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

the army. It wasn’t an enjoyable duty, but her father saw to it that the keeps were well stocked and in good repair, and men never left their families at home when their turn in the wilds came. She supposed there might be a reason Toldas didn’t do the same, but it seemed like an ill-done thing, to force men to serve in places so barren that they had to leave their families at home.
    “I’m sure the king is grateful for your sacrifice.” She was trying to sincerely compliment them, but Connelly snorted and MacTíre gave her a bitter smile.
    “I doubt it, beauty, but it’s nice of you to say so.” He raised an eyebrow at Connelly. “I assume you have a moment in your busy schedule to sit with Miss Wellesley while I go speak with the men?”
    “I do
not
need a nursemaid. I’m not some babe in swaddling clothes!” Vivi hissed hotly. She objected to being laughed at when she was attempting to be gracious, and objected even more to the casual way MacTíre discussed her disposal without even consulting her. It was insulting.
    “Then consider it a courtesy ta me, lassie. It has been many a long day since I had a few hours ta while away in the company of a beautiful woman. Let me rest my weary toes, an’ beguile me with yer winnin’ ways.” He waggled his eyebrows at her in such a ridiculously suggestive manner she was tempted to giggle. Instead she gathered her most dignified air.
    “Well, since you asked so prettily,” she paused to throw a glare at the enormous, ill-bred idiot who already had one foot out the door, “I consent.”
    “Good.” Then he was through the door and gone.
    Vivienne stared thoughtfully at the closed door, pondering what she’d just heard. Connelly waited a moment, and then broke into her thoughts.
    “Yer lookin’ pensive, lassie.”
    “Tell me something, Master Connelly.” Vivienne turned to face the little man. “Why does Master MacTíre need to meet with the men, if the whole keep is merely waiting out the storm ?”
    “There’s always future plans, lass. A leader of men is never done with ’em.”
    Vivi’s attentioned sharpened. The jovial little man had sounded serious, almost sad, even. “And what kind of leader is Fain MacTíre, then?”
    “Imperfect, like all of ’em. Better than most. A bit prone ta broodin’, if ye want mine own opinion.” His tone lightened with his final remark. “Why might ye be so interested, my lost little waif?” His eyes twinkled at her, as though he had found something to tease her about.
    “Oh, no reason, I suppose. I mean, it isn’t as though I find myself alone and injured, surrounded by strange men, in the power of their leader. Why on earth would I care to know more about him?” she drawled.
    “I bow ta yer superior wit, lassie. How else may I satisfy yer perfectly reasonable curiosity?”
    Vivienne tried to focus, but her head started to ache. She knew there were other things she wanted to ask, things that had seemed strange, things that needed an explanation; but the harder she tried to remember the more her temples pounded. She lifted her left hand to make small circles above her ear, and Connelly clucked sympathetically.
    “Never mind, lass. Yer done in. ’Twill be time, later. Plenty of time, unless I miss my guess. For now, rest; I’ll be here if ye need me.”
    She tried to hold on, but Connelly’s hands soothed her head, and Vivi drifted away into blessedly pain-free darkness.

Chapter Seven
    Fain strode into the great hall, greeting the assembled men. Most of the keep’s inhabitants were milling about, having been notified that Fain expected everyone without an active duty to be there. He made his way to the table nearest the hearth and leapt atop it. Billy Notter wormed his way free of the crowd and clambered up to sit on the table at Fain’s feet, his own small boots swinging in the air. Everyone else fell silent, waiting for their leader to address them.
    “First of all, lads, I’m sure most of you have