Dark Rival (32 page)

Her eyes went wide. Her color rose.

"That's a taste," he said, "o’ what I may decide to give ye later."

Her eyes glazed with lust. “Damn you."

"And, Joan? Ye may summon me to court, but Carrick’s for MacLean affairs. I dinna like ye calling on me—ever."

Her flush became mottled, anger and lust becoming one. "Sometimes, Ruari, I hate you. "

He laughed at that. As if he cared.

"And maybe, this time, you go too far."

"Ye like it. If I served ye like the others, ye wouldn't be here."

"One day you will go too far," she panted furiously. “And, Ruari? Tonight the lesson continues.”

He smiled tightly. "Tonight, I'll be the one to decide if ye have learned any lesson at all."

She flushed all over again.

He was aware that his triumph was momentary, and he wondered how he was going to manage her that night. Sooner or later he’d have to play the stud. But she enjoyed other women as well as men—he might orchestrate an orgy for her, making certain she was so preoccupied that he was the one left out of her bed.

And then he saw Ailios.

Not in his mind, but standing in the corridor behind the hall, as pale as a ghost, except for the two bright spots of crimson on her cheeks.

She was furious and in that moment, he knew she had been spying on him.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

SHE TURNED AND VANISHED INTO the corridor.

He glanced at Joan, but she had paced to the other side of the hall, calling for her maids. She hadn’t seen Ailios. Ailios had seen him with the Queen. But it had been a matter of politics…He composed himself and it was not an easy task.

“I have matters to attend,” he said flatly. He wanted to explain his actions to Ailios, although he could barely comprehend the overwhelming need. He never explain himself to anyone. “But we also have grave matters to discuss.” And he was thinking about Moffat’s attack on Dunroch.

She looked at him. “We have very grave matters to discuss.”

He stilled, focused and intent, and lurked. As he had suspected, Joan was thinking about a powerful Healer – and how she could best use such power for her and King James.

“Yes Majesty, yesterday Dunroch was attacked by Moffat.”

Joan widened her eyes, feigning surprise. “Surely you jest!”

Royce wasn’t surprised to realized Joan not knew of the attack, but she had supported the bishop secretly. His tension rose, but he spoke casually. “Moffat be your cousin, but we have been at odds for many years. I believe he attacked Dunroch because o’ me, not my nephew. He has no conflict with Malcolm."

"I will see into this, I will have the Chamberlain of the Realm investigate the matter. As dear as Moffat is to me, he cannot attack my vassals at will." Her gaze narrowed. "Is it possible that you provoked my dear cousin, Ruari? After all, you and Moffat have been warring for years over land and cattle. I almost regret his having lands in the north, bordering yours."

He decided to retreat and he shrugged. "Perhaps some o’ my men raided one of his villages. I dinna ken. I will look into the matter, as well."

"Good." She stared at him. "Rumors have reached the court. Have you a powerful Healer at Carrick?"

"I have a guest from the south. Lady Monroe be kind an’ caring. She takes it upon herself to nurse those who are ill.”

Joan made a sound. “So you claim she is not a powerful Healer, one who can give life back to a boy crushed by dirt and stone?"

"Yer Majesty, she attended the boy, as did I. He wasna crushed to death. When we dug him from the rockslide, he was alive. T’was a miracle—God's work."

"Where Is Lady Monroe?"

"I dinna ken," he said, and finally, there was some truth in his words. But he suspected Ailios had gone to her chamber. She must have found someone, perhaps Aidan to leap with from Iona to Carrick. There was no other way she could have arrived at his home so swiftly, when he had left the island before her. He had ridden hard and fast to make Carrick as soon as possible.

"Find her and bring her to Us," Joan said imperiously. "Do so now." She turned her back on him.

Royce strode from the hall, very displeased.

He tried to sense where Ailios was. The moment he came close to the narrow spiraling stairs leading to her chamber in the north tower, he felt her pure, light power. Something soft and warm, as blight as she was, seemed to wash through his heart. It felt more than good; it felt like a huge relief.

He bounded up the stairs, dismissing such absurd feelings.

Her chamber door was open. He saw Claire with her and he started.

Claire looked at him, her regard cool and accusing.

Both women condemned him for the interlude with the Queen, he thought grimly. And he hadn't done anything except make empty promises and play her. "She was to stay on the island," he told Malcolm's wife.

Claire shrugged. "If Joan had come to see—and use— Malcolm, I would stop it."

"Yer husband would do what he had to do to save his head—an’ yers," Royce said coolly.

Claire smiled grimly. "Good luck. You need it." She walked out.

He finally looked at Ailios. She threw a mug at his head.

He ducked and it clattered on the floor. “So ye disobey even MacNeil?"

"Were you going to tell me that you and the Queen are lovers?” she cried, flushed.

He felt his own color rise. “The affair is purely a matter o’ politics," he began.

"Oh! Forgive me! Screwing her brains out is so very political!"

"I haven't been in her bed in months—in almost a year," he said grimly.

"I saw everything,” she cried.

He softened because she was so hurt. “Then ye saw nothing at all," he said flatly.

She made a sound.

He just looked at her and saw tears rise. Impossibly he wanted her to understand. Impossibly he wanted to take her in his arms. "Ailios, I dinna wish to bed her. Yer the woman I want in my bed."

She made another sound. “That's not what I saw."

"I dinna do anything except play her!" he cried. "She's my liege. Do ye think I can refuse her easily? If yer King wanted it, ye'd go to his bed an’ act pleased about it!"

"We don't have a King!"

"Then yer fortunate. Here, there are royals, an' even now, Joan may decide to take my head. She's nay very pleased. "

Ailios hugged herself. ''You're with me," she finally said, trembling.

He hesitated, almost ready to agree. "We canna be together. Last night was the proof. I willna hurt ye, ever, an’ I willna take away yer great power again."

"You've already hurt me, Royce," Ailios said.

He trembled, very close to crossing the room and sweeping her into his arms. "I dinna do as she wished. I dinna want her. I was thinking of ye, Ailios, not her, but I dinna wish to enrage her. I wish to keep my head."

She stared, her dark gaze searching.

"I have never lied, not once in all my life," he added softly.

She turned away, wiping her eyes, and she had never appeared as fragile or as vulnerable. The urge to protect her overcame him. She did not belong in this miserable time. Why did she have to love him? It was impossible, forbidden, and he was unworthy of her.

But even knowing till of that, he cared. He cared that she didn't really understand what he had done and why he had done it, and he cared that she understand how much he wanted her and that he had been acutely aware of hen the entire time during the encounter with Joan. He gave in and crossed the room.

She started.

He cupped her elbows. “Lass, I wish to avoid Joan. But again, I willna lie. To save my head, I will go to her bed."

Ailios inhaled. "Can she really execute you for refusing her?"

"Ailios, the Queen has ordered many beheaded for far less. Her will is law in Alba. I dinna ken yer world, but t’is the way of this world."

She trembled and reached for his shoulders. "I can't stand this. I won’t
 
share you."

Her words made his heart leap with what felt like exultation. He already knew, he could not, would not share her—but a liaison between them was forbidden. Eventually he would have to let her go. Eventually she would want to. But just then, he was fiercely pleased to hear her possessive statement. Just then, he wanted her loyalty and love. And what did that mean? He had already admitted a truth he had no wish to ever admit again—that he cared. To care was dangerous—more dangerous, in his view, than denying the Queen.

"I will try my best to divert her tonight," he said softly, aware that they had just weathered a very personal crisis. And that left him standing alone in her chamber with the most beautiful and pure woman he had ever known, a woman whose mere presence brightened any chamber and any soul—even his. His heart began a new insistent beat.

She stiffened, aware of his sudden change of interest. "Royce—it's only been a few hours, but I missed you so much."

He tried not to think about the shocking fact that he had actually missed her, too. As importantly, he must not think of her small, hot body beneath his while he drove into her tight warmth and wetness. And he must forget her extreme passion, which matched his exactly. But she took his face in her hands and stood on tiptoe.

"Ailios, dinna."

"Tough," she breathed. "You're mine.” And she kissed him.

He tried to remain still, but her words undid him. You 're mine. His hard body jerked and became fully attentive, clamoring for union and release. He fought the need to be with her, the urge to take her, dominate her. But she plied his lips sensually, seductively, inflaming him impossibly. Still, he refused to move or participate, he would not kiss her back.

She suddenly nipped his lip. The demand was unmistakable. And then the pressure of her mouth increased. He felt her blood screaming in her veins. He felt her need, acutely, as if it was his—which it was. She needed him driving inside her. He needed to drive inside her. Against his very will, he opened for her. She moaned and her tongue went deep. He thought of taking her to the bed, mounting her, teasing her. He thought of thrusting deep. He thought of La Puissance.

His mind turned blank, he wrapped her in his arms, bent her backward and took over the kiss.

"Hurry," she gasped.

Somehow, a degree of sanity left, he pulled away.

She gasped, shocked.

He walked to the far side of the chamber, trying to recover his composure and control. He leaned against the wall, waiting for the violent urge to move into her to dull and subside. He heard her panting behind him and thought about how this woman affected him as no other ever did. Was that why the Ancients bad chosen him, because he would not think twice about dying for her?

He said roughly. “After last night, I truly dinna trust myself, Ailios." He finally looked at her, mouth hard and tight.

"I trust you," she hesitated, trembling. "But I have my powers back, Royce, and I can't lose them again."

"Aye." He glanced away, with guilt. “Calm yerself, quickly. She has asked fer ye an' we need go down to the hall."

"What?"

That truth was like ice water. He took a few deep breaths and faced her. "She's heard about Garret."

She stared, then said. "What does this mean, exactly?"

"It means ye willna heal a single soul a single beast— not even a fly—while she is here."

Her eyes widened. "Why?"

"She'll take ye with her, back to court. She'll want yer powers for herself an’ ye'll be a hostage at court until ye lose yer powers—or until ye die."

She paled. “Royce, you re kidding, right?"

"Do I appear amused?"

"No, you seem really worried—and you're worrying me."

He knew he'd kept his expression impassive, but Ailios seemed able to read his thoughts. “If she wishes to take ye from here, I canna stop her. Ye’d have to go, or we could leap to another time, when she's nay royal—or when she's dead."

"Why don't we do that now?” she exclaimed.

"Ailios. I'm lord o’ Carrick an' all of Morvern. I’m a Master, but my people need me here an’ now. And the Code demands a Master live in his time. We canna pick an’ choose where to live." He smiled briefly. "If we leap forward a dozen years, I willna stay with ye. My place is in this time.”

"Oh," she said with dismay, "Damn!”

"Aye, damn." He said, "I told the Queen yer a kind, caring woman an’ ye prefer to attend the sick like any midwife."

"Okay," Ailios said. "When will this wonderful meeting take place?"

"Now.”

She slipped to her feet. "Absolutely not. I have to get dressed."

He did not understand. "Yer dressed.”

She gave him a very sidelong look, one arch and sultry. "Oh, no, this is not dressed."

ALLIE HAD PUT ON HER THE bombshell red Escada evening gown for the meeting. It was a strapless chiffon sheath that floated down her curves, except for the corsetlike bodice, and it was slit up the back. It was sexy, strong, seductive. Ceit had supplied medieval hairpins, and she had managed to pile her hair on top of her head, while leaving many loose tendrils skimming her neck, shoulders and face. She’d stained her lips with her lip gloss and crushed berries—and added that concoction to her cheeks. This was war.

She was upset and she felt threatened as she never had before. But she had never been in love before—and she had never come up against a woman with so much power. She was even jealous, never mind that Royce's affair had occurred before she'd ever known him. There was a bottom line—there was no way Joan was ever going to get her clutches on Royce again.

As she reached the threshold of the hall, she saw Royce standing grimly by the hearth. The Queen sat alone, looking to be in a snit, but her ladies surrounded her, clearly waiting on her every whim. Unfortunately she was blond, pretty and young. Fortunately no one had told her that dark red was an overpowering color for her. However, she was wearing some very real rubies. In the twenty-first century. Allie guessed that necklace was worth a half a mill easy. As determined as she was, she was also nervous. In the Middle Ages she didn't count for much. The Queen was going to hate being outdone. But that was die point, and it was too late to have second thoughts.