Twas only after the door slammed behind Viviane and the chamber echoed with silence that he heaved a sigh of relief. It had nigh taken every vestige of determination within him to not lunge into the shower after Viviane and take her against that shower wall.
Even now, he was not convinced he could trust himself to not run after her and beg for another chance to lay claim to her many charms. Aye, Viviane was a dangerous beauty, one whose witchery was readily forgotten when she smiled and chattered with such easy charm.
Niall released a shuddering breath. He could nigh see her with the torrent of water pouring over her lovely breasts, her neck arched back, her hair in a wet rivulet against her neck. He had glimpsed her silhouette through the curtain and clenched his teeth; he smelled the potion she used within that place, and known he could not endure the temptation much longer.
But he had.
And she—sorceress that she was—guessed his torment and sought only to make it worse. She leaned herself against him, ensuring he felt the ripe perfection of that breast, no less the way the nipple beaded with the cold. She left a dollop of that infernally seductive mixture upon his own flesh to torment him with the knowledge of what could have been his own. Even now, Niall could smell it and, with each inadvertent turn of his head, he was inundated with a desire that weakened his knees.
Aye, Viviane had cast a spell upon him and addled his wits. Though it took all within him to not take what was offered, Niall of Malloy still ached with desire denied.
How was a man to think sensibly when a beguiling woman stood naked before him and sought to tempt him? What was a decent man to do when he tried only to keep his pledge, and hurt flashed in the eyes of the same woman as a result? Even if the hurt must be feigned, intended to twist his heart with guilt, ’twas no less effective for all of that.
How was a man to forget the way that very woman writhed in his arms, how she trusted him, how she tasted, how very innocent she seemed?
Niall turned the taps and concentrated on them, desperately trying to push the lady from his thoughts. On and off, hot and cold. Up and down, flush and fill. These devices were not nearly as interesting as he would have had Viviane believe.
But they had kept his hands busy.
Aye, the way she pressed those breasts against him, the way she kissed him, the way she persistently invited him back for more—’twas enough to drive a man of principles mad with desire.
A desire Niall dared not fulfill.
He had no place taking pleasure from the woman he had sworn to return to the executioner’s block. ’Twould be wrong, ’twould make his task even more difficult. Niall reminded himself of that, even as his body argued the lady’s own case.
The very fact she desired him was telling. Aye, ’twas not the way of women to seek out such intimacy, unless they were in the trade of earning a living that way.
And Viviane was no whore.
Nay, she was a witch, which meant she sought to seduce him for other nefarious means, for her own means. There was one tale of witches Niall recalled, for ’twas the one that chilled him to his very bones.
There was a token they desired, these witches, one that made men fall thrall to their twisted will. Aye, ’twas a token that must be won willingly from a man, then could be used against him and all his brethren with dreadful power.
For a mortal man to plant himself willingly within a witch was a daunting prospect, by the telling of this tale. To be sure, there was a part of him Niall would prefer did not shrivel and fall off. Whether ’twould be mounted and used as a powerful talisman thereafter or not.
Niall would simply prefer to keep himself intact.
Viviane must have guessed his true objective in pursuing her and sought to turn matters to her own advantage. Indeed, Niall recalled little of what he had said the night before beneath the assault of Paula’s potion. He might well have told her of his mission himself.
One could never be certain. Viviane intended to render his quest a failure, ’twas as simple as that.
’Twas far from reassuring that the better part of Niall was more than prepared to surrender to the lady’s ardent demands, the consequences be damned. Aye, ’twas not reason guiding his impulse here!
Indeed, he had come dangerously close to joining her as she laved herself so close beside him. So great was his distraction that Niall had barely been able to distinguish what was before his own eyes. He had not found the flushing lever on purpose, though in hindsight, he was glad he had. Niall had been close to succumbing to the lady’s allure, her exit saving him just in time.
He was honest enough to admit he was disappointed, however foolishly. Niall toyed absently with the water device, watching the water flow when he turned the handle one way, then stop when he turned it the other.
’Twas only then he realized the import of what was beneath his hands.
He was no sorcerer and yet he readily made the device conjure the water. Hot and cold, on and off. Niall could see the hand of man in this. Though he could not fathom what made the water run, he knew he controlled its temperature and pace with perfect precision.
No spells, no rhymes, no incantations or slaughtered poultry were necessary to ensure the device did its task. The good sense of a clear-thinking man was behind this or Niall would eat his armor.
Ha! A reasonable explanation!
It made perfect sense. Niall had heard of marvels of the East in many matters—men of afar oft had other ideas, other cleverness that could be understood once explained.
But that did not make those marvels magic.
Aye, he could not explain the mechanism of the mill that ground the flour, though he knew well enough it did. And he had not the skill to make ale from water and yeast, though he knew it could be done.
What if no magic governed doings here at all?
He straightened, stunned by the next clear step in his thinking. What if this was not Avalon? What if Paula was not a pixie and none of the others were sorcerers? What if they were but people, albeit people of some unknown and exotic locale, people with skills beyond those of the archbishop’s court?
Foreigners. With foreign ways and advanced mechanisms.
Niall dropped the lid and sat down heavily, his thoughts flying like quicksilver. ’Twas perfectly reasonable, an explanation that deeply appealed to his sense of how matters should be.
And, if he could learn some of the marvels of this exotic place, then he could bring new prosperity to Cantlecroft! He would be like one of the old crusaders, returning from an arduous quest with exotic marvels that dazzled those who had remained behind!
And vastly improved their lot. Oh, had they not learned much of the machinery of war from Outremer? And what of the marvel that was silk? The spices they now used to flavor meat, the cloves and pepper, both once unknown on England’s chilly shores.
Then, he truly would be a hero.
Niall turned on the shower as Viviane had done and watched the water flow, an even more appealing possibility taking shape in this thoughts. People like the archbishop would pay dearly for this marvel in their homes. Aye, the man who held the secret of this cleverness would be in high demand.
With understanding of these devices, Niall could create labor for his nephews that would see them gainfully employed for all their days.
’Twas perfect!
But all hinged upon his ability to prove this was a mechanical marvel, this was not Avalon, but some distant realm of men. Niall stepped beneath the stream of water, knowing his mission had just taken on another wrinkle.
First and foremost, he had to discover where precisely this was.
’Twas only then, as Niall turned his face to the beat of water, that he let himself savor the sight of Viviane, gloriously nude. He smiled to himself in recollection of her hasty departure from this shower, gooseflesh over her skin, her nipples beading, her eyes flashing sparks.
He recalled how she had looked when she gained her pleasure, the little wordless sound she had made as she crested the pinnacle, and part of him awakened with a vengeance. He had been over cruel in letting her believe he was not achingly aware of her beauty—’twas no wonder she was annoyed.
Surely ’twould hurt little to make amends with her first.
’Twas just his sense of chivalry, Niall knew. Aye, ’twould be churlish to leave the lady irked with him for no better cause than his own distrust of his impulses.
Or perhaps ’twas a desire for his own welfare. There was no telling, after all, what a vexed witch might do to a man. Niall told himself he had a duty to set matters to rights, to ensure Viviane was not irked with him. Then he would avoid her company—at least until he had discovered all he needed to know—lest she tempt him to forget himself.
And then, he would return them both to Cantlecroft.