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

me find some.”
    “Dinna want ta put up with MacTíre’s snoring any longer, eh, lassie?”
    “On the contrary, Connelly,” Fain practically drawled, “it’s the lass disturbing me. I need some peace.”
    Vivi bit her tongue on the vitriolic tirade she wished to unleash, and instead concentrated on seeming totally unconcerned with Fain’s jab. Connelly cocked his head in thought.
    “There’s a fair number o’ rooms that might suit, MacTíre, but they’d all need a cleanin’ afore the lass could sleep there.”
    “I’m not afraid of dirt, Connelly.”
    “No, lassie, but the bed needs a few douses of boiling water, if ye dinna wish yer pretty skin covered in wee bitty bites.”
    “I see.” She thought a moment. “Perhaps I could sleep here, then? There’s no bed, but I could use the pallet Fain’s been sleeping o—”
    “Absolutely not,” the current occupant of the pallet broke in.
    “Really! I understand you wanting your room back, but I can see no earthly reason for you to be possessive of the pallet. Can’t you be reasonable about
anything?
”
    “It’s not the pallet, Miss Wellesley, you can have that. It’s the location. You can’t be alone in the still room.”
    “Why ever not?”
    Fain looked her straight in the eye, accusation all over his face.
    “Because I know what Connelly keeps in that wooden cabinet, and I don’t want you to have access to it.”
    Vivienne stared at him open mouthed. She’d known he thought she was a liar, and possibly a charlatan, but she hadn’t realized…
    “You think I would hurt you? Would… would
poison
one of you?” When he just looked at her, grimly, she spoke again. “Why?”
    Fain didn’t answer her, but Connelly did. “Some men grow up mistrutin’, lass, dinna take it so hard.”
    Fain finally spoke, but it was to Connelly, not her. “I don’t recall asking you to share personal information about me.”
    “I dinna recall makin’ ye the keeper o’ my mouth, laddie, so dinna think ta rule it.” Connelly’s voice was mild, but there was no doubt in Vivienne’s mind that he meant what he said. “I’ll not spill yer secrets, such as they are, but I’ll tell the lass any open truth I care ta, an’ that yer a mistrustin’ fool is hardly a secret.”
    Vivienne expected Fain to explode, but he sighed instead. “I suppose you’re right.”
    “Excuse me.” Vivienne was shocked to hear her own voice come out sounding so brittle. “Master Connelly, would you allow me to spend the evening in front of your fire? That is, assuming you are not afraid I’ll attack you in your sleep.”
    “Aye.” The little man spoke to her but raised one eyebrow at MacTíre. “Ye can stay with me, lassie.”
    “Good.” Vivienne felt the hurt welling up in her chest, but she wouldn’t cry. “Then if you will excuse me, I feel the need to rest.” She started to take Connelly’s arm, but Fain moved to stop her.
    “Don’t be ridiculous, Belle, I’ll carry you. You can barely—”
    “
Don’t touch me,
” she hissed, backing away from him. “I
can
walk and I shall. I have no need of your assistance, Master MacTíre.”
    He jerked his hand away and drew his brows into a wrathful glower. “And if you fall?”
    “Then I will crawl.”
    Connelly held his arm out, and Vivienne took it, leaving MacTíre scowling after them.

Chapter Eleven
    Vivienne was having a horrible time. Connelly really did snore—a tremendous, rattling, wheezing sound that kept her constantly awake—and after a night of far too little sleep, she was woken bright and early by a loud pounding. The pounding, as it happened, was being caused by an enormous meaty fist, belonging to a veritable giant of a man, connecting vigorously with Connelly’s door. Vivienne felt her eyes grow wide at the sight of the young colossus who’d woken them, but Connelly merely scowled.
    “Marlplot! Blast yer fool’s eyes, what’s the meanin’ of all the racket?”
    “Sorry, Connelly.” The