Viviane shivered from the chill and kept her eyes tightly closed. Though she would have never admitted it, it was a relief to feel Niall’s arms locked around her once again and his heat pressed against her.
Even if she was playing second fiddle to some woman he had left pregnant!
She cried while no one could witness it, letting her tears scatter to the four winds, hating her own gullibility. Oh, she had been a fool to believe Niall was her one true love, following her across all time to win her heart and hand.
He had just been doing his job, and a horrible job it was. And now, she was going back to face the execution she had so narrowly escaped.
Some hero she’d found.
Viviane had the same sense of being stretched thin, before she finally felt the gathering begin. It was even more disorienting than the last time, and she couldn’t seem to get a clear sense of where she was. All she could see when she forced her eyes open was clear blue light.
She heard a man cry out, then footsteps hastily drawing closer
She heard Monty swear eloquently, then felt the welcome weight of Niall’s arm lock around her waist.
The first thing she could discern was the floor.
It was made of heavy, rough-hewn planks of wood. Viviane stared at this unwelcome hint of her location as everything else was still lost in that eerie blue light. There were herbs strewn on the floor in a way that wasn’t very common on Salt Spring Island.
Viviane reached for her pendant with shaking fingers, her arm still unwilling to quickly do her bidding. Even though she was dazed by the leap through time, she knew she had one chance and one chance only to escape her dire fate.
But Viviane didn’t even have that.
A man’s hand brushed her fingers aside and closed proprietarily over the moonstone. She looked up to find a tall man bending over her.
His smile was not friendly.
“I will just take this,” he insisted silkily and gave the chain a little tug in case she missed his meaning.
“But the pendant is mine!” Viviane protested.
His smile broadened. “Not any more. Take it off.”
Viviane glanced around herself, only to find Monty shaking his head and moaning. Niall had his fingertips pressed to his temples, his jeans and shirt unlikely to aid them much here. Viviane recalled with a pang his mail was spread over the floor of her room at Barb’s.
An impatient tug urged her to look again at to the man holding her moonstone. He was a tall, elegantly wrought, older man, dark of eye and silver of hair.
They were apparently in his bedroom, which was a remarkably lavish chamber. A massive bed, hung with rich tapestries drawn against the chill of the air, nearly filled the room. Viviane knew she was back in Cantlecroft and she knew she was in the presence of wealth, but she would never have recognized the man before her because he was naked.
But Niall did. “My lord!” he said in sudden astonishment and the man flicked an impatient glance his way.
“I shall deal with you later,” he said crisply and Niall frowned, though he held his tongue.
Viviane gasped. The archbishop! Of course, Niall had asked for an audience in his verse.
She couldn’t hold back her question. “Are you the archbishop?”
He smiled coldly in acknowledgment and Viviane dared to hope. “The pendant, if you please,” he said crisply, but Viviane wasn’t listening.
Maybe she could have the hearing that had been promised to her.
This was her chance!
“Sir!” Viviane, unable to bow, inclined her head with respect. “Sir, my name is Viviane…”
The archbishop frowned. “I know full well who you are. Now, give me this token and give it to me now.”
“But there has been a misunderstanding. I was convicted without ever having the hearing promised to me and if you grant me the chance, I can explain…”
But the archbishop chuckled under his breath. The laughter, Viviane noticed, never reached his eyes. He shook his head and regarded her as though she was a particularly stupid child.
Viviane’s heart chilled.
“There is naught to explain.” He gave the pendant a little tug. “This is eloquent enough.”
Oh, he thought she had created the magical pendant! Viviane hastened to reassure him. “Oh, but that’s not my doing. I didn’t know that it had such power! I just made a wish and never imagined this pendant would take me across the centuries.”
The archbishop’s eyes narrowed and he studied her with sudden intensity. “Across centuries?” Viviane nodded and held his gaze, content to let him see that she wasn’t lying.
“Aye, my lord,” Niall contributed. “We journeyed to the year 1999 and saw many marvels which could be put to use here in Cantlecroft. ’Twould create labor and mechanisms to sell abroad. Indeed, I began to learn of the marvel they call plumbing…”
The archbishop lifted one hand to silence Niall. “Marvels from the future,” he mused and stared into the stone. “Never did I guess the talisman was so potent as that.”
He smiled into Viviane’s eyes but the sight was not reassuring.
All the same, she summoned her best smile and hoped her usual good fortune would see her free of this circumstance. “So you see, there was no witchery about it. I’m not a witch, I didn’t even know the stone did this. It was a gift to me and one whose power I never guessed.”
“I know full well where you won it.” The archbishop’s tone was cold and decisive. He ran his thumb across the stone in an almost proprietary way. “Though I had no inkling of its power until this very moment. Of course, I guessed once you disappeared there was more to the stone than I had suspected. You may be assured that had I known the truth sooner, it would never have been left in your possession.”
She had been condemned because of the stone, but the archbishop hadn’t known it was magical? Viviane frowned in confusion, even as the archbishop’s lips drew to a tight line.
“Such an oversight cannot be tolerated again.” He shook his head and his eyes flashed. “I would have it now.”
The archbishop suddenly flicked his wrist and snapped the pendant from its chain. Viviane cried out as the chain bit into her neck and Niall stepped forward to steady her.
“There is no need to injure the lady!” he said heatedly.
The archbishop smiled. “And no reason to spare her.”
Viviane caught her breath as Niall shook his head. “Nay, my lord, she has been misjudged,” he said vehemently. “The lady is innocent of the charge made against her, and I would vouch for her before you. She is no witch, she is naught but a woman falsely charged. She knew naught of the witchery inherent in this stone.”
The archbishop seemed to find Niall’s defense amusing. “I knew she was innocent of witchcraft.”
Niall’s face lit up. “Then…”
“’Twas never the issue. ’Twas enough that she wore the stone.” The archbishop shivered elaborately and glanced around the rich chamber as Viviane struggled to make sense of his words. Without saying more, he turned to walk back to his bed.
Viviane looked to Niall in consternation and it seemed that he could evidently hold his words back no longer. “But my lord!” he protested. “If you knew the lady was innocent, then why was she condemned to die?”
The archbishop tossed Viviane’s pendant onto a table and glanced back. She gauged the distance and knew she would never be able to retrieve it. “Because obviously I could not afford to let her live.” He smiled coolly. “Just as now, I cannot afford to let you live.”
Niall’s eyes flashed as he straightened. “What nonsense is this?”
“It is no nonsense, Niall of Malloy.” The archbishop folded his arms across his chest. “You have learned matters that were best left unknown.”
“But I am pledged to your service!” Niall argued. “I swore a pledge to you to fetch this woman back to Cantlecroft, and I have fulfilled my task!”
“Against all expectation.” The archbishop smiled thinly.
“I defend her honor and her name!” Niall declared. “You must hear my testimony, as a man of honor.” He interlaced his fingers with Viviane’s. “She is the woman I would take to wife, a woman of good heart and noble intent. You must proclaim her innocence!”
But the archbishop shook his head. “I must do no such thing. ’Tis regrettable, of course, as you were always competent, but one must do what one must. Indeed, if you match your fate to that of a condemned witch, what else am I to do?”
Viviane gasped in horror. How could the archbishop treat Niall so poorly? Niall was pledged to the man’s service and had done nothing wrong.
“’Tis not right!” Niall cried.
“And of what import is that? You will die, as will the woman.” The archbishop smiled. “Together, as you evidently desire to be. Clearly”—his gaze was chilly—“she has bewitched you.”
“But you declared you knew her to be innocent of witchery.”
The archbishop lifted a hand. “There ’tis again, the evidence that you know too much to live.” And he turned his back upon them all as Niall struggled visibly for an argument.
Viviane squeezed his fingers as Monty piped up. “What about me?” He was still sprawled on the floor, his eyes wide and his face pale.
The archbishop considered him with disdain. “And who might you be?”
Monty scrambled to his feet and offered his hand. “I’m Monty Sullivan.” The archbishop surveyed Monty’s outstretched hand and his lip curled slightly. “I’m not even from here and well, hey, I don’t even need to like know these people, if you know what I’m saying.”
Distaste flickered across the archbishop’s features. “Aye, I know what you are saying. You are a man of no account and thus infinitely expendable.” He shook his head. “I shall see that you die first.”
“But…” Monty squeaked.
The archbishop waved off anything he might have said and raised his voice. “Guards! Intruders in my chambers! Aid me!”
No less than seven guards burst into the chamber, their swords drawn and armor rattling. Monty moaned in dismay at the sight and scampered backward until he hit the wall with a thunk. Niall turned and thrust Viviane behind him, clearly ready to fight.
Unfortunately, his armor was safely back in her room over Barb’s shop. And those jeans, regardless of how alluring Viviane found them, wouldn’t help him much here. Undaunted, Niall faced the foursome who had drawn their blades on them both, as though he was assessing their strength. Viviane wondered whether he knew any of them.
She glanced to Monty, garbed as always in shorts, T-shirt, and polar fleece, and decided they must look like a pretty odd group to the medieval eye. Monty already swallowed visibly beneath the point of a wicked length of steel. His eyes were as wide as saucers and he seemed uncharacteristically struck dumb.
Viviane stepped forward to argue with their assailants, but as soon as she stepped out of Niall’s shadow, the tip of a sword nudged at her chin. It was a large and particularly shiny blade—it looked well-honed and brought her to a full stop. Viviane followed the length of the blade to a grim-faced guard whose steely gaze was far from merciful.
“Niall,” she whispered.
He cast a glance over his shoulder and inhaled sharply. “Do not wound the lady.”
“Then do not fight us,” the guard retorted, pressing the blade against Viviane’s throat to make his intent clear. Viviane gasped and felt a warm trickle of blood on her flesh.
“Halt!” Niall insisted and raised his hands. He managed to stand near Viviane and she was glad of his presence.
The archbishop nodded approval. “This is much better. I feel safe indeed with your enviable command of this keep, Gaultier,” he nodded to the biggest guard. “Though no man can defend himself against witchery.”
“Witchery, my lord?”
“Aye, this is the condemned witch who escaped our own dungeon but a month ago. She has appeared magically in mine own chambers to wreak her vengeance, my emissary snared within her spell and her minion at hand.”
“No! That’s not true!”
“The lady is innocent!”
“I’m nobody’s minion!”
The archbishop raised his hands to his ears. “Gaultier, ensure your men are not so foolish as to listen to their lies! She has turned even Niall of Malloy against me and not a one of them can be trusted.”
“What shall be done with them, my lord?”
“They shall be executed three days hence. ’Twill give them time to repent of their wickedness and savor our hospitality.” With that, the archbishop made to return to his bed and the guards urged the unhappy trio toward the door.
How would her luck save her this time?
’Twas in the midst of her dismay Viviane realized someone else lurked within that great pillared bed.
“Oh, Richard!” a woman chortled sleepily from behind those heavy curtains, her voice low and nearly inaudible. Viviane straightened in shock, though she couldn’t decide why she should be surprised that this man who broke his word to Niall would also break his vow of chastity.
“I thought I had dreamed of you,” the woman cooed, then laughed sensuously. An elegant hand stretched out through the gap of the draperies, the skin flawlessly creamy. “You have become so cold while I slept so warmly here! Did I hear voices? Is something amiss?”
“Duty, my dear,” the archbishop purred as he joined his consort. “Duty, as always, must be tended before pleasure.”
He did something in those shadows that made the woman cry out with pleasure, the sound enough to make Viviane blush. Then the woman laughed aloud, her voice louder than it had been before.
“Oh Richard!” she cried. “You truly are a marvel!”
And Niall straightened with a snap. He pivoted and stared at the draped bed, a dull flush rising over his neck as he resisted his escort. The guards tried to pull him out of the room, but Niall shrugged them off.
“Majella?” he demanded, outrage in his tone. “Is that you?”
Silence came from the bed for a telling moment, then there was a rustling of linens. “Niall?” the woman squealed. “Niall, is that you finally returned?”
Viviane knew the blood left her face. Niall’s Majella was in bed with the archbishop? This couldn’t be a good thing.
A fulsome beauty bounced out of the bed, her copious charms on full display, and doing nothing for Viviane’s confidence in her own charms. She was gorgeous! Her hair was slightly more red than gold, its thick waves falling over her shoulder in inviting disarray. She was all curves and silky skin, the kind of woman no man could easily forget.
As Niall clearly hadn’t. The stricken look on his face told Viviane all she needed to know. The woman was decidedly pregnant, the sight erasing any doubt Viviane could have had of her identity.
This was the Majella who Niall had been so anxious to protect. This was the woman who held Niall’s heart in thrall.
“Venus rising,” Monty muttered incomprehensibly. Viviane glanced to him to find him staring at Majella with wonder shining in his eyes. In fact, all of the sentries were similarly enthralled by the sight of this beauty and Viviane felt not only abandoned, but very plain.
But Majella was staring at Niall, her features transformed with pleasure. She smiled, then she blushed scarlet. “Niall! It is you!”
Viviane was ready to dislike the woman, though the way her features softened with affection at the sight of Niall made it hard to do so. She looked relieved and delighted, a response to the sight of Niall that Viviane could truly understand.
Majella spun back to the bed, tugging a gossamer robe over her shoulders. “Niall, Niall is here. Oh, Richard, this is the most marvelous news! Niall is returned!”
She flung herself across the room to embrace the knight Viviane had once imagined to be her own. “Oh, Niall, I have been so very worried about you, for one never can tell what might transpire on such an adventure as yours.”
Majella planted a hearty buss on Niall’s cheek that seemed somewhat inappropriate as a greeting for the father of her child. Then she propped one hand on her hip and looked him over assessingly, her manner almost maternal.
“Look at you! You look to have been eating well enough”—she conceded with a pinch of his flesh—“but your garb is so very strange. Now, you must tell me…”
But Niall gripped her shoulders, typically cutting to the heart of the issue. “Majella, how long have you shared the archbishop’s bed?”
Viviane’s heart twisted. She knew it couldn’t be easy for Niall to witness his lover’s indiscretions, even if he had been indiscreet himself. After all, Majella carried his child, which wasn’t a small thing.
Majella blushed and her gaze flicked away. Viviane knew she was going to lie and was surprised when it didn’t seem as though she did.
“Well, ever since I came here, that day you left. Richard just swept us into the castle, it was absolutely marvelous, we have been spoiled to bits. And after all, you had told me to find a more wealthy man to ensure that Matthew has the training he desires…”
But Niall set the lady aside, his angry gaze fixing on the archbishop as the man stepped once again from the bed.
“You coupled with my sister!” he charged, incredulity echoing in his voice. “What manner of man are you, to take advantage of a woman in such a state as this?”
His sister?
The archbishop flicked one hand nonchalantly in Majella’s direction and chuckled. “She could hardly lose her virtue.”
“She is with child!” Niall roared. “I sent her to you for her protection!” He slammed his fist into his palm. “I expected you to ensure her welfare on account of my pledge to you! Did my oath of fealty mean naught to you?”
“She is well enough.” The archbishop shrugged. “My protection does not come cheaply.”
“You are a man of God! You are pledged to chastity! You of all men should be relied upon for good works!”
“I am a man,” the archbishop said grimly. “And I take what is freely offered. You may rest assured your slut of a sister was not coerced in any way.”
“Richard!” Majella gasped.
“You had no right!” Niall cried and lunged for the older man.
The guards snatched for him, but Niall moved too quickly for them in his anger. He was on the archbishop in a heartbeat, he landed two solid punches, one to the jaw and one to the gut.
The older man dropped to his knees before one guard leaped forward and beat a shield over Niall’s head. Viviane’s knight slumped bonelessly to the floor as the archbishop stumbled to his feet.
That man spit in Niall’s face. “Faithless wretch! Kill him slowly!”
“Nay!” Viviane tried to break free of her captor but was wrestled toward the door. Meanwhile, the guards dragged Niall across the chamber.
“But Richard,” Majella protested in obvious dismay. “What are you doing to my brother? ’Twas you who sent him on a quest, and now he is returned. He is a good man and you know it well. What is the meaning of this?”
The archbishop cast a glittering robe over his shoulders. He felt his jaw where Niall had punched him and granted the four of them a cold glance, before addressing the guards.
“My former mistress will join the brother of whom she is so very fond,” he said with quiet authority. “Let them become reacquainted in the dungeons—’tis all the time they will have together before their execution.”
“Aye, my lord.”
Majella’s eyes widened in shock. “Richard!”
The archbishop’s gaze hardened though he did not even deign to look at Majella. “And cast her brats into the dungeon as well. We might as well be rid of the lot of them.”
Majella paled. “Richard! You assured me the children were safe here.”
“They are no longer.” He surveyed her with icy calm. “This would have been a good day for you to slumber long, Majella. ’Tis a mistake you will regret, though admittedly, not for long.”
And he climbed back into his bed, hauling the drapes closed behind himself. Majella began to shriek, more guards came running, and Niall was dragged out of the chamber. Monty managed to take the distraught Majella’s elbow and she clung to him, wailing at Richard’s injustice and weeping copiously.
Children were herded from elsewhere in the palace, their protests mingling with their mother’s cries. The largest boy took one look at the scene and planted himself beside Niall, his expression grim for a child of his age.
And they were all marched to the dungeons that Viviane recalled all too well.
But through the chaos of it all, Viviane could only think one thing. Majella was Niall’s sister, not his wife or lover or lady. He had been worried about his sister and her children—and that was an awfully nice weakness for him to have. She worked her way through the throng to walk beside him, keeping an eye on how he was treated.
Maybe, just maybe, Niall was destined to be her knight after all.
Either way, Viviane was going to be the first person he saw when he awakened. And she was going to give him the chance to explain himself. It didn’t look as though they were going to have a lot of time left and Viviane wanted to spend it knowing the truth.
Odo looked up from his ledgers at the racket in the dungeon corridor and his eyes nigh fell from his head, so great was his surprise.
Not only had Niall of Malloy returned, and not only was the man garbed as a foreigner, but he had fetched back the witch Viviane herself. ’Twas well worth a look and Odo rose from his stool to peek at the passing party, somewhat annoyed to realize he would owe Francis at the alehouse a hefty sum. Odo had bet against Niall’s return and the odds had been long.
’Twould be an expensive debt.
But then he frowned at the realization that Niall was not only unconscious, but he was being cast into the cell with all the others. Odo drummed his fingers on his table, not impressed to see a woman heavily with child and a brood of children locked in, as well.
The guard who Odo did not like sauntered back along the corridor and grinned. “Another lot for the executioner. Faith, but that man never goes lacking for labor.”
Odo withdrew into his small chamber and retrieved his ledger. “Is that Niall of Malloy among their number?” he asked with all the innocent curiosity he could summon. Hopefully, ’twould pass under the pretense of needing the information for his register.
“Aye. You know him?” The sentry’s gaze was a little too searching for Odo’s taste.
He shrugged. “I thought he looked familiar. He labored here for a while.”
“Ah, before his quest no doubt. Well, the man is a failure, of that there can be no doubt. The one who looks about to calf is his sister, the children her brats, and they are all to die together.”
Odo frowned. “And the charge?”
“Sorcery. As usual.”
Odo cleared his throat, certain he must have misunderstood. “Surely not the children?”
“Of course, the children,” the guard sneered. “They teach them young, that kind, and one cannot be too wary.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you sufficiently wary, Odo? ’Tis said they have all fallen under the witch’s spell.” He leaned closer. “She seems to fancy small men, Odo, for her minion is one such. You had best mind yourself this night.”
Odo wriggled a little further back into his chamber. “Do you have their names and ages?”
“What?”
“For the register.” Odo tapped the book.
The sentry shrugged. “Nay, not I. If you care so much, you can fetch the truth of it yourself. I am to summon the executioner for the dawn three days hence.”
Odo nodded numbly, hoping the sentry would not guess how the bile had risen in his throat. The sentries marched away, jesting amongst themselves and Odo considered what he should do.
He liked Niall of Malloy, always had. A man could smell a man of honor and Niall had been one. Niall had insisted on taking responsibility for the disappearance of a witch who had surely beguiled him, a deed many a man would not have done. And Niall had sworn to make matters come right, to fetch back the witch.
Contrary to the sentry’s insistence, Niall had not failed. Nay, Odo recalled the face of that very witch and he had seen her in that party. Niall had succeeded, and he was to be rewarded with not only his own demise but that of all his blood.
Charged of sorcery, a laughable pretense for any who had ever known Niall of Malloy. The man believed in naught that could not be held in his own hands. Sorcery! Odo rolled his eyes before his hand stilled at the price Niall would pay.
First, Aaron Goldsmith had died, along with his loyal wife.
Now, Niall of Malloy was to share that fate.
And children were to die! Innocents!
’Twas wrong. ’Twas unconscionable.
’Twas time someone did something about the matter. Aye, Odo’s father had told him once that there comes a time in every man’s life when he must choose where he will stand.
As he opened his ledger and carefully inscribed the date, Odo chose.