Dark Rival (17 page)

"Deeply. William the Lion was a mortal man, a great an’ powerful English baron. Still, Elasaid wasn't meant to love a man, Ailios. Like ye she was meant to serve the Ancients an’ mankind."

Allie tensed. Suddenly she sensed the power of her mother's love for Macleod. It had been huge, consuming, the love one found once, if ever, in a lifetime. "Don’t try to tell me the gods willed Macleod’s death in some kind of holy reprisal for her daring to find love! And by the way? She loved my father, too." But she couldn't recall her mother's love for her father; all she could recall was her father's grief after her death. And she somehow knew that love had been a mere shadow of Elizabeth's love for her English baron.

Allie rubbed her throbbing temples. Her mother bad never recovered from William Macleod's death. She was certain. "Please tell me about my half brother."

"His name is Guy Macleod." He added. "He's known as Black Macleod. Most men fear him mightily."

Allie realized Royce was speaking in the present tense.

Royce put his arm around her. "I ken yer in so much shock."

She twisted and clutched his shoulders. “My math sucks, but he was born almost two hundred years ago. If he's still around that makes him godlike, too!" But it was a question.

"He’s a Master, lass."

She had a brother, a holy warrior like Royce. Allie held on to Royce and felt him hold her in return.

"Ye need to lie down."

Allie did not want to lie down. She wanted to think! Another brother...her mother the daughter of a god and married to a Highland baron in the thirteenth century, a man she had truly loved... her mother possibly fleeing the assassins of her family, into the twenty-first century...meeting her father and giving birth to her.

And a few days ago, her mother had tried to contact her. What did it all mean? Allie’s headache became explosive.

"What should I do now?" she asked desperately, clinging to Royce’s strong arms.

"There's naught to do now," he said firmly. "Ye need to rest. Tomorrow yer head will clear. Ye think too hard, Ailios. Let me take ye to yer chamber."

Their gazes locked. His power was the safest harbor she'd ever been in. "Why are you being so kind now?" she finally asked, embarrassed by her emotional upheaval. But her world had been turned upside down in the past few moments. “Where is Mr. Macho? Don't be kind if you don't mean it." She didn't know what she'd do if his cold, even cruel medieval side popped up just then.

"I had the same feelings—the same kinds of questions— ye have now," he said.

She grew more confused. What was he talking about?

"I dinna ken the truth of my ancestors until I was chosen." he said quietly. “I’ll never forget the shock."

He understood. Allie collapsed against his chest, it was a moment before his arms went around her. She closed her eyes and tried to think, but it was impossible.

"Ye may never ken the truth of yer mother's disappearance," he warned quietly, her head tucked under his chin. "She fled after the massacre. Mayhap she lived in other centuries for years. Does it matter, Ailios? Yer mother died in her sleep in her own bed. Ye buried her as a child. T'is the past. Let her rest in peace."

It took her an instant to rebut. “But she may not be resting in peace," Allie whispered. She looked up at him.

He was grim. "Ye need patience. We willna find the truth tonight."

Allie held on to him, their gazes locked. Her mother wasn't resting in peace—she knew it in that instant the way she knew she loved the medieval Royce as much as she did the modern man. Something was wrong—and for some reason, whatever it was, her mother had led her to Royce.

Royce had just said “they” wouldn't find the truth. He was in this with her. And she didn't care if it was his sense of duty or the vows he'd taken. “Thank you," she managed.

Royce hesitated. She felt it in his big, warm frame. Then he pulled her close and held her tightly, just for a second.

ALLIE SAT UP. It was the middle of the night, but she hadn't been asleep. She had been thinking about her mother and both of her brothers, the twenty-first-century one and the medieval one. She loved the former, Alec, even if he was a new soul like their father and even if he thought her soft spirituality silly. She didn't know the latter. Guy Macleod, but she damn well was going to meet him one day soon.

Royce was right. As far as her mother's life went, she might never learn all the answers, but she was damned well going to make sure her mother was resting in peace. Unfortunately she didn't have the faintest idea how to proceed.

Tension crept over her, darkly, with stealth.

Outside, the night was studded with white stars and a half-moon. Inside, afire blazed in the hearth, as if it were a winter night. Allie pushed all her musings aside, all her emotion, as wild as it was, and she focused.

Evil stalked them, not far from Carrick's walls.

She leapt from the bed, still in her white tank and colorful skirt. She skipped her sandals and ran across the tower. She didn't have to guess which chamber belonged to Royce, because she felt his power as she went. Like quicksand, it sucked her toward him.

But she would not relish seeing him in bed with someone else. His kindness earlier had been shocking, and she was afraid she had imagined it.

Arriving at his chamber, Allie only felt Royce. She was about to seize the door handle when it opened and Royce came out so swiftly that they collided.

He seized her elbows. "Evil"

"Human," she said quickly.

He stared at her, then lifted his head. She watched him sense the night. Then he gave up and looked down at her. "Yer senses are stronger than mine. I canna feel if they're human or deamhanain."

"They're human, but possessed. I can feel them on the walls. They re not inside yet.”

Royce's face twisted. "Ye stay inside yer room." He strode past her. He seized a bell cord and pulled. The bell began to toll, Bong...bonggh...bongghh...

“I need a weapon," she cried.

"Not if ye hide," he snapped, not looking back. He thundered down the stairs.

Allie followed, the stone ice cold beneath her bare feet. Evil and malice were seeping into the castle, but it was still only intent.

"I said ye stay back," he shouted over his shoulder.

Arguing was pointless. He was ruthlessly intent on the pending battle. Allie saw it in his flaming aura and she felt his power and purpose in the night.

In the hall, he donned both swords and flipped open a chest with weapons. Two men thundered into the hall. Allie reached into the chest as he said. “The walls have been breached."

Taking a knife. Allie responded. “Only six of them are possessed. Capture them alive if you can!"

He sent her a furious and incredulous look, and rushed into the night.

Ceit ran in with Peigi. ''What happens?" she cried, her reddish hair flowing to her waist, clearly having been asleep.

"Both of you should hide," Allie turned her back on them and closed her eyes and focused.

She felt them on top of the ramparts. She gasped as a knife went through a man, his pain flowing around her.

She opened her eyes and ran out into the inner ward. Above, on the ramparts illuminated by torches and starlight, she saw three possessed humans knifing the watch to death. The soldiers' cries faded.

Royce leapt onto the stairs, sword raised, six men with him. “A Carrick," he roared.

But the humans who'd just murdered his guard were not coming down the stairs. The walls were over two stories high, but Allie sensed their intentions. "Royce!"

He turned.

The three attackers leapt from the walls into the courtyard, landing below Royce, who was now halfway up the stairs, and just a dozen yards from Allie.

And she met three pairs of maddened eyes, glowing red. All evil was focused on her and their death lust rose up, its scent sickening. In that moment, she knew they were after her.

"Ailios," Royce cried, clearly sensing their evil need, too.

Allie gripped her knife, tensing.

Royce thundered back down the stairs.

One attacker leapt at her with his demonic power, crossing the entire dozen yards with a single bound, a dagger gleaming. Allie jumped aside and he landed on the ground, not far from her. He leapt to his feet and Allie crouched, waiting to dodge his next attack..

He smiled, teeth dripping saliva, and sheathed the dagger.

Allie started, realizing he didn't wish to murder her. He wished to seize her.

Behind her, she heard the furious exchange of sword blows. She felt male might and male fury- she felt pain. A man cried out, dying instantly.

Allie jerked and saw it was one of Royce’s men.

Her attacker reached for her with demonic speed, like a striking snake.

Allie leapt aside, but he caught her arm. and she was flung hack against his body so hard she saw stars. He was a giant, her head barely reached his chest. His strength was demonic and Allie went still. She could not struggle her way out of his clutches and didn't bother to try.

Dazed by the impact, she saw Royce violently behead one human monster. Three of his men lay dead at his feet.

The last of the monsters stood behind him—and as Royce flung his glance over his shoulder at her, the possessed giant struck.

It was déjà vu.

Two sword descending toward Royce from behind.. Royce shouting her name, blind to the thrust…her watching from a short distance, helpless to intervene.

As if the Ancients intended his death this way, no matter the time, no matter the moment.

Allie screamed, twisting in the man's foul, inhuman grip, as the sword sliced cleanly and deeply into Royce's shoulder. She screamed again, almost expecting to see his left arm fall to the ground, severed from his body.

Royce turned, thrusting. The swords met, screaming.

Allie saw his left arm hanging oddly, and she sought his pain—but felt nothing. Either Royce was too enraged and adrenalized to feel such a blow, or he was immune to the kind of pain that would cause other men to pass out.

And then he seized his short sword with his left hand, stunning her that he could use his arm at all. And he thrust the shorter weapon across the man's neck, slitting it. Blood sprayed.

Bidding heavily, Royce seized the dying man's ax and tinned to face her captor. His silver eyes blazed. He dropped the longs word and shifted the ax to his right hand.

Allie went very still.

She didn't feel pain now. She felt murderous rage.

And she felt her captor hesitate. His fear welled.

Royce smiled and it was terrifying. He was breathing hand, and still bleeding heavily. The upper part of his tunic was crimson. But it was the ruthless look in his eyes—the ruthless heat in his soul—that made her hold her breath. Nothing was left of Royce except a barbaric warrior.

He strode forward, still smiling.

Her captor's heart rushed and he pressed his dagger to her throat.

Allie choked.

"Draw her blood and ye die," Royce said, not stopping. He closed the distance rapidly; ax in hand.

Her captor hesitated, and Allie felt his fear escalate wildly.

"Ye die anyway,” Royce snarled, and he hurled the ax at them.

Allie froze as the blade whirled at them, whizzing through the air. The ax sailed over her head—she felt it brush her hair—and it cleaved the man's face in two.

He staggered backward and screamed, releasing her.

She leapt away, tripping, Royce strode past her and with his sword, he impaled the monster through the heart. Then he stood there, breathing hard, leaning on the blade, his left arm hanging uselessly now.

Allie got slowly to her feet.

He turned, jerking his sword free of the corpse. He sheathed it and looked at her, his eyes glittering insanely— like a warrior maddened from battle.

"Let me help you," she whispered, shaking. She wasn't sure the old Royce was present anywhere in the medieval warrior now. She wanted him to come back to her; but looking at him, she wasn't certain that he would.

But he was very badly wounded. Another man would be unconscious now. She had to save his arm—and his life.

But she couldn't find his pain.

Royce stared at her, his eyes hard and wide and bright. Allie felt small, female, defenseless. Then the hot silver rage began to glitter less furiously. That wild sparkle began to dull. She felt his frenzied heartbeat slowing slightly. He didn't speak but he was coming back to her and Allie knew lie was seeking sanity.

He breathed and said. "Did he hurt ye?"

"No. You're hurt, not me." She had to heal him, but she was wary. She wasn't sure what would happen if she walked up to him.

Royce nodded, panting, and turned to his men. Now that the brief battle was over, every knight in the garrison had surged into the ward, bearing arms. "There'll be nay more attacks on Carrick. Triple the watch. Take care of the dead." He looked at Allie harshly, his gaze still overly bright. Abruptly he strode past her.

His pain blinded her.

Allie breathed hard, shallowly, shocked that he was still standing. Then she ran after hint. Royce was still in a savage, warrior mode, but he was feeling the effects of that terrible blow and he was bleeding badly. Now that she could feel his pain, she was pretty certain his arm was partially severed from his body. He was just too enraged to feel it completely yet.

He stood by the table, draining the jug of wine.

Ceit and Peigi looked ready to faint.

"There'll be no more trouble this night," he told them harshly. “Bring linen, water. Good night"

Ceit didn't hesitate. She and Peigi fled.

Allie walked slowly toward Royce, now standing in a puddle of his own blood. That blinding pain went through her again.

Royce looked at her—and then tore his blood-soaked tunic from his body, flinging it to the floor. Allie bit her lip at the sight of his body—muscular, scarred and shockingly, fully aroused. He gave her a heated look.

He was still in the throes of bloodlust, she thought uneasily.

"Come here," he said. And it was the kind of order he'd give to one of his men.