Viviane knew that she could never risk confiding the truth of her arrival in another here. She could not guess what they would make of someone who had not been chosen and guided to the hidden isle as was the traditional way.
Would she be expelled from Avalon, if she was thought to have no right here? Viviane shuddered despite the sunlight, just the memory of those cold dungeons enough for her.
Yet despite the threat full honesty posed, the prospect of infinite silence was not appealing.
Not in the least.
Would Viviane always be alone? She could not help but conclude that she would never be enough like these rightful occupants of Avalon that she could become great friends with any of them. She still missed chunks of any given conversation, although she had studied and tried to blend in.
These Avalonites simply thought differently than she. It was a mark of the fact that they were chosen to be here, she was sure of it.
What good was Avalon if she were doomed to solitude for all her days?
What if she also was immortal, simply by stepping on these enchanted shores? Viviane gulped at her drink.
What if she spent all of eternity in virtual isolation here, selling Barb’s books by day and writing fanciful tales alone in her room by night? What if she were doomed to live like this forever?
That was a grim prospect.
Viviane thought glumly of the knight she would never know, an indulgence she was granting herself with greater frequency. Perhaps she should have never made that wish upon her pendant.
What would have happened if she hadn’t? Would her knight have saved her? Swept her away? Defended her life and her honor?
Viviane liked to think so. He had certainly looked like a man who would do such a noble and bold deed. She smiled slightly, the realization that he was far, far beyond her horizons sweeping that smile away.
And it was too late for second thoughts.
Viviane took another hearty gulp of her drink and watched the sunlight sparkle on the sea. She gripped the rail with her right hand as the boat sliced through the waves. Her drink was safely held in her left, and she turned to glance over her left shoulder when Monty called her name.
“Viviane! Does Barb have any Thai cookbooks in stock? Paula wants to learn and I’m sure I like saw one there.”
Before Viviane could answer, something flashed to her right. She pivoted in time to see her knight - her knight! - jab a gloved finger through the air at her.
Viviane gasped.
“Aha! At your own right hand!” he bellowed, then dropped with a resounding splash right into the sea.
Viviane dropped her drink. She lunged after her Gawain but caught only a fistful of his cloak as he sank like a stone.
A thoroughly mail-clad stone.
And one that threatened to pull her overboard right after him. Viviane hooked her toes beneath the rail and bellowed for help.
*
Derek knew his eyes weren’t deceiving him, because he’d declined one of his soul mate’s near-lethal margueritas. Someone had to be sober, in his opinion, and as skipper, he was his own first choice.
All the same, he couldn’t explain the sudden appearance of a medieval knight to starboard. The guy seemed to pop right out of thin air. That knight hovered briefly in the air and, remarkably enough, seemed to know Viviane.
It made absolutely no sense.
But what happened after that made perfect sense. Medieval knights - men of any time or occupation, in fact - seldom levitated successfully above the surface of the ocean.
At least not for long.
The knight fell into the sea with a perfectly predictable splash.
“Man overboard!” Derek roared. “Trim the sails!”
Paula knew the drill and dropped her drink posthaste (he’d always suspected that she never really drank much of hers) and set to the task of lowering the sail out of the wind. He heard the splash as she cast an anchor overboard, but he was on the run.
“Please hurry!” Viviane begged. Derek was glad to see that she had a grip upon some part of the man.
Derek grabbed the life preserver and dove off the side of the boat. The ocean was cold enough to nearly make his heart stop, even at this time of the year. Derek kicked off his old deck shoes, surrendering them to the sea, and forced his eyes open. His heart stilled at the way the knight drifted bonelessly below the surface. The man’s cape was snared by Viviane, yet he just hung from her grasp.
Like a dead weight. He wasn’t even fighting.
Definitely easier to haul aboard, but not a good sign.
Derek broke surface, his lungs bursting, took a gasping breath, then dove down one more time. He quickly lashed the life preserver to the man’s waist and was relieved to see him rise slightly, despite the obvious weight of his chain mail.
It was the real thing, amazingly enough, and one hell of a bad choice for swimwear. Derek caught the man around the neck and lunged for daylight once more, his lungs aching for air, his muscles screaming at the man’s weight.
Monty and Paula cheered when he broke the surface, Viviane looked as though she might faint in relief.
“He weighs a ton!” Derek shouted, then began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
To his enormous relief, the big man almost immediately sputtered and shook his head. His eyes opened, then he turned to choke out all the seawater he had swallowed. Derek hung on grimly, one arm locked around the man’s chest, the other clutching the rope lashed to the sailboat’s side.
The knight’s gaze swiveled back to meet Derek’s, that green stare surprisingly hostile. “What manner of man are you to lock your mouth upon mine?” he demanded hotly.
Derek sagged with relief. The guy was going to be okay.
“A man who doesn’t like drownings to happen on his boat.” Derek grinned, then turned the knight toward the boat. “Go ahead, haul yourself up, cowboy. You can tell us later where the hell you came from - and maybe explain your choice of bathing suit.”
To Derek’s surprise, the knight did manage to haul himself up the side of the sailboat. It was no mean feat, given the weight of his mail and his wet clothing, which looked like it was made of really thick wool. That sweeping cape alone had to weigh more soaking wet than Derek did himself.
Derek followed suit, glad that everyone was fussing over the knight and missed the fact that it took him two tries to pull himself up over the rails.
He had to start doing those sit-ups again. A man looking at fifty couldn’t assume that the old body was going to take care of itself any longer. Derek had always been long and lean without worrying much about it, but - he surreptitiously pinched the flesh around his waist and grimaced - years of living well seemed to be finally catching up with him.
He must have run out of credit for good behavior.
The knight stood in the middle of the deck, his feet braced against the polished wood as he made a puddle of tremendous size. He had presence, you had to give him that, and Derek doubted he was the only one wondering at the breadth of his shoulders and chest. He looked as though he had stepped out of a Shakespearean play.
This guy really worked out. Derek hoped that his wet t-shirt wasn’t showing the little ripple that had taken up residence around his middle to serious disadvantage. He plucked at the wet cloth, trying to keep it from clinging too tightly.
Suddenly the knight fixed Derek with that piercing green glare. “You ask how I come to be here - “ he boomed, then looked about himself with obvious skepticism “- wherever this might truly be.” The knight arched one brow as he locked gazes with Derek again. “’Tis the doing of the witch harbored among you.”
And he pointed one thick, wet-leather-encased finger at Monty’s new friend.
*
Matters were not proceeding precisely as Niall had expected, even after he had stepped away from Majella and her provisions.
He supposed he had not fully expected the pendant to work its magic again. A lifetime of skepticism took more than eve
n Viviane’s unexplained disappearance to be completely dispelled. But any lingering doubt had been dismissed when the eerie light enveloped him as the last word of his wish crossed his lips.
That light was blue and chilly and altogether unnatural. Niall had been unable to see anything at all. ’Twas as though he had been struck blind and left on a windy hilltop in the same moment, a far from delightful sensation.
Added to this was the very unusual sense of having been taken apart and put rather inexpertly back together again. Niall felt all jumbled and tousled even before he opened his eyes and glimpsed Viviane’s familiar features.
Aha! His heart had leapt with painful enthusiasm at first glimpse of her smile - a triumphant skip, no more than that, for he could not be glad to see the woman otherwise. Aye, ’twas the portent of fulfilling his quest that sent pleasure searing through his veins.
Was it not?
Niall had little chance to consider the matter before his unexpected fall into the salty sea. The lean man’s unwelcome embrace was the next puzzling event in this rapid succession, followed by a complete lack of censure from these strangely attired people after his damning announcement of Viviane’s occupation.
Last but not least, was the witch’s own response.
“You’re here and safe!” Viviane cried and flung herself into his arms. Niall could do naught but catch her, though he stared dumbfoundedly down at her delighted smile. Indeed, he could not seem to shake the last vestige of moonlight from his thoughts.
She was glad he pursued her? What madness was this? Had she not heard what he had just said?
But then, he recalled she had been anxious to meet her fate before.
And she had insisted upon her innocence then. Niall stared into her marvelous eyes, and once again acknowledged an unwelcome seed of doubt. There was something in this woman’s clear gaze, in her delight, in her very presence that made him question anew all he knew of her.
Nay, she was guilty, as the archbishop decreed. He had seen the truth with his own eyes. Niall frowned, but the lady did not seem affected by his manner.
“I have been thinking of you ever since that day,” Viviane confided with that smile that could warm him right to his toes. “Though I never imagined that I would see you again, and certainly not here!”
Ah, she did not expect a God-fearing mortal to be able to visit her dark domain. That was telling!
Yet instead of feeling triumphant at this hint of proof, Niall was disconcertingly aware of the fullness of Viviane’s breasts pressed against him. Her auburn hair was loose, obviously designed to ensnare a man in unruly desire within its tangles, yet her gaze was as clear and golden as he recalled.
And as trusting. Niall’s heart clenched.
“I knew you were a gallant man,” she breathed, “a true knight if ever there was!”
Viviane stretched to her toes and granted Niall his second kiss in quick succession. This one was markedly more pleasant, though her lips barely brushed across his own. He told himself sternly that it should not be welcome in the least.
’Twas only that ’twas from a woman that reassured him that matters were as they should be. Aye, that was the way of it.
And he must remain vigilant against temptation, lest he fail to complete his task once again. Niall thrust the witch a discreet distance from his side and resolved to keep his thoughts firmly fixed upon his responsibilities.
Sadly, his gaze strayed over the witch’s alluring legs, which he could not help but note were bare to mid-thigh and beguilingly curved. Her kirtle was craftily constructed to display her charms - which were copious - and indeed, there was markedly little of that garment. She wore some flimsy manner of footwear which left her feet nigh fully exposed to view, and her toenails were crimson.
Blood red.
Niall swallowed, certain he had never seen any feminine frippery as alluring as those crimson-tipped nails. He stubbornly lifted his gaze, only to note the wisp of naught that flowed around her hips. Her kirtle was not only short, but ’twas uncommonly thin. A man could tear that garment off with his teeth, of that Niall had no doubt, and he felt an unruly desire to volunteer.
Of course, that was not why he had come, regardless of how delightful the legs of his prey might be.
This time, he must keep his mind upon his task.
With an effort, Niall forced himself to consider the remainder of the company.
A man there was, besides the one who had kissed him so fully, and another small woman. Niall scanned his surroundings hastily - though he did not intend to linger long, he was curious as to where Viviane had fled.
But Niall could not name this place. Indeed, ’twas so perfectly wrought that it could not be real. It certainly was unlike any corner of England he had ever seen.
Niall’s eyes narrowed. The archbishop was right - Viviane had fled beyond the beyond. And this place could not be all that it pretended to be. Nay, this was but an alluring guise cast over a the darkness of the netherworld. ’Twas intended to deceive the unwary.
Just as Viviane’s beauty hid her traitorous heart.
Well, Niall was wary enough for two. He skeptically surveyed the sky of vivid blue, the water as radiant as a glinting sapphire. The land stretched in great curves around them, though Niall could not guess whether ’twas a morass of islands on all sides or some single jut of land that twisted like a serpent.
The trees that clung to the land were starkly drawn, their boughs drawn to grow in one direction by an evidently strong and prevailing wind. They gripped the veined grey of bare rock with great presence and no small measure of stamina. Seabirds cried overhead as the waves lapped at the sides of their craft.
For they five were aboard what was clearly a ship, though ’twas unlike any vessel Niall had yet seen. ’Twas all wrought of gleaming white, the glimmer of the sunlight upon it so bright as to make a man wince.
“You know him?” demanded that second man. He was as sparse and bedraggled as an unkept dog, his manner little better. Niall assumed him a servant or a beggar of some kind, though his tone was most haughty.
“Well, sort of,” Viviane acknowledged, with a sly smile to Niall. Her grip tightened on his arm and her eyes glowed. His heart skipped a beat, though Niall told himself ’twas only because it had been overlong since a woman regarded him with such welcome.
Save his sister.
And Viviane herself on that fateful morn.
Niall scowled, hoping the witch would be dissuaded by the fierce expression that had sent warriors fleeing from before him in the past.
But Viviane was unaffected.
“He did save my life,” she purred and nestled yet closer to Niall. “Just like Gawain, from King Arthur’s court, who so nobly saved the besieged lady in his adventures.”
A murmur of appreciation echoed across the deck. The drenched man nodded and the other woman smiled. The bedraggled man folded his arms across his chest and looked displeased.
Niall felt the back of his neck heat beneath their admiration and felt the need to correct the witch’s false conclusion. “’Twas naught…” he began to protest, but the witch interrupted him.
“You see, he’s so wonderfully modest.” Viviane sighed and treated him to a smile so warm it could nigh melt the bones of a man unprepared against her allure. Even Niall’s resistance wavered. “He did save my life, he did!”
“And now you’ve saved his,” the tiny dark-haired woman declared with approval. She clasped her hands together and sighed rapturously. “Perfectly closing the circle and sealing your entwined fates. How wonderfully romantic!”
The man who had hauled Niall from the ocean cleared his throat pointedly. “Some others were involved,” he commented with a sharp glance to that woman.
They were a pair, Niall immediately concluded, for the woman’s eyes widened and she scampered to the man’s side to make amends. “Oh, of course! You were heroic, Derek, just the way you dove over the rail…” She sighed as though much enamored of the man
’s deeds and Derek exchanged an amused glance with Niall.
He winked and Niall knew not what to do.
In ordinary circumstance, Niall would have assumed they shared a manly jest over a woman’s approval, but still he could feel the imprint of this Derek’s kiss.
’Twas a situation rather outside of his experience.
And one of little import. Niall had a mission to fulfill. As Matthew insisted, ’twould be prudent to see matters resolved with all haste. Sooner begun, sooner finished.
Niall caught Viviane tightly around the waist, refusing to consider the price she would pay upon their return. ’Twas sympathy for her that had led him awry in the beginning and Niall was not a man to make the same error twice.
Niall closed his free hand around the moonstone pendant and took a deep breath, trying to compose a verse to wish them back where they belonged.
“Oooh, you’re soaked and cold,” Viviane complained as she pulled away from him with a shiver. Niall was temporarily disconcerted by the bold display of her nipples, taut beneath the thin and now wet cloth of her chemise.
Nay! He would not be tempted! Niall gritted his teeth and made to wish.
But the witch crowed with delight before he could summon a verse to his lips.
“You brought it!” She pried the moonstone free from a startled Niall’s fingers as her eyes widened in awe. “Oh, you wonderful man! I just knew that you had a good heart, I just knew that you were a true hero.”
She flung her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek yet again. Niall caught a disconcerting whiff of the scent of her skin, more feminine than anything he had smelled in years. The wind and sun had filled her hair with the smell of outdoors, yet a perfume reminiscent of the finest flowers teased his nostrils. His eyes closed, his hands fell of their own accord to the neat indent of her waist.
How long had it been since he tasted a woman fully?
Niall inclined his head to kiss her fully, his eyes drifted closed before he consider the wisdom of his impulse. But Viviane lifted the chain of the pendant over his head with nimble fingers and proudly dropped it over her own.
Time Travel Romances Boxed Set Page 75