Dark Rival (36 page)

Allie hugged herself. "You said you have spies in villages and the town."

Blackwood nodded. "His lands are vast. She could be hidden in one of the villages easily enough. The town of Moffat is large. She could be hidden in a cellar there."

Allie looked at Aidan, and then at Royce. No one was jumping up and down with optimism or excitement. "Why don't we just say it? We're searching for her here, now, but she could be in any time and any place."

Royce clasped her shoulder. "We will find her if she lives."

So much despair began. “How? How will we do that when he could have her imprisoned in ten hundred, twelve hundred, fifteen hundred, or even two thousand six? The possibilities are infinite!" And she thought that maybe the only way to find her mother was to agree to a trade.

"I will never trade ye," Royce snapped furiously.

Allie wasn't surprised by his passionate outburst, but clearly, Aidan and Blackwood were taken aback. Blackwood said carefully. “A trade and treachery combined might give us what we want"

"Never," Royce said fiercely. "Ye think to offer him Ailios—an’ then well follow her to Elasaid, when she's Moffat's prisoner? An’ then what? What if we canna free her? Nay! We wait to hear from yer spies. Then we begin our own search. We’ll follow Moffat
 
night an’ day an’ let him lead us to Elasaid -
 
if he has her. If she lives.”

"Ye dinna wish to be convinced," Aidan said so softly. Allie almost missed his words.

Allie turned away. Aidan was right. Royce didn't want to believe that Moffat had her mother, and she knew why. Because the only real way to locate her was through a trade.

Royce’s plan to follow Moffat to Elasaid might take forever. And if Moffat had her mother, she was pretty sure they did not have forever.

THREE DAYS LATER, Allie wandered over the drawbridge, but didn't go down the dirt road to the village. Green hills rolled into an eternity, framed by a blazing sun and an azure-blue sky, spotted with fluffy white clouds. Fat, woolly sheep dotted the pastures and the scene was picture-postcard perfect.

But nothing was perfect. Allie walked along the moat, head down, aware of the swans and ducks floating in the slow waters. Blackwood's spies had not uncovered any information about a female guest or a prisoner. They continued to search each village and town under the bishop's control.

Royce, Aidan and Blackwood had been tailing Moffat for three entire days and as many nights. Moffat had not left his lands. By night, he was at Moffat's Hall, by day, at the Cathedral, managing affairs in his bishopric. Allie sat down on the grassy ridge, knees drawn to her chest. How ironic—the master of the Scot demons pretending to serve God.

It was an Indian summer day, surprisingly warm, and Allie had shed her long-sleeved T-shirt. She still wore her tank and mini. Now, the sun warmed her shins and knees. Nothing could warm her heart.

How much longer could they wait for some real facts? Last night, she'd dreamed of Elasaid. It bad been a nightmare.

Elasaid had been scantily clad, as if in a modern nightgown, and she had been behind bars—or in a cage. Tears had stained her pale, gaunt face, Allie had woken up, determined to communicate with her, but the moment her eyes had opened, the vision had been gone. She spent hours trying to summon her mother back to her, to no avail.

She had not a single doubt that her mother was alive, in some kind of jail, and being treated terribly. This had to stop—and it had to stop now.

She sensed Royce approaching and glanced up. She hadn't seen him since the night before, as he’d been gone by dawn. A pair of riders were cantering through the village and she instantly recognized Royce's powerful crimson and gold aura. She focused, praying he had a found a clue to her mother's whereabouts.

We dinna have news.

Allie hugged her knees tightly to her chest, despairing.

Royce and Blackwood galloped to a halt before the edge of the moat where she sat. Royce leapt down from the chestnut charger he rode, handing the reins to Blackwood. Allie managed to smile at their host, while Royce removed an oilskin from the back of his saddle. Blackwood nodded at her and left, trotting over the drawbridge, leading Royce’s mount.

Allie just sat there, unsmiling.

Royce strode over, his face shadowed with his version of her pain.. "We
 
dinna learn anything. Ailios. Ye must be patient now.”

She shook her head. "I have no patience left." She refused to look at him, despair clawing at her. Royce was her hero, but this wasn't working for her. They weren't going to find her mother like this. Why did he have to be so damned protective! Why couldn't he agree to a trade—even if a phony one?

"Will ye begin to hate me for doing what I think best?" he asked seriously. "Will ye hate me for protectin' ye?"

She stared, trembling. Although he had insisted on separate rooms, not a day went by that he didn't look at her with so much hear, she began a total meltdown. But his will was stronger than hers, and he didn't come to her room. She knew he was guilt-ridden over taking her power, but that had been days ago. She'd been healing the villagers in the valley since the morning of their arrival, so he hadn't hurt her at all, not really.

She knew he was afraid of caring for her—and she also knew it was too late. He was in denial. That was okay. Allie intended to focus on their relationship—after they found Elasaid.

Allie slowly stood. “We will never find my mother this way."

He tucked the package under his arm, his face hard. "Yer way will see ye raped an’ murdered "

"Stop reading my mind," she cried.

"Ye keep thinking o’ trading yerself for yer mother," he accused. "That's insane, Ailios. Elasaid wouldn't want ye in her place!"

"So do you finally admit that she is Moffat's prisoner?"

He hesitated. “I lurked while ye slept last night."

She tensed.

"I was in yer dream with ye. Aye. I believe yer mother may be alive—an’ in Moffat's cage."

Allie went to him.

He tossed the package aside and wrapped her in his arms.

"Pleased she begged. "Why can't we do as Blackwood first suggested! Why not pretend to trade—and use that pretense to find my mother? I am strong! If he hurts me, I will heal—and quickly!"

Royce breathed hard, gripping her arms. “I’ll nay see ye in Moffat’s hands—ever. I'll nay see ye burned an' beaten, filled with his seed, an’ maybe with his spawn!”

Allie recoiled. Brigdhe's shadowy image washed through her mind. "Is that how you found Brigdhe?"

"Aye!" His stare was as bright and as hard as diamonds.

And Allie saw him kneeling over a hurt woman with titian hair. Suddenly she felt so much pain. And she saw the woman recoil. She saw her rejection, her revulsion and hatred. And she saw Royce backing away, ice-cold in his heart, his soul. Except for the guilt that began to sink its claws into him.

Stunned, Allie realized she had just seen into Royce's mind. She slid her hands to his chest. His heart thundered there. “But you left her,” she whispered. "You blessed her marriage to another man."

His face was hard, "Aye."

Allie shook her head, sympathy flooding her. “Oh, Royce. Tell me that was my imagination—tell me she didn't hate you for what happened."

He stared down at her, his face twisted beyond recognition. "She hated me. An’ I willna rescue ye from Moffat an’ have ye hate me that way, too."

She trembled, warning to cry for him. She clasped his face. "I could never hate you. I love you too much."

"Ye'd hate me if he raped an’ beat ye an' chained ye like a dog. Ye'd hate me, Ailios, yer hero, for failing to keep ye safe."

"No!" she tried, meaning it. "I would love you still."

He flinched. Then, stepping hack he said. "Well, I hate myself now for failin’ ye this way.
 
I hate seeing yer eyes black with sorrow, instead of light with joy an’ laughter."

"I'm scared,” she cried.

He took her by the shoulders. "Aye. But we have only begun the hunt. I mean my words, always. Ye must have patience now "

"I can't be patient. What's he doing to her, right now?"

"Dinna allow yer mind to wander so freely," he said, his grasp tightening. "It serves no one but Moffat."

Allie felt the tears begin to run. "I'm out of all patience and I'm scared sick,” she whispered, running her hands over his linen-clad chest. He tensed—and then his heart thundered. She smiled weakly and slid her hand into the neckline of the leine, over the hot skin there. She felt his pulse explode with excitement.

But he caught her wrist. "Our union remains forbidden,” he said.

"I don't care,” she cried, her urgency blinding. Beneath her skirt, wet heat trickled down her thighs. The little scrap of silk lace suddenly hurt her oversensitive flesh. And she slid her free hand beneath his tunic, scraping the hot turgid skin of his erection with her nails. His eyes widened; she traced the bulging vein running on the underside of the length there.

Dark color suffused his cheeks. “The watch is above and it's the light o' day," he said roughly.

Allie caught him in her hand. "As if you care."

He didn't move, except for his manhood, which leapt and quivered beneath her fingers. Their gazes locked.

Allie smiled and stepped closer, and she guided him toward her.

He seized her bottom beneath denim and lace, lifting her. Allie cried out, exultant, as he whirled, impaling her. She wrapped her thighs around his waist and begged for a climax. He caught her mouth, covering it, pumping deep.

She felt him come violently, hot and deep, and she wept in her own release.

Somehow he laid her down, never leaving her, his mouth fused with hers. The pressure was incredible, and just when she thought he’d break her body apart, another orgasm broke over her, in her.

"Come with me," he said, moving slowly now. "Another time, Ailios"

Allie wept and strained for him.

He tested her slowly, paused, rubbed her cleft and stroked deep.

Allie sobbed his name, shattering all over.

"Aye,” he moaned, and his body contracted violently a dozen times.

When they lay still, the sun remained high, but huge clouds had cast long shadows over the grass and the moat. Allie blinked, aware of his weight. He shifted and moved off of her, then jerked her clothes down, glancing upward toward the watchtowers.

Allie flushed. "Is anyone up there?" she asked in a whisper.

"Ye whisper now?" He was incredulous but he smiled. "Blackwood's men are soldiers, an' the towers are for the watch."

Allie grimaced and sat up.

Royce knelt, staring, and their gazes locked.

He was simply so beautiful—as beautiful as he was strong, powerful and virile. She had never loved him more and now, her heart wanted to shatter the way her body had done so many times.

He turned and walked to the oilskin he had dropped, retrieving it. Then he knelt beside her again, handing it to her.

Allie became still. "What is this?" she asked, but she knew. It was a gift.

Poker-faced, he said. “Open it an' see."

She couldn't move or breathe: she couldn't speak. Royce was giving her a gift. Allie took the package, her hands shaking, and then she tore at the strings, Royce smiled.

She didn't see, she felt it.

She pushed the skins aside—and the finest, softest emerald-green velvet spilled into her hands. She breathed hard, standing, holding up a long, beautiful velvet dress, trimmed in darker green and gold. Jewels were sewn into the trim. She thought she saw citrines and emeralds. She looked up, stunned.

Royce stared expectantly at her. "Do ye like it?"

She hugged the dress to her chest. "I love it." She started to cry.

"Then why do ye cry?" he asked. “Ye hate it.”

She shook her head overcome. “It's the most beautiful dress I have ever seen." He smiled. "Really?”

"Read my mind,” she cried, and she rushed into his arms. "Thank you!” She kissed him. "Thank you.” She kissed him again.

He laughed. The sound was stunning—warm and rich but light and bright—and Allie realized she'd never heard Royce laugh before. "If a gown will make ye so hot, I’ll buy ye dozens," he teased.

She somehow smiled, clutching the gown. "I'm not hot. I'm happy."

"Yer always hot," he said quietly. "Yer always happy. I have never known anyone as happy."

Allie just stared.

He smiled ruefully. "We have amused the entire watch enough for one day. Let's go in. lass."

ALONE IN HER CHAMBER Allie put the gown on and paused before a looking glass. It had a low, square neckline and then fell softly to the floor, skimming her body, and it fit very well. The color made her appear radiant. But then, she had been well loved—and she was in love. And there was no more doubt that Royce loved her in return.

He could deny it and pretend whatever he wanted, but his actions, his behavior, his concern, said it all. Her heart ballooned. She would treasure this dress forever...her very first gift from him. Then she tensed, fear stabbing at her, and she looked up into the mirror.

Moffat smiled at her.

Allie froze. Her heart beat hard, swiftly. In real alarm, she slowly turned—but the golden demon did not stand behind her.

She glanced at the minor again. Only her own reflection greeted her.

She inhaled and began to shake. Had Moffat just tried to communicate with her?

Elasaid was in great danger, and she couldn't go on this way.

The beauty and joy of what she had just shared with Royce had vanished, slipping into a cherished memory. Allie felt ill. She loved Royce with all of her heart and all of her soul, but he wasn't going to agree to a trade, even if it was a trick. He was simply too protective.

She hated defying him. She had even given her word to obey him. But he hadn't forbidden her from finding her mother.

He was going to be very angry if she did what she felt she had to do.

Allie went to the window and focused on the devil's right band. Instantly Moffat’s smug, smiling image filled her mind, as if he had been waiting for her. He stood in the same room she’d seen before, but he looked out a window that faced south.