Dark Rival (33 page)

Royce turned.

Allie tensed, unable to smile, waiting for him to react to the sight of her prepared for a more subtle version of an all-out, hair-pulling, nail-stabbing cat fight. She wanted to blind him to the other woman. She needed him to look at her and become oblivious to Joan.

His gray gaze widened. Then it turned bright and hot, sliding from her head to her toes.

She smiled at him, just a little, relieved that he appreciated her in the dress. But he met her gaze, his face turning hard with disapproval, all male appreciation gone. He knew she'd chosen the dress to outshine the Queen.

Are ye mad to provoke Joan so?

Allie started, for an instant thinking she'd heard him speak. But he hadn't spoken and she had been imagining it.

The Queen had seen her. She stood, her gaze going wide and incredulous. And she looked at Allie almost exactly as Royce had. A flush of anger began.

She wasn't happy about being bested. Allie thought. She trembled. She had won this round, but it didn't feel so great and there was a long battle ahead.

"Yer Majesty, this is Lady Monroe," Royce had reached her side, and he sent her a warning glance. He also clasped her shoulder, urging her to get down on her knees.

Allie got it. She was to behave. Well, her behavior depended on the oversexed Queen. Allie knelt. It had become surreal, as if she were in a fifties movie.

"Ah, well, now I begin to understand your lack of performance, Ruari," Joan said with cool disdain. "You did not mention to Us that your guest is young and somewhat pretty. You may rise, Lady Monroe."

Somewhat pretty? Allie tensed impossibly. Those were fighting words. She reminded herself that she was a lot prettier and slimmer than the Queen. Allie rose, and met the Queen's direct, seething gaze. In that instant, she knew Joan Beaufort hated her as much as she hated Joan.

"In fact, your guest is pretty enough to wait on Us,” Joan smiled triumphantly at her.

"Like hell!" Allie gasped, stunned. Did the Queen think to turn her into an actual servant?

Royce seized her arm, his jaw hard.

"What does the wench mean?" Joan demanded.

"She means that serving Yer Majesty is her greatest wish," Royce said flatly. "She would be honored, but Lady Monroe has been sent to me by her guardian. I canna release her into another's care, not even Yer Majesty's. I am sworn as her guardian now."

Joan laughed. “Then perhaps We will take over as guardian," she said bluntly. "Oh, Ruari, do you think Us a fool? You have taken her to your bed, and you do not wish to give up such temptation.”

His face never changed. “I have been so involved with estate affairs, I dinna have time for temptation. I have barely spoken to Lady Monroe since she came to Carrick, but a few days ago."

"We did not ask if you had spoken to her—We are certain you barely speak to her. You are a man of few words. But We are certain you are enjoying Lady Monroe's attentions in your bed, Joan said with displeasure. "And you will have to find a new mistress, if We decide she will serve Us instead.”

Royce's smile was cool. The deference vanished from his tone. "Do ye come to my home to ask about my privy affairs?"

Joan stared at him. Her blue gaze sparked. It was a moment before she replied “We ask now. We do not care for another lover to interfere in Our stay here."

"Lady Monroe willna interfere in yer stay, Yer Majesty. I would hardly be such a fool,” Royce said flatly.

"But We think she has already interfered, as your greeting was lackluster after such a long absence on your part," Joan shot, and the powerful woman was suddenly peeved in a completely feminine way.

"Then I haven't understood,” he said softly. For I believed ye got a very proper greeting. But then, I am a patient man."

Allie felt like kicking him, hard.

Joan flushed. "We are very patient, as well—when it suits Us."

"Ah, well patience may be a small price to pay for what Yer Majesty truly desires.”

Tension sizzled in the room.

Allie choked, Joan was as hot as a woman could be, and Royce was promising her a night of passion. She knew he was treading a fine line and that he had to promise her what she clearly wanted—because this made Joan a woman, not a royal. But there wasn't going to be a repeat of what she had witnessed earlier. Somehow she was going to thwart the damn slut first.

Joan stared at him for another long moment, and then turned her gaze to Allie. "You will not interfere with Our desires.”

Allie felt her blood pressure soar. She somehow smiled sweetly. “I can hardly compete with the Queen of Scotland" she said. "After all, I am only somewhat pretty.”

Displeasure crossed Joan's pale face.

Royce stepped between them. "Lady Monroe means her words, Yer Majesty. She willna cross Yer Majesty."

"Lady Monroe needs to learn how to speak to her Queen,” Joan said tightly. "We do not care for her tone of voice—or her gown. We should like it for Us."

Allie blanked. What?

Royce took her arm firmly. "She is pleased to give ye the gown as a gift."

Allie choked. The damned Queen was going to take her dress!

"What did she say?” Joan demanded.

"She said, “With pleasure”” Royce returned.

Allie told herself to count to ten. She did not even get to two. "It won't fit her," Allie said, meeting Joan's gaze.

Joan turned red. "Come before Us, Lady Monroe " she snapped.

Allie knew she had to obey, even without Royce’s glare. She held her head high and walked forward, feeling as if she were on the way to the guillotine. If Joan wanted the dress, there was no way to refuse. But then, why not give her the gown and watch the seams burst as she struggled to put it on? And how had Royce ever wanted that nasty woman? "I am very pleased to give you the dress,” she began.

"We have not given you permission to speak,” Joan said.

Allie shook with anger. Behind her, she felt Royce trying to silently tell her something. Ailios. Had she heard him thinking her name?

"We do not care what pleases you," Joan said, two spots of pink on her cheeks. "And We take what pleases Us, whenever it pleases Us.”

Dinna speak.

She started. Had she really heard that?

Aye, ye listen closely to me.

Royce was communicating with her. A thrill began, never mind the witch bitch Queen. Somehow, she kept silent.

“Tonight, we will take your lover to Our bed," Joan smiled maliciously at her.

Allie lost her desire to try to be subservient. She opened her mouth and heard Royce before she got a word of protest out.

Dinna speak.

She breathed deep.

I willna bed her.

He meant it, Allie thought. It was a promise. She was so relieved that she trembled.

"Speak," Joan ordered.

She inhaled trying to control her temper. She knew she had to play along with Joan's need for power and control no matter how humiliating it was, but Joan needed a little comeuppance. "Then you are in for the time of your life! There is nothing and no one as good as Royce in bed, is there?”

Joan’s eyes widened.

"I mean—“her fists clenched. "He pleasures you all night, doesn't he? Again and again and again, from supper to dawn? And even when the sun is up, he still wants more?" Allie hoped Royce did not screw the Queen the way he did her. She was counting on it.

And when Joan's gaze flickered with more displeasure, she knew she was right. "We are always too pleased to care about the time, Allie smiled grimly again. "And afterward, of course, is the very best part." She turned her smile sugary sweet.

Ailios, cease.

Allie ignored him. "The very best part!"

Joan seemed incapable of smiling. "What do you mean?”

She blinked innocently. “I mean that the best part is afterward, when he holds you and whispers how much he loves you."

Royce choked.

Joan was red.

Allie just kept smiling. Take that, you witch! He loves me.

Joan became enraged. "How dare you speak to Us in such a manner! How dare you claim that Ruari cares for you— and not for Us! We are his liege! He has sworn homage to Us on bended knee! Have you no care for your Fate, Lady Monroe?"

Dinna speak a single word!

And as Allie heard his warning, she felt his tension. And she didn't blame him. She had gone too far, but this woman was impossible. Tyranny or not, it went against her nature to simply take her abuse and grovel at her feet. But that was what she had to do, damn it, because there were no civil rights here. And what did outshining the Queen really accomplish except to piss her off?
 
I should have held my temper, Allie thought.

Aye, ye should have, and ye must grovel now!

Allie inhaled. “I am sorry if I have offended you. I have foolishly fallen in love with Royce. But I understand he's your lover and how I feel doesn't count.” She now felt Royce slump in abject relief. “And I lied. He doesn't hug me when we're done and he never talks in bed. It's only sex. When he's not with me, he’s with one of the housemaids. I want to be special, but I’m not."

Royce actually inhaled loud enough for Allie to hear him.

Joan, however, did not soften. "We do not accept your apology. You are the most disrespectful creature We have ever met. Only the rumors that have reached Us keep you alive."

Allie tensed with dread. She finally looked at Royce and he gave her a warning stare. She turned back to the waiting Queen.

"Show us your healing power," Joan commanded. “Now."

Allie stood very still, recalling Royce's admonition that, under all circumstances, she must not reveal her powers to the Queen. How she wished she could show this woman who really had power now. Carefully she said. "If you had a fever, I would sit by your bed and wash your forehead with cool compresses, to lower the temperature of your body, if you hurt your wrist, I would place a tight bandage there, to speed the healing. Do you have an ailment I can soothe?"

Joan stared with anger. "We have heard how you saved a dying boy." She turned and signaled to one of her ladies.

A moment later, a solider in uniform came into the hall, carrying what looked like a dead puppy in his bands. Allie cried out, for the pup wasn't dead, but it had been clubbed and it was unconscious. It was badly hurt and eventually would die.

Ailios, no!

She shook with horror, overcome with compassion for the suffering dog, the urge to rush to it and instantly heal it overwhelming. She’d heard Royce, but could think of nothing other than how she must heal the black and white puppy.

"Heal the mutt," Joan commanded.

Dinna do it.

Allie trembled, moving toward the soldier with the pup as if entranced. How could she turn from the vows she’d taken, before the Ancients and her mother?

She'll take ye far from here. Ye’ll be her prisoner.

Allie stopped in her tracks. The spotted pup's lashes flickered and she felt tears gathering as its pain washed over hen around her. And she folded her arms tightly around herself. "I can put the puppy in a soft bed inspect it for broken bones and try to splint any," she managed hoarsely. "May I take the dog to my chamber and try to ease its pain?”

"Heal it now, before me and all the witnesses in this room," Joan demanded.

Allie felt the tears falling down her cheeks. It was hard to speak. She hated Joan—she hated the soldier—for cruelly beating this tiny dog. "I can't."

Livid color diffused Joan's face.

Royce stepped forward. "She canna heal such a wounded animal, Yer Majesty.”

Joan looked ready to break something—or order someone broken. “Get the animal out of here," she snapped.

Allie gasped. "Let me take it to my room, please!"

But the guard was leaving and Joan turned a narrow blue gaze on her. "We will have the gown now."

Allie froze.

Joan smiled cruelly. "Give Us the gown."

Royce said tightly, “Ye canna treat my ward in such a manner.”

Joan looked at him. "You mean, your mistress? We will take her to court anyway, where she will learn respect. And We will treat her as We choose. Be pleased Ruari, that We do not take her head and that, mayhap. We will send her back to you sometime."

He stood there breathing hard.

Allie looked at him. Don’t
 
do anything. Let her have her moment of power.

Royce stood there, fighting. his fury.

"Give Us the gown."

Allie swallowed hard. Joan wanted to debase her, and she was succeeding. It was unbelievable that she had to obey this monster of a woman. Suddenly aware of the fact that several guards stood by the front door, she jerked on the zipper. Then she let the red dress fall to the floor around her ankles.

Everyone stared.

Allie only wore a white G-string and she flushed with embarrassment. Somehow, she held her head high as she stepped out of the circle of fabric.

She felt Royce's outrage.

She looked at him. It’s all right, Allie tried. I hate the stupid dress anyway.

His aura was the dark, deep, violent red of a man ready to erupt in fury. But he unpinned his plaid and whipped it about Allied bare body, Allie had never been more grateful for anything. Then he retrieved the gown and handed it to Joan.

Joan stared at her and then at him. "Tonight you will come to me, Ruari. And you will not be thinking of Lady Monroe. She will go to the Tower."

Royce didn't speak. Incredibly his face was now a mask of indifference. He inclined his head.

Joan clapped her hands. A lady ran to her and Joan handed her the dress, then she and her women marched out.

Allie turned into his arms. "Bring me the puppy," she cried frantically.

ALLIE HUGGED THE PUP, who licked her cheek enthusiastically. Healing the dog had taken about three minutes, an indication that she had her powers back.

Then, the pup nestling in her lap as she sat in her bed, stroking it, she thought about the bitchy Queen. There was no question as to what she must do.

She was a Healer and her power was white. Just then, she wished it were black and that she could cast spells like Tabby, or even Sam, who was not that good at them.