Barb took one look at Viviane and headed for the tiny kitchen off the back of the bookstore. “You look like you need a cup of tea,” she said in the same moment she plugged in the kettle.
“Oh, Barb!” Viviane’s hands bunched into fists and she made a little growl of frustration. She looked like a riled pussycat, one who was so seldom riled she didn’t know quite what to do with her claws. “I could just kill him!”
“Sit.” Barb pulled out a chair and pointed to it, characteristically in no mood for avoiding the point. “Who is he?”
Viviane dropped onto the seat and knotted her hands together in her lap. Her teeth were obviously gritted and her color was high.
She had it bad, Barb immediately decided. The guy, after all, had said he wouldn’t be here long. She didn’t need a map to see where this conversation was going, although she didn’t like the view. Barb reflected that, sadly, it had only been a matter of time before a really nice woman like Viviane found some jerk to take advantage of her.
Viviane was almost too nice. In fact, business had improved a lot since Viviane came on board, mostly because the younger woman was so genuine. She was a bit shy, but once people asked her about books—especially romances!—well, she had lots to say.
She was really interested in the constantly changing condition of Mrs. MacAllister’s gout. She listened to all of Mr. Ramsay’s adventures, or at least the adventures of his amorous billy goat who wouldn’t stay home and Mr. Ramsay’s ongoing efforts to foil the goat’s escapes.
And Viviane loved books. Barb was starting to think hiring Viviane was one of the smartest things she had ever done. People came, just to visit with Viviane, just to see her smile and hear her talk about the books she was reading.
The woman read like a demon, she seemed obsessed with reading every single book in the store. And she was ready to tell anyone about her latest favorite, always with such enthusiasm her listeners invariably bought books.
A lot of books. Barb was beginning to wish Viviane could be twins.
As unlikely as it might have seemed to the casual observer, even prickly and private Barb had become very fond of her new employee. Viviane had a tendency to bring out Barb’s deeply buried maternal impulses, as she did right now. Viviane was such a peach—she deserved better than some love-’em-and-leave-’em type.
A type who had apparently left Barb with the fun job of explaining the truth to Viviane.
What a rat!
Viviane took a deep breath and unknotted her fingers, clearly choosing her words with care. “I knew Niall before, where I used to live.”
“And he followed you here.” Barb tossed tea bags into the old brown teapot, not liking the sound of this at all.
“Well, yes.” Viviane frowned and propped her hand on her elbow with a sigh. Barb noted it was not the sigh of a happy woman. “And I thought it was so romantic, that he came after me and he brought me back the pendant I had lost there and he seemed so glad to have found me…”
“And…” Barb prompted.
Viviane shrugged and toyed with a spoon left lying on the table. “I thought it was like one of the books, and everything would be wonderful, we were destined to be together and he loved me. And when he kissed me, well…”
“So you slept with him.” Barb grimly filled the teapot with boiling water.
Viviane lowered her voice to a scandalized whisper as her cheeks pinkened. “We didn’t just sleep, Barb.”
“Well, duh!” Barb shot a lethal glance across the room. “I figured that out.”
Viviane bit her lip and frowned at the stray spoon as she spun it around the tabletop with one fingertip.
Barb had seen enough of Regret to recognize it when it showed up in her shop, guns a-blazing. And she had given the Get Real talk enough times to have it memorized, not to mention her own extensive on-the-ground experience.
Might as well get it over with. Barb poured tea, which was pretty thin, and plunked the two mugs down on the table. She sat down opposite Viviane and willed the younger woman to look at her.
She deliberately kept her voice unemotional.
“So, now it’s done and you’re worrying about biological souvenirs and thinking that maybe you made a big mistake. You can’t imagine what you were thinking last night, that maybe you jumped into the pond too fast. Maybe you’re half worried he’s going to boot it.”
Barb turned her steaming mug in the wet ring it left on the table. “On the other hand, you don’t really know anything about him, not nearly enough to be making any sort of commitment and what you’ve seen so far isn’t changing your mind. And that part of you is wondering how you’re going to get rid of him if he doesn’t boot it.”
Barb sipped, certain she had nailed it in one.
“Oh, no! Niall won’t leave.”
That was news to her, but Viviane seemed convinced. In fact, her whole face had brightened. “I mean, we’re meant to be together.” She smiled with a sunny confidence Barb didn’t share. “I just know it.”
Hmmm. Barb sipped her tea and decided to try another tack. Let him do his own dirty work! “So, how well did you know him before?”
“Not very well,” Viviane acknowledged with a dreamy smile. “But there was a force between us, right from the beginning. And you know, when he kisses me, well I just forget all about everything else. He tastes so good and he feels so…”
“Spare me the play by play.” Barb waved her mug. “What’s the issue here?”
Viviane sighed. “We had a wonderful time last night and a better time this morning. I fell back asleep, but when I woke up, Niall was different.”
“How different?”
“As though he didn’t want to be near me.” Viviane appealed to Barb with a glance. “I just couldn’t seem to get his attention. He started fiddling with the toilet, trying to figure how it worked or something. It was as though I wasn’t even there!”
“Did you say anything mushy to him?”
Viviane looked perplexed.
“You know, did you make any reference to, say, your being destined to be together.”
“Well, of course!” Viviane looked at Barb as though she was the thick one. “It’s perfectly obvious, after all. That’s why he’s here!”
Barb leaned across the table, losing the battle to bite back a smile. “But Viviane, he’s a guy.”
“I know that.”
“Do you have brothers?”
“No.”
“Well, if you did, you’d know that they’re just different. Guys think different from us, they talk different from us, but sometimes they mean the same thing. And when emotion shows up”—Barb rolled her eyes—“they do their damnedest to duck and run.” She gestured with her mug. “He’s being evasive. He’s not sure what you expect from him and doesn’t want to talk about it.”
Or he did know and didn’t want to let Viviane down right to her face. Barb’s usually unsympathetic heart twisted just a little.
Because anyone could see Viviane was an incurable romantic. Barb didn’t want to be the one to tell her some men never fell in love. Nope, Mr. Tall, Blond and Handsome could clean up after himself.
As much as Barb hated the thought of him doing it. She heaved a sigh and tried to be helpful as well as protective. Because if anyone could reform a rat, it was sweet, genuine Viviane.
She forced a smile for her troubled employee. “Take a look in the relationship section when you have a chance and you’ll see different. Men are from Mars and all that jazz. They’re like a different species.”
“I had no idea…”
“How would you?” Barb patted her employee’s hand. “See, you’ve been reading too much in the romance section. Great stuff, but written by women for women, if you know what I mean. Kind of how we’d like men to be if we got to design them from the ground up, instead of the way they really are.”
Viviane seemed to be thinking about that.
“They don’t read romances, Viviane, so they don’t have a clue. In fact, they don’t read the relationship books, either, though they whine enough about not understanding women. Goddess forbid that they did anything to solve that!”
Viviane smiled, just a glimmer of her usual enthusiasm but it was enough for Barb.
“You’ve got to look at what he’s done. Guys put more value in deeds than words.”
“You sound like Niall,” Viviane charged and Barb couldn’t stop her chuckle.
“Years in the trenches. Three brothers—I was trained from the cradle, after all. Or maybe I should call it trial by fire.” Barb leaned closer when Viviane didn’t seem to follow the reference. “You said he followed you—was it far? Expensive? Hard to do?”
Viviane’s eyes rounded. “Oh yes!”
“And he brought you a gift?”
Viviane fingered a pendant she was wearing. “I dropped this when I saw him last and he brought it back to me.”
Barb was impressed, despite herself. “That was nice of him. Give credit where it’s due—most people wouldn’t have bothered.”
Viviane smiled. “I thought it was a gallant gesture,” she said softly, smile broadening to make her features glow. “Something fitting for a knight of old to do for his lady.”
Oh boy, she was smitten.
“Well, he must have wanted to see you again,” Barb acknowledged reluctantly. “Maybe it was an excuse. They like that—covering up a sweet gesture with what seems like a logical one.” Or a horny one. Barb couldn’t bring herself to say that when Viviane looked so hopeful. Instead, she reached out one hand. “Let me see it.”
The pendant was a moonstone set in silver, an old piece and obviously of some value. There was a lot of silver in the heavy setting and the stone was probably the biggest and bluest moonstone Barb had ever seen.
She touched it with one fingertip and shivered at the coldness of the stone. “It’s beautiful and unique.”
“My mother gave it to me,” Viviane admitted.
A sentimental piece. The guy had played a sentimental card and, judging by Viviane’s softened expression, he had played it well. Barb frowned—that wasn’t the gesture of a guy determined to cut and run.
Maybe, just maybe, he was smitten as badly as Viviane but did a better job of hiding it. Barb ran her thumb across the stone and wondered.
Maybe.
“Right.” Barb released the pendant and gave her employee a smile. “Maybe you should cut him some slack. If he’s a creep trying to take advantage of you, you’ll know soon enough. That kind of thing is hard to hide.” She shrugged and finished her tea.
But Viviane didn’t look away. “Do you think he’s a creep?”
Barb turned her empty mug in that wet mark again, but she found it impossible to lie to Viviane.
“I don’t know.” Barb shrugged. “He could just be Grade A prime male, right to the bone.”
The younger woman flashed an impish grin. “Or maybe he just doesn’t understand that we’re meant for each other.” Before Viviane could say anything more, the man in question appeared on the stairs to the room above.
“Viviane?” he said, the low rumble of his voice filling the shop. His gaze fixed on Viviane and he smiled the kind of slow, sensuous smile that would make every woman with a pulse ready to surrender.
He was almost better looking dressed than half-naked, though it was a close call. He was certainly all man. Barb took a good look to confirm her conclusion and silently sighed with almost forgotten longing.
“Are you not hungered this morn?” Niall asked, the direction of his thoughts as obvious as the perfect nose on his ruggedly handsome face.
Barb snorted at her own reality check and took her cup to the sink. “One hundred percent prime, all right,” she muttered.
Niall frowned and Barb felt his gaze follow her. “I must apologize to you for this morn. I did not know the marvels of this washroom…”
Barb waved off his apology. “What’s done is done.” She fired a glance his way. “I and the Siberian Iris would appreciate no repeats.”
Niall bowed and Barb disliked that she was so easily impressed by his manners.
Viviane looked between the pair of them with obvious confusion. “You know each other already?”
“We met in the garden,” Barb supplied crisply, unable to resist tossing one hard look at the man in question. He held her gaze steadily and she credited him with not wincing.
But it wouldn’t hurt Viviane to have all the facts. “Funny what you said about not staying long,” she said flatly. “Viviane seems to think you’re here to stay.”
He inhaled sharply and Viviane gasped, her smile banished. She turned to Niall with dismay and Barb felt a surge of satisfaction that at least she’d moved everything out into the open.
“Go on, take the day,” she said with a cheerful wave and a wink for Viviane. Her employee was busy looking daggers at Niall, who was glaring at Barb. “Get your boy toy fed. It’s going to be slow today, anyhow, what with the rain.”
It would probably take them all day to sort that one out.
Barb almost wished she could watch.
To Niall’s relief, Viviane seemed disinclined to chatter, which could only mean she was hungered as well. She marched along beside him, with nary a glance his way. And ’twas easier to not be tempted by her charm this way, that much was certain.
Though after a few moments, Niall began to wonder whether there was more at root than hunger.
“You seem less than amiable,” he ventured. “Did this Barb complain of my pissing in her garden?”
Viviane flashed a lethal glance his way. “So, that was how you met. Did you have a nice long chat?”
“Nay.”
The lady sniffed and hauled open the door of a shop, firing a glance over her shoulder that would have made a lesser man cringe. “Then isn’t it strange that you had time to tell her of your plans, when you haven’t told me.”
She let the door close right behind her, leaving Niall to open it again and stride after her.
“Viviane!”
“I have nothing to say to you,” she snapped, then made a show of examining the pastries on display. “After all, you’re not even staying.” She smiled deliberately for the man behind the counter, her manner turning sweet as honey. “Good morning, Joe.”
A burly man with thinning hair and perspiration on his pate smiled a greeting from behind the counter. “Morning, Viviane.” He jerked a thumb toward Niall. “This guy giving you trouble?”
Her smile broadened, though she did not even glance at Niall. “In a way, yes, but there’s no need to worry yourself.” For the first time, she looked at Niall, though the characteristic warmth in her eyes had faded.
That hurt lingered there again and Niall knew he was responsible for it.
“I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding,” she added softly, the hint of vulnerability in her tone twisting a knife in Niall’s heart.
Oh, if she had not been a witch, he would have been a base villain! He could not help feeling the part, though he knew that she deliberately toyed with him.
The baker looked doubtful. “If you say so.”
Niall’s belly knotted at the smell of fresh bread and he knew he would not be able to think matters through without a good meal. He eyed the goods on display and his hunger grew a thousand-fold. They even had pastry filled with sausage meat, his favored treat, though the pastries were over small.
Niall frowned. Though ’twas not uncommon for merchants to cut portions to ensure higher profits. Surely even here there was a master of the market to ensure the measures were being met?
But no one seemed prepared to complain besides Niall.
“What would you like today?”
Viviane stepped forward and opened her mouth, but Niall did not like the gleam in the man’s eye. Why did this one take Viviane’s protection upon his own shoulders? And what would he desire of her in return? Niall could readily imagine and did not like the thought.
Indeed, he would win her favor once more by showing himself respectful of her honor. Then she would be irked with him no longer. Niall immediately stepped up beside Viviane and asked for a dozen of the small sausage-filled pastries.
After all, he wanted to ensure they had enough.
Viviane caught her breath and flicked another cold glance his way, but Niall realized his plan to win her favor was not working over well.
“Anything else, sir?”
“A measure of ale would be most welcome.”
The man behind the counter snorted. “Not here. No need for a liquor license in a bakery.”
Niall was astonished. “A man cannot break his fast with ale?”
“Only in the tavern, and on some days, not before midday,” Viviane confided in an undertone.
Niall shook his head. “And you call this paradise,” he muttered, earning a sympathetic grin from the man behind the counter.
“I’m with you. Nothing like a cold brew first thing in the morning to start the day off right.” He winced. “And nothing like the old L.C.B.C. to take the fun out of that.”
Niall knew of no Elsie Beesie, and thus knew not what to say. How could a woman keep a man from selling ale in the morn? He could not imagine, but dared not ask Viviane under this merchant’s bright eye.
The baker propped an elbow on the counter, clearly warming to a favored theme. “Nothing like the government putting their dirty fingers into everything, taxing the life out of us, that’s what they’re doing. I say they should get out of the liquor business, privatize the selling of booze like they’ve done in Alberta. They’ll never do it, though, bunch of weenies, because they’re making too much money to bear to give it up.”
He nodded crisply and Niall slanted a glance to Viviane. She looked as confused by this monologue as he, and he was startled to find himself again feeling a sense of kinship with her.
Niall nodded, because it seemed some acknowledgment should be made. “You speak good sense,” he allowed, and the baker sniffed approval.
“Then you’d be able to have your brew in the morning, because you can be sure I’d have it right on tap, right here.” He winked. “Though it wouldn’t be the most profitable enterprise I ever took on, if you know what I mean.”
Niall did not, but refrained from saying so.
“Usual for you, Viviane?”
“Yes, please, Joe.”
“And what is this concoction?” Niall asked her as the balding man bustled away to mix things together. He couldn’t help but wish she would at least glance his way, even knowing ’twas her spell that left him yearning like a pup.
’Twas most disconcerting to have her resolve to ignore him before he could apologize, then proceed to keep his distance from her.
“Is it of the same ilk as Paula’s potion?”
Viviane smiled for the balding man, but not—Niall noticed with disappointment—for him. “Joe’s café au lait is so good that you’ll believe it’s made by magic alone.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and smiled again for the baker Joe.
That man beamed as he set a cup on the counter. The warm gaze he spared for Viviane was duly noted by Niall.
Who heartily disapproved.
Aye, this man wore a ring upon his finger, a gold band of import that could not be missed. And Viviane was not his spouse!
Niall was prepared to dislike this concoction on principle alone, at least until the steam rising from the frothing cup teased his nostrils. It smelled so exotic and unlike anything else he had known that he immediately decided to take Viviane’s advice.
Perhaps that would win her favor.
But nay, she seemed not to note his choice, not at all.
Niall’s mood soured yet further. When the tally was made, he tried to pay with one of the coins he had moved from purse to pocket on Derek’s vessel, but the baker frowned at it.
“We don’t take foreign money,” Joe said crisply and handed it back. “U.S. dollars at par, unless you go to the bank. Sorry”—he shrugged—“but it’s so busy that I don’t have time to screw around with exchange rates.”
Niall looked to Viviane, embarrassed by his inability to pay for their victuals. She dug in her own pocket, producing an odd array of colored coins and paper.
The balance was paid while Niall’s ears burned, though none seemed to find him less of a man for so relying upon his female companion’s largesse. Indeed, friendly greetings exchanged as they gathered their purchases, and the shop filled with familiar talk about the weather. The merchant had provided small tables and chairs in his shop, perhaps the reason for his small portions.
Niall followed Viviane’s lead with brown powders she called sugar and cinnamon, his first sip of this beverage making his eyes close in wonder. ’Twas marvelous and he could quickly see he would have need of another.
Niall consumed several sausage rolls in silence before his belly was appeased, then met Viviane’s cautious gaze. The deed could be avoided no longer. “I would apologize to you, for ’tis clear you are angered with me this morn.”
Her lips tightened and she avoided his gaze. “If you’re leaving, it doesn’t matter whether I’m angry with you or not.”
“Viviane…”
She put her cup back down on the board with force. “Are you leaving? And if you are, how could you tell Barb but not me? You don’t even know her! And why did you ignore me this morning?” Her lovely eyes clouded with tears, which must have been the only reason Niall’s innards clenched. “What’s wrong? How could you even think of leaving? I thought that we…”
Niall reached across and snared her hand, wishing the others in this establishment were not so interested in their conversation. He looked into Viviane’s eyes, knowing he couldn’t lie to her despite her witchery, but needing to reassure her.
And zounds, he had to ensure she did not cry!
Some parts of the truth would simply have to be avoided, there was naught else for it.
“Viviane,” he said in a voice low with determination. “If I had joined you in your showering chamber, we should still be there.”
That was true enough.
She caught her breath, her eyes widening slightly as she stared at him. Her gaze was so full of hope he could not imagine the expression was contrived.
Niall held her gaze and smiled slowly, liking how her hand relaxed in his and her gaze softened. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, unaware he intended to do so before he felt the smooth sweep of her skin pass beneath his touch.
“And if I had but looked upon you,” he murmured, “then I would have joined you. Matters might well have moved too quickly and we might have done what would later be regretted.”
“Oh, Niall!” Viviane smiled at him then, for the first time since he had come into the shop seeking her and Niall’s heart clenched. “Trust you to be worried about something like that!”
And she reached across the table, framed his face in her hands and kissed him soundly.
Niall’s heart leaped, but Viviane did not pull back, her lips soft against his own. He could smell the sweet scent of her skin, of that cursed lotion she had used in the shower, and his body responded with vigor.
When she flicked her tongue against his lips like a thirsty kitten sipping milk, desire raged hot through his veins. Zounds, he would take her right here and care naught for the consequences!
Niall caught at her wrists, and with a herculean effort, lifted her hands from his face. He broke their kiss, knowing his gaze simmered into hers but unable to stop it.
His breathing was ragged, the sight of Viviane’s flushed cheeks doing naught to ease his state.
Then, she smiled.
’Twas only because he had affirmed the effect of her spell upon him, Niall was certain. Though now he realized the folly of what he had done, too late to undo it.
At least, the tears had disappeared from her eyes.
Indeed, she leaned closer and Niall’s heart skipped a beat, his mouth going dry. “Oh, Niall, I just knew that everything would come out right. I knew you had to desire me, just as I want you and now that I know you’re not leaving, well everything will be just fine! Barb said you would be shy about confessing your emotions, but I think you’ve done a wonderful job already and now”—she pinkened in a most delightful way as she smiled at him—“now, I’ll just have to convince you to love me. Don’t worry, it will be perfect!”
And she sipped her beverage, as content as a cat by the fire.
Niall swallowed. He had put himself back in the position he most wished to avoid. He had to say something to keep Viviane at distance, something to undermine her conviction they would shortly share a bed, something to make her forget her intent to charm him.
So, Niall said the first thing that came to mind, prompted as it was by the smell of a warm sausage pastry.
“Aye, I should be sorely hungered if we still were in this washing room. ’Tis good indeed we were not delayed there overlong.”
Niall bit into his pastry with gusto.
Through his lashes, he watched Viviane catch her breath and deliberately decided to make matters worse.
“Indeed, I cannot imagine what a man could love more than a warm pastry such as this one.” He finished it with one hearty bite, quickly claiming another, smacking his lips and feigning indifference to the lady’s presence.
Viviane glared at him, her lips tight, then sat back in her chair. Her eyes shone oddly but Niall refused to let himself be swayed by the prospect of tears.
Nay, he had a mission. And he could only fulfill his mission by ensuring Viviane’s desire was not achieved.
Surprisingly, his own desire to kiss her did not ease.
Indeed, Niall felt newly guilty for disappointing her. ’Twas an irrational impulse and he would do best to not linger upon it.
“What is the coin of this realm?” Niall asked, in a bid to distract her and prompt her chatter once again. The woman loved to talk, after all, and she was uncommonly good at explaining matters, even if she was prone to attribute all to magic. “Let me see it. I would not err so again.”
Viviane obligingly poured it onto the table between them, though her manner indicated she was unimpressed by the chance to explain it to him.
’Twas unlike any currency Niall had ever seen before, the rims of the coins unnicked. There were coins of all hues of metal, instead of simply gold or silver, and they were most finely minted. There was a regent on one side—a queen, no less!—which was familiar enough, and an animal on the reverse, much like the emblems Niall knew well.
The images upon them, however, were crisper than any Niall had ever seen. This he suspected was a function of a skilled die-maker.
“Tell me of it,” he asked.
The lady folded her arms across her chest mutinously.
“Viviane, ’tis all I ask of you,” Niall murmured and saw her heave a sigh.
“Are you leaving?”
Niall held her gaze. “Not without you.”
’Twas true. Just uttering the words restored Niall’s glum mood, just as the deed clearly delighted the lady.
“I knew it!” she cried and smiled for him again. Niall’s heart began to pound. “I’ll teach you to love me,” Viviane pledged as she leaned closer, a tempting smile playing over her full lips. She wrinkled her nose and shook her finger at him playfully. “And it has been said that I can be irresistible.”
Niall’s mouth went dry. Indeed, he believed her claim well enough and could think of several ways to succumb to her charms right here and now, though he fought to keep his expression impassive.
Viviane barely noticed his response, her cheerful manner restored. “This one is a dollar.” She fished out a copper hued coin and handed it to Niall, the brushing of their fingers in the transaction sending a tingle over his flesh. He frowned that she might not guess his response. “They call it a loonie, though I don’t know why.”
Niall turned the coin in his fingers. Viviane spoke with good sense—there was naught about it that resembled the moon. Its color was wrong, too brassy for even a harvest moon and there was a water bird of some kind upon its back.
“And this one is worth two of those,” she separated another from the pile and handed it to him. ’Twas distinctive in that it was wrought of two different metals, one encircling the other in a most skilled fashion. “They call it a toonie.”
Niall glanced up, puzzled, and she shrugged.
“I don’t know why.” She picked through the pile of smaller coins, laying them out in order. “These ones are worth fractions of the loonie or the dollar, whichever you want to call it.”
“Like shillings and pence.”
“Yes, but they divide the dollar into measures of a hundred called cents. So, this is a quarter of a dollar, and this is called a dime and is worth ten cents.”
“Ten to the dollar.”
“Um hmm. And the nickel is five cents and the penny is a single cent. Then there’s the paper money.” She unfurled vellum so brightly hued and embellished it made Niall gasp. These pictures he could not so readily explain, though it was clear there was real talent in the making of them. The green one labeled ‘20’ even had a square upon it that gleamed like gold held one way, and with the shiny green of a beetle’s back the other.
He could not blame Viviane for calling this magic, though Niall hoped he could prove ’twas otherwise.
“They call it paper,” Viviane confided in an undertone. “Barb says it’s made of wood and they use this paper for everything, including books.”
Niall glanced up with surprise. “What of vellum and parchment?”
“Very expensive here.” Viviane shrugged. “Paper is cheaper.”
Niall arched a brow, the idea of goods being expensive having little to do with his idea of an otherworldly paradise. His pulse quickened, his certainty growing he was right. “And whence does it come, this currency?”
“You work for it, just like in Cantlecroft, but get it at the bank.” She pointed to a building with a large blue sign and Niall marked its location.
“Moneychangers.”
Viviane nodded and Niall shook his head. They were everywhere, with their exorbitant interest rates and fees for services, worse than whores for cheating a man.
Their presence did not mesh with his expectation of paradise either. All the same, he would visit there later this day to have his own coin changed, though he would ensure the moneychangers did not cheat him. They were well known for such thievery, even in Cantlecroft, and Niall was even more convinced this place was more like home than not.
“Barb pays me to be in the shop and help her clients. She even lets me read the books so I can suggest which ones people might like to read and oh, Niall, it’s so interesting! I never imagined that there were so many books in the world and so many stories being told, and so many marvelous kingdoms being described.”
“Though indeed”—she leaned closer and Niall echoed her gesture before he caught himself—“there is much that I do not understand.”
Viviane wrinkled her nose in a most fetching manner. “They must all be tales of this magical realm, or perhaps of other magical realms. ’Tis more than a little confusing, though I must confess, my interest is in the romantic deeds. That I can always understand!” Her eyes shone in a most beguiling manner as she talked and Niall had a hard time keeping his skepticism in place.
Aye, he could have simply watched the woman all the day long. No doubt that was her scheme—for ’twould keep him from learning all he needed to know.
Niall snorted. “I was not aware that any tales of paradise included the concept of labor for coin.”
Viviane sipped her drink. “Well, I don’t work very hard.”
“But you are not there this day.”
Viviane shrugged. “Then Barb won’t pay me.”
Niall was a practical man. Even this small meal had cost considerable measure of Viviane’s coin. They must eat thrice a day and oft more than this small feast. He could see the limitations of this system already, particularly as he was uncertain how long ’twould take to gain the knowledge he now desired, let alone what measure these moneychangers would give him in exchange for his own coin.
He and Viviane might spend a good bit of time in each other’s company. Niall’s heart skipped a beat at the prospect, though he knew ’twas just Viviane’s spell working its witchery upon him.
Nay, his sole desire was to win good apprenticeships for his nephews. And he must remain in the lady’s presence, ideally sharing her quarters, to ensure she did not flee or use her charm to disappear.
’Twas only the thought of fulfilling his pledge that made his pulse quicken.
Niall scowled. “And your chamber? You pay for this with coin or labor?”
“Money. $200 per month.”
“And how much are you paid by this Barb?”
Viviane ran through the numbers for him, Niall calculating sums in his head as ever he had done. She explained her wage and her mode of payment, which meant she had to explain the odd manner of keeping hours in this place. He added and subtracted, and was somewhat reassured they would not starve.
’Twas then Viviane told him of the healthy tithe taken from her earnings.
“It’s a tax,” she explained. “From the government.”
“What government? I have seen neither king nor court!”
“Well, there isn’t actually one here…”
“Nay? And what do they do with your coin? I see no knights, no steeds, no armory. Is all this hidden away from the eye? What of the master of the market?” He poked at his over-small pastry. “Does no one police the measures?”
Viviane dropped her voice and leaned closer. “I haven’t seen any signs of anything like that,” she admitted. “And they say the money goes away to Ottawa, wherever that might be.”
“Distant kings, who take coin and grant naught in return! They are no better than thieves in the night!” Niall roared so loudly that others turned to look. He shook a finger at Viviane. “You should refuse to pay their tithes, for no one should pay a due without winning something in return.”
“You can’t do that. They take it from your pay before it’s given to you.”
Niall was appalled. “What manner of dishonesty runs amok in this land that none are trusted to pay their tithes and taxes?”
“It’s just the way they do things here.” Viviane shrugged. “You’ll have to get used to it.”
“I shall never become accustomed to having my purse raided.” Niall fixed her with a skeptical glance. “One would think that Avalon would be spared the drudgery of labor, coin, and taxes. It has always seemed to me those were the inventions of kings of men.”
Viviane looked surprised. “I never thought of it that way.”
“There is no other way to think of it,” Niall said sternly. “You had best return to your labor this day, for you will have need of the coin.”
Viviane straightened, hurt flashing through her eyes once again. “I thought we would spend the day together.”
“I have matters to tend,” Niall said gruffly, staring at the table instead of into those wondrous eyes. Indeed, he did not dare risk too much of the lady’s companionship, for he knew already how she could make him forget his sworn word.
“I see,” Viviane said frostily. She put her cup firmly onto the table, pushed to her feet and left, without a backward glance.
Niall watched her walk away through the rain and felt a nigh overwhelming sense of failure. It seemed he had done little to ease the fact she was vexed with him. ’Twas a conundrum to not be able to lie to the lady, yet at the same time to seek her favor.
Niall sighed and sipped from his cup. Aye, he knew confessing he was the one dispatched to retrieve her would do little to improve Viviane’s current opinion of him.
But she was a witch. And she had enchanted him. And the guilt he felt was not only magically induced but kept him from fulfilling his duty.
When Niall thought of matters that way—without the distraction of a lady’s lovely face—all made good sense.
Even if it made his innards writhe to know Viviane would be the one to suffer the price. Niall determinedly finished his pastry, being certain to consume every single crumb.
Sooner begun, sooner finished, he concluded and pushed to his feet with purpose. Niall’s lips tightened to a grim line.
First, the moneychangers.