Once Upon a Romance 02 - As The Last Petal Falls by Jessica Woodard

suggest someone else to play nursemaid. Fain could get his bed back and the lass could torment someone else.

    “Absolutely not!”
    “Abso
lutely
not!!”
    Vivienne took a moment to glare at MacTíre for echoing her so emphatically, before rounding on Connelly once more. “I am
not
staying abed for two more days! That’s ridiculous!”
    “I don’t care
how
long she stays abed, but she isn’t doing it
here!
”
    Connelly glared at them both. “Hush yer mouths an’ listen ta sense. Lass, yer body’s had a hard time of it, an’ it needs ta rest. Ye canna go runnin’ ’round a drafty keep in a nightshirt, riskin’ givin’ that fever a foothold.”
    “But—”
    “But nothin’. Ye’ll keep yerself abed ’til I say ye can rise, or I’ll have MacTíre, here, sit on ye.”
    Vivienne shut her mouth, but glared at the little man in rebellion.
    “An’ as for yer objection, ye great oaf, ye canna be occupied in any other way. The storm outside rages, an’ we’ll be bound ta the keep for days. Ye might as well keep an eye on the lass, bein’ as how yer already acquainted.” Connelly’s eyes twinkled, but MacTíre didn’t look the least bit amused.
    “I want my bed back.”
    “Dinna be daft, man, the lass canna sleep on the stone floor.”
    “But she can sleep elsewhere!”
    “Excuse me.” Vivienne spoke with icy calm. “Are you saying that the room I am currently occupying is, in fact,
yours?
” She looked at MacTíre. When he gave a curt nod she went on. “And why, pray tell, would you bring an unconscious woman to your very own room, rather than an empty, unoccupied one?” Her voice was accusing, but MacTíre didn’t act at all guilty. In fact, he rolled his eyes at her, as though she were being ridiculous. What an odious man.
    “It was an error. I would have moved you, but then I discovered your arm was broken, and it seemed prudent to leave you be.
However
,” he gave the medic a hard look, “there’s no reason I can’t move you now.”
    “She canna be alone, man, in case the fever returns. Who would ye set to watch her, then?” Vivienne watched as the two men stared at one another, apparently engaged in a contest of wills. The question held some significance for them both, but she couldn’t discern it. Finally MacTíre shrugged, and looked at her ruefully.
    “I suppose I’ll bring a pad for the floor.”
    “Nonsense!” Vivienne wasn’t about to let them decide her fate without putting in her own opinion. “Surely one of the maids or kitchen women can sit with me. It’s highly inappropriate for us to be alone, anyway. There’s no reason for…” She trailed off at the look of amusement both men were giving her. “What? Why is that funny?”
    Connelly chuckled but didn’t say anything. MacTíre spoke up, his voice dry. “Our cooking is done by two large, shaggy brothers who learned to make campfire stews on their trips to the summer pastures with their family’s bighorns; and we’ve no maids to speak of, although little Billy Notter does his best to keep the tables clean and the floors swept in the great hall.”
    “Then what do the women here do?”
    Connelly raised an eyebrow at her. “Dinna ye ken, lassie? There’s nary a woman here. Yer the only one.”
    Vivienne stared at the men. “You’re jesting. What of your mothers, your wives, your sisters, your sweethearts? What of your daughters? Where are they?”
    MacTíre ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “A few of us are single with no families, but most of the men have wives and children living elsewhere. They visit them when they can.”
    “Why?”
    “Why what?”
    “Why do their families not live here?”
    He paused, and then spoke softly. “It’s a hard life we lead out here, and not one a man would wish on the people he cares for. The men come for honor, but they leave their families at home out of love.”
    Vivienne was silent. Albion had outlying keeps as well, and they were staffed by rotation out of