Dark Rival (27 page)

His color rose. "I'll nay deny I need ye in my bed—" "Stop! I wasn't referring to sex and you know it." Flushed, he shook his head. "Yer a foolish woman if ye'll start thinking of ways to heal my heart again!”

"Will you ever respect the privacy of my thoughts?"

He gave her a bold look. “Ye like the invasion."

Her body reacted to his deliberate choice of words. "In a way, I do. It makes communicating with you very intimate. But if you knew that, you wouldn't be so eager to read my mind all the time."

"To protect ye, t’is best I ken what ye think."

"Liar;" she said softly. "You can't help yourself. You read my mind the way you look at me—you undress my thoughts with a single telepathic thrust the way you undress my body with a single physical glance."

His face hardened. "Do ye wish to ken why they call me Black Royce?"

She hesitated. "I think you intend to tell me, regardless."

"Because my heart was blackened long ago.”

"Because of what happened to Brigdhe?"

He paled.

Allie prayed she hadn't gone too far. “I pried. I asked Malcolm about her. Royce, it wasn't your fault.”

He had recovered his composure. His eyes were cold. "I willna discuss my wife with ye."

Allie retreated. “I am so sorry about what happened. And I will respect your privacy."

He stared and she stared back. Then he nodded. "Good."

Allie turned away and breathed deeply, in relief. She had better tread with care on that particular subject. She slowly turned and walked over to him., beginning to smile using all of her feminine power. “Please forgive me?" she asked softly, laying her hand on his chest.

"There's nothin' to forgive. Ye like to talk an' ye like me. So ye spoke to Malcolm. My past is hardly a secret." He shrugged as if indifferent now.

Allie managed not to sigh. Until Royce gave her his heart, lie would always try to turn the tables on her. He probably did so instinctively. “In my time, people talk a lot, about everything, all the time, men included.”

He stepped away from her so her hand fell from his chest. "That must please ye."

Now she shrugged. "It's a different world."

"Ye must miss yer home."

Actually, Allie hadn't thought about home at all since meeting Royce at the fund-raiser. Since the moment he'd appeared in South Hampton, she'd become completely and irreversibly caught up in his life and his Fate.

He smiled, pleased.

But now, she thought about her father and Tabby, Sam and Brie. They had to be worried sick about her! At some point, she had to figure out how to set a message to them. "I need to learn how to read your mind," Allie said. "But I think I can read one thought. You're not still planning on leaving me here, are you?"

His smile vanished. "Nay," he said. “Ye needed me today. Had I left yesterday, ye'd be in Moffat's hands."

Relief surged. “I did need you today." She smiled brightly, a cover-up, for she was trying not to think about Moffat's lust and what he intended for her. But her gut roiled. No demon had ever frightened her so before, but then, no demon had ever made her his prey. She wouldn't mind never laying eyes on Moffat again.

"Ailios.” His sharp tone made her meet his hard uncompromising gaze. "Ye won't be apart from me until Moffat is dead."

More relief arose.

"He won't take ye,” Royce said coldly. "I willna allow it."

Allie nodded. "I know you won't."

As she saw his set expression, his warriorlike resolve, a vague image of another woman crept into her mind, followed by the whisper of her name. Brigdhe.

His wife had been captured by his demonic enemy.

And the demons wanted to capture her now.

And Allie saw, in that single stunning moment, the truth.

Royce was afraid for her because of what happened to his wife.

Royce strode past her, shoving open the door. "I'll take ye to the chapel" he said, flushed.

And she knew she was right.

ALONE IN THE CHAPEL, Allie reached out to the dead.

Confusion, anguish and sorrow wafted in the air, making It feel thick and heavy, Having been so suddenly and violently killed, their souls lingered nearby, a tangible presence, clearly uncertain as to whether to leave their loved ones behind, unwilling to move on. So much energy came from the recently dead and Allie knelt, trying to sort through the various roiling emotions. She wanted to heal each and every confused soul.

Allie identified the first of the dead, a very young, newly wed man. His name formed in her mind—Thormond—as did his pale, red-haired image. She knew he was afraid to leave his bride, and as she lit a candle for him, she began to pray.

She called out to the Ancients, one by one, asking them to heed her and to help her ease the passage of the dead into the next world. When she felt certain that the old gods had gathered and were listening she turned her attention back to the dead young man.

She blessed him and his wife, reassuring him and encouraging him to go to the next life. She could feel his youth, not just in physical years, but in soul lifetimes, and she knew he would soon find rebirth, Allie prayed until she felt the confusion and uncertainty subsiding, until she felt his swirling energy soften. A moment later, she felt his presence dwindling, and then it was gone.

She managed a smile and wiped a tear from her face. She would call on Thormond's wife tomorrow, Then she turned to the next hovering soul, this man far older but just as reluctant to leave his family and friends.

Many hours later, Allie stood, feeling shaky. The chapel was empty now, every soul sent on his or her way; two of the dead had been women, inadvertently killed in the attack. Moffat had to be stopped.

She stepped outside into a blushing dawn. Royce was sitting on the stairs leading up to the ramparts, waiting for her. Her heart turned over hard as their gazes met. As she walked over to him, he stood.

She saw the question in his eyes.

"I'm fine. It took some time to get the gods attention— and to send everyone on their way."

"It took all night," he said flatly, his gaze still searching. "Did ye try to heal every lost soul?”

"Were you listening to me?"

"A bit."

"They all needed me. Royce"

He shocked her by leaching out and pulling his arm around her. "Will ye nest now?"

She leaned into his magnificent body, then gave in and turned, wrapping her aims around him, her cheek against the flat, hard lower edge of his chest. He hesitated and then his arms engulfed her. Allie stood still, breathing in his power, his essence, his scent, and relishing being in his arms.

"Does anyone ever pray for ye, Allies?" he asked softly.

She nuzzled his chest, the linen rough beneath her cheek. "Who on earth would do that?"

His grip tightened..

Allie felt his heart pick up a new, stronger rhythm. "I wasn't put here for myself, Royce. Like you, I was put here to help others."

He was silent.

Allie thought about the intimacy of the moment. They were alone together and she was in his arms, in a silent dawn filled with the light of both the rising sun and the full moon and his concern was just as evident now as it had been earlier. I am no longer alone, she thought and she smiled against his chest.

They had been through so much in such a short time. They had survived so much together. They weren't quite lovers and they were far more than friends. And no matter what mode he was in, Allie knew she could count on him.

"Tell me about the future," he said hoarsely.

"What?" she asked surprised, pulling back to look up at him.

He made a derisive sound, releasing her. He folded his arms across his chest and stared tightly down at her.

Allie felt her heart race. ''You want to know about the time we spent together?"

His expression threatened to crack. "Aye." She was stunned and thrilled. "Let's sit,” she said. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know."

CHAPTER TWELVE

ROYCE SIMPLY STOOD, his arms folded almost defensively across his chest.

So Allie sat on the steps he'd vacated. "What do you want to know?"

His gaze was intense. "Everything.”

Allie realized he wanted every single detail of their time together—even the time in bed. Her heart lurched, and her body became terribly hollow. "Where do you want me to start?" she asked slowly.

"How did I find ye?"

Allie wet her lips, his gaze unwavering upon her. "It was as if you knew I was there, at Carrick. I was waiting for you in the hall with a glass of wine. I didn't know you were from the future—I was expecting my golden warrior from this time, the same man who had appealed to help me fight the demons in South Hampton the night before. You drove into the courtyard in a black Ferrari and the moment you got out of the car, you looked into the window at me—as if you could see me, which you couldn't possibly."

His nostrils flared. "I’d ken ye were there. I'd sense yer white power—yer purity, yer beauty… yer heat."

She inhaled, desire pooling. "You knew I was there, all right. You came into the hall like a man coming home to his bride."

Royce stared, his gaze now silver. "I dinna think I’d forget the date."

Allie was bewildered.

"I left ye in my home on
September 6, 2007
. I wouldn't forget such a day, ever."

She stood and hugged herself now, terribly serious—and acutely aware of the tension throbbing between them. It was so easy to feel his pounding pulse. “Now I understand, because when you came in, you greeted me without a pause."

"And ye were pleased to see me?"

She nodded, smiling briefly. “I couldn't wait. I couldn't wait to see you, to make sure you were real and to be in your arms—and in your bed," she said softly.

His eyes blazed. “Ye dinna ken I was my future self?"

"I was confused—but your aura was the same. Still, you had such short hair—you looked older—but I knew it was you.”

"And?" he demanded when she paused.

"You asked me if I wanted supper. I said no. You dismissed the housekeeper. I asked you if you had a brother and you said no. And then I asked if you had rescued me the night before."

He stood so still he might have been a marble statue, but he was hardly made of stone. His aura blazed with red desire, and his leine billowed, exposing that desire.

She whispered. "You said you rescued me, but not the night before. You said you'd helped me over five hundred years ago."

Royce didn't move.

She felt moisture dripping between her thighs. "You took my glass of wine away and told me I talk too much." Allie trembled. “And you told me you'd waited five hundred and seventy-seven years for me."

He made a harsh sound. "And?" he demanded.

"You took me in your arms—you kissed me with your tongue in my throat—and then I was against the wall, and you lifted my thigh and your trousers ripped," she managed.

He stared and she stared back.
 
“How much pleasure," he finally said, “I did give ye?"

"So much," she whispered. "More than any man ever. We had sex in the hall there against the wall and then you took me to your bed, and we made love all night." Her heart raced madly now. "I must have come a dozen times. So did you."

He breathed hard.

"And in the middle of the night," she said "you held me and smiled and we talked about the Masters and the Brotherhood."

His eyes went wide. "I talked to ye while we were in bed?"

She nodded. "For quite some time."

He turned away from her; as if shaken.

Allie tried to find some composure. It wasn't easy when she was now so acutely tuned in to his lust, which seemed to match hers completely. "You were very talkative— compared to now. And you weren't afraid to smile, either."

He faced her, eyes wide and searching. “T'is the truth!" he exclaimed.

She nodded. “Surely I'm not the first woman you’ve had a conversation with during sex?"

"The bed is for sleep or sex, nay for speeches."

Allie felt bug-eyed. "You've never cuddled and chatted with a woman in bed before?"

"Never," he snapped. Then, cheeks flushed, he asked. "Did I tell ye I love ye, too?"

Allie went still.

And he knew. His color diminished, “I dinna say the words."

It was hard to confirm the terrible truth. “No, you didn't, not even while dying. But yon didn't have to. Because I saw the love in your eyes.”

He shook his head fiercely. "I couldna become such a fool in old age!"

Allie didn't like this. “For God's sake, Royce, falling in love is wonderful, not foolish."

"Aye—for an ordinary man."

It took Allie a moment to respond. "Malcolm has Claire."

"And I pray every day she willna suffer for it. Every day, I pray Malcolm willna regret his choice."

In
 
that moment, she felt his thoughts go to a featureless woman with titian hair. ''This is about Brigdhe!"

His eyes blazed. "I took vows. I follow the Code. There's no room in my life for foolish sentiment."

Allie shook her head. "Earlier I realized you're afraid for me because of what happened to her. But I am not her! I am stronger! And if this is why you are trying to avoid a relationship—"

He cut her off. “Yer nay my wife—or my love—and ye’ll never be either," he said savagely.

Allie recoiled, hurt to the quick. He had loved his wife. And even though Allie felt terrible for what Brigdhe had been through, and even though that had been eight centuries ago, she couldn't stand how much he had loved her— and that he refused to open his heart to her now.

"Ye'll never have my heart," he said.

She covered her aching chest with her hand. Did he know
 
how cruel he was being?

Then he said harshly. "Yer a Healer, Ailios, an’ ye belong to the world, not to any one man.”

She trembled. Even she knew that was her Fate. With that, he whirled, leaving her alone in the dawn.

IONA SPARKLED in the midmorning sun, its gleaming beaches as pale as pearls.

Allie stepped from the galley without help, trembling with excitement. She'd spent the few hours since dawn torn between despair over Royce's determination to avoid her, and her own determination to break through the walls he'd erected around his heart. She had despaired over the apparent depth of his love for his dead wife too. Apparently Brigdhe was a rival after all, even as a ghost.