Free Claire Delacroix by The Moonstone Page A

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