by Brenda Joyce
Tabby thought that she recalled his absolute and abject fear for her. Had she hallucinated his making a pact with the gods? Had she heard him swear he would take their vows and give up his vengeance? “How did he find you?”
Allie seemed puzzled. “He found me at Carrick, Tabby, in the fifteenth century. Since we don’t know each other—yet—I assume you sent him to me.”
“I did.” Tabby wet her lips. “But he can’t leap.”
Allie slowly smiled. “Uh, honey, he can leap, and if he’s said otherwise, he’s telling a big fat lie, although I cannot imagine why.”
Tabby collapsed back onto the pillows, tears forming. He had made a pact with the gods and they had given him the power to leap. He was going to take his vows and become a Master, giving up the dark and bloody life he lived. She was thrilled.
“What is going on?” Allie cried. “Those are tears of happiness, aren’t they?”
“He has been suffering so,” Tabby whispered unsteadily. “And, yes, I’m happy, considering all that has happened.”
“Welcome to the world of big, bad and oh-so-sexy medieval men.” Allie grinned. “Oh, and did I forget to mention how superstubborn they are?”
Tabby looked at her, her tears falling. She had survived Criosaidh. She wasn’t sure how that had happened. Criosaidh had been far more powerful than she, Tabby, had been. Had she simply decided to leave, with the plan of coming back again to finish what she’d started?
But she was supposed to die at An Tùir-Tara. Tabby tensed in dread.
“What is it?” Allie asked quickly.
No, she told herself. Macleod had made a pact with the gods. He would not go to An Tùir-Tara to change history and defy them another time. But she cringed inwardly, because he was so reckless and arrogant. She didn’t think his character would change overnight. When he made up his mind to do something, nothing would stand in his way—not even a god.
She turned to smile grimly at Allie. “So they’re all impossible?”
“Honey, they’re medieval.”
“No kidding. The first time I met Macleod, he beheaded a sub—while I was in that boy’s arms.”
Allie winced. “Ow. I bet that did a ton for your romantic relationship.”
Tabby started to laugh. Allie grinned with her. Automatically they both reached out and held hands, clinging. “I love it,” Allie said softly. “You are the gentlest soul I know. And he’s one of the hardest of souls. Life with him won’t be easy,” she warned.
“I never said we were going to make a life together,” she began, then stopped. Her heart shrieked at her.
Allie gave her an “are-you-crazy” look. “So you’re going to walk away and leave him hanging around here without you? When another woman looks at Royce, my claws come out!”
Tabby sat up straighter. “I can’t stand the idea of him with another woman.”
“Good!”
“Why are you cheering for us?”
“Because you love him. Because he obviously loves you.”
Tabby stared.
Allie’s brows lifted. “I am meant to be with Royce. He is my other half. I couldn’t live without him—and he certainly couldn’t live without me. We are a team, Tabby, in every way, even the silly ways, and certainly in the life-altering ones. It is meant to be.”
Tabby nodded, wondering if she and Macleod could ever get past their differences and become partners and soul mates like that. She sobered. He was giving up his vengeance and taking his vows. It was a step in the right direction.
“Why do you look so uncertain?” Allie exclaimed. “Because he can behead his enemy without blinking?”
Tabby smiled grimly. “He can be cruel and he is ruthless.”
“He’s a Highlander, girlfriend. And in case you haven’t figured it out, grudges are carried for life around here, his mortal enemies are as cruel and as ruthless, and given a choice, these machos like using their swords. Hey—they are real men.”
Tabby almost smiled. Ye need a real man….“You’re so cool about it.”
“I want Royce alive, Tabby, and at my side.”
Leave it to Allie to find the bottom line, Tabby thought. “He put a boy in stocks, without food and water, intending to let him die there. I couldn’t allow it, Allie. But I could barely reason with him.”
“I never said the medieval-modern thing was easy, but it’s worth it. But you already know that—and I know it.” Her grin was saucy.
Tabby sighed, thinking about all the good times and all the bad times—and all the nights they’d shared. “He cares about me and he’s proven it time and again. He’s even sworn off vengeance. At first it was just sex.” She blushed. “Maybe it is worth it.”
Allie said softly, “Yeah, Tabby!”
They’d had many late-night talks, discussing their love lives and Tabby’s problems. “I don’t even know how this has happened, but I really care about him, too. I care so much.” Her heart thundered. “I love him,” she whispered, and the moment she’d spoken, she realized it was true.
Allie touched her arm. “You are his better half,” she said softly. “And, Tabby, gentle soul that you are, he is your other half.”
Tabby bit her lip, wondering exactly how much Allie knew about her future.
Royce came forward, his gray eyes hard. “Ye canna divulge the future, Ailios,” he warned. “Not even to Lady Tabitha.”
Tabby looked back and forth between them, wondering what his words meant, exactly. Did he know her, too, in the fifteenth century? Was she going to choose to stay with Macleod in his medieval world? It sounded absurd! But leaving him felt crazy, horrible…and impossible.
Allie smiled. “Royce is uncompromising. Before I came along, the Code was his love and his life.”
Royce gave her an annoyed look. “We have overstayed our welcome.”
Tabby started, alarmed. “You are totally welcome!”
Allie took her hand and gave Royce a dark look. “I am not ready to leave her yet, when she is confused and upset.”
Royce said softly, “Macleod would confuse an’ upset any lass, even Lady Tabitha. He confuses ye, most o’ the time! She an’ Guy need to help themselves—as we did.”
Allie gave him a long look and he flushed. “I will make this up to you, Royce,” she finally said, very softly.
Tabby looked away, but not before she saw him hesitate. Then he sighed and stalked from the room. Tabby looked at Allie. “How long have you both been together?”
Allie laughed. “Almost sixty years, and, yes, I can still manipulate him with sex! He is supersexed and the promise of my best behavior in bed always gets me what I want.” Then she became pensive. Her dark stare was direct. “I love him so much.”
“I can see that. And I am so happy for you.” Tabby stood and paced to the window. Her smile faded. She wished Macleod would walk through the door so she could go into his arms. Was he the love of her life after all? Was it possible? She was never going to forget how frantic he had been when she’d been dying. And he’d given up his vengeance so he could leap to get her help.
Tabby wondered if she was remembering that correctly. It was such a blur of pain and fear. And where was he?
She turned. Allie and Royce were a super couple. There was no doubt in her mind that they were attached at the hip, the heart and the soul. There was something obvious, powerful and natural about it. Suddenly she wanted that bond for her and Macleod.
Allie stood and came over to her. “So what’s going on here? What attacked you?”
Tabby shivered. “A ghost…that came from the sixteenth century.”
“Great.” Allie smiled, unperturbed. “Is it human?”
“Actually, its corporeal self is a fairly immortal witch that is living at Melvaig right now, even as we speak.”
“Interesting. How are your powers?”
“Better.” Tabby smiled. Being with Allie again was great. She hadn’t changed—she remained unflappable and fearless.
“I wonder what you did in
the sixteenth century to piss the witch off, other than kill it?”
Tabby froze. “Is that what you think?”
“Tabby, you just said it’s haunting you.”
“Allie, I’ve been seeing into the window of time.”
Allie’s eyes widened. “From that serious expression, I’m almost afraid to ask.”
Tabby wet her lips. “It all began at the Met. There was this exhibit about a great fire in 1550 at An Tùir-Tara. I felt the ghost’s evil and saw Macleod. He was bloody and burned. He’d been at the fire and it all felt like déjà vu.”
“What do you mean?”
“I felt that I knew Macleod, and I knew that witch. I felt that I’d been at the fire. In fact, when I first came to Blayde, it was familiar, too! But MacNeil said I’ve never been here before.”
“Maybe you’re having a flash forward.”
“What on earth is a flash forward?” Tabby cried.
“It’s that moment when your soul recognizes its Fate.”
Tabby stared, stunned.
“It’s actually that simple—a flashback in reverse. Your soul can recognize what will happen, as if it has already happened, and it feels familiar and right. Some say it happens because a soul feels itself across time, in another moment. Does it matter? Soul recognition is soul recognition. We’ve all had flash forwards at some point. I’ve had them with Royce—and it always ends with the feeling that it’s familiar and right.”
Tabby breathed hard. Was it possible that her soul had recognized Blayde, Macleod, their love—and whatever would happen at An Tùir-Tara? “Do you know anything about An Tùir-Tara, Allie?”
Allie shrugged. “I haven’t lived that long yet. You know it’s awfully risky business to zip around time—one slip and Fate is all messed up. Royce and I try really hard to mind our own business—except, of course, for protecting and healing Innocents.”
“You never mind your own business!” Tabby smiled and then she sobered. “I die at An Tùir-Tara.”
Allie paled. “Like hell you do! Royce died in my arms, do you remember? But I never gave up on him or us, and I went back and changed it! Macleod will not let you die!”
“I hope you’re right.” Tabby didn’t state the obvious. Allie knew the rules as well as she did. She knew all about Fate.
Tabby looked at the door again. “Okay, I’m getting worried. He was flipping out when I was hurt. Why isn’t he here?”
Allie hesitated. “He can be really difficult. As far as he’s come, he will still be a challenge for you for a long time.”
Dread began. “Where did he go, Allie?”
“I know you said he swore off vengeance, but he walked out of here like a man bent on revenge.”
Tabby felt her heart stop. In that moment, she suddenly knew what he intended—she knew it as if she was in his mind. “Oh, my God. He’s going after Criosaidh to kill her!”
THE FRONT GATES TO THE baron of Awe’s home were closed. Sam stared at the closed iron gates, set between two stone pillars, from the front seat of her rental car. She saw the intercom but ignored it. The gates began to open, a simple enough task to accomplish.
She was filled with tension, so much so that her grip on the steering wheel of the Jag was white-knuckled and her entire body was vibrating. She took a breath as the gates swung wide enough to admit the car. What was wrong with her? Not only was she unusually tense, she had a damned headache. But of course, she expected a hellish confrontation with Ian Maclean. She would never let him best her. The truth was, she had hoped to never set eyes on him again.
She hit the gas and the tires screeched, kicking up gravel. She’d met him in Oban last September, just a few months ago, when she and Brie were trying to figure out Aidan’s Fate. They’d exchanged a dozen words and he’d taken Brie back in time to find his father, leaving her standing on the corner alone. She’d disliked him immensely, instantly. And why not? He was drop-dead gorgeous, reeking of virility, power and wealth—and he knew it. He knew he was handsome, rich and mega-powerful, one of the world’s elite. His arrogance had been obvious and so had his disdain. He didn’t like women—he simply liked sex. Sam had felt it. He was an oversexed, overpowered user. It had been obvious that he expected women to fawn over him, chase him. It was as obvious that he didn’t give a damn about anyone or anything.
And why should he? He could buy whatever he wanted, destroy whatever he wanted, fuck whomever he wanted, whenever he wanted. And he expected it to be that way.
He was a bastard and it was that simple. He’d looked at her, clearly thinking about all of the things he’d like to do to her in his bedroom. Ha-ha, Sam thought. If push came to shove and she took him to bed to get what she wanted, it would be exactly that—her taking him to bed. However, she hated the idea. She was not going to be one of a thousand forgettable women, not ever. She needed to go back in time, but she had a bargaining chip or two. She knew he’d never help her just because they were both good guys on the same side of the battlefield. But he could surely use her connections at HCU.
He’d never do anything for nothing.
Sam braked in front of a huge, centuries-old ancestral home. She got out of the car, a short skimpy dress beneath her wool coat. She was wearing stilettos and she had to navigate the stone path leading up to the front door. She felt his power coming from within the house in huge hot waves, and she felt the power of two more men, as well.
A butler greeted her at the front door, his eyes wide with surprise. “I’m afraid I did not realize his lordship was expecting another guest.”
He had a butler. It was so absurdly classic that it was funny. Sam stepped past the man, handing him her coat. “He’s not. I opened the gates with my superpowers. So where’s his lordship?”
The butler paled. “Your name, madam?”
“Madam Butterfly.” Sam smiled. “I’ll find his lordship myself.” She started across the entry hall, acutely aware of the coat of arms on one wall and the multimillion-dollar masterpieces on the other walls. She heard voices and the tinkle of glasses. Great, a party. She loved parties.
“Please wait, madam,” the butler cried, chasing her.
Sam strode to the threshold of a living room, instantly dismissing the two other men and three beautiful women in the elegant, old-world room. Ian stood in front of a massive stone hearth, clad in an impeccably tailored tuxedo, a flute of champagne in one hand. A solid gold watch was exposed, as were sapphire cuff links. His eyes were on her as she paused. He’d felt her, too, and was expecting her.
“It’s all right, Gerard,” he drawled in a heavy Scot brogue. “The more, the merrier.” He tipped his flute at her, his blue gaze gleaming with male interest.
Sam breathed hard. Well, she hadn’t imagined the lust—or how frigging hot he was. He was looking at her long, strong, bare legs, undoubtedly speculating about how it would feel to have them wrapped around his waist. Dream on, she thought silently.
He started.
Great, he thought to read her mind. Two could play this game. “Your lordship, I hope I am not imposing,” Sam mocked. She thought about curtsying but decided that would be overdoing it.
His eyes gleamed even more brightly. “I was wonderin’ how long it would take ye to find me.”
She smiled coldly at him. “In your dreams,” she murmured.
“I’m very fond o’ dreams.”
“I’ll bet.”
A beautiful woman in a long, slinky red dress stood, moving to stand possessively beside him. She had a Playboy center-fold body, a perfect face and endless legs—but so did Sam. She did not have lethal blades concealed in her high heels or a laser-edged DVD in her purse that could sever a man’s head from his body. “I didn’t realize you’d invited another guest to Lord Ross’s.”
Ian didn’t look at her. He sauntered forward and Sam tried not to inhale. His stride was sensual and suggestive, the gait of a man in slow pursuit, a man absolutely certain of the evening’s outcome. “Hello, Rose.” He paused by a d
ry bar and poured champagne into an untouched flute. He handed it to her. “Welcome to my lair.”
“But your father was the wolf.” Sam batted her lashes at him.
“Like father, like son,” he murmured, his gaze dipping to her cleavage.
The champagne was Cristal, of course. Sam took the flute and knew he meant for their fingers to brush. Her body was very hot and very tight, but it didn’t matter. She was never giving in to him—unless it was on her terms. “In the mood for a proposition?”
His mouth curved. “I’ve been in the mood since Oban.”
“I’m so flattered.” Sam nodded toward a pair of closed doors. Ian took her arm and looked at his guests and obviously expendable date. “We have some unfinished business to conclude. We’ll only be a moment.”
Sam glanced at his guests. The two women were affronted, but the two men seemed amused. She glanced at him carefully. His eyes were almost silver now, and directed at the woman in red. He was mesmerizing her to his will.
She turned and sat down with the other women, an obedient little slave. She even smiled at them.
Ian opened the pair of doors, gesturing, as if a gentleman. Sam slithered past him, very deliberately, brushing her hip against him as she did. She entered a dark room. She heard him close the door; the lights came on. He smiled with relish at her. “I expected more of a hunt, Samantha.”
“No one hunts me. And no one calls me Samantha.”
Ian’s mouth curved. “Ye’ve never had a real man.”
Sam laughed with disdain at him. What a jerk! She sat down, crossing her legs, making sure her short black dress rode up precariously high. He looked. She leaned forward to set her flute down, aware of his focus on her full, mostly exposed breasts. She straightened, pleased. “I like toys,” she said. “Oops, I mean boys.”
“No wonder ye’re so hot an’ bothered around me.” He smiled, hardly perturbed.
Sam bristled inwardly. “I am always ready for a good time.”
His mouth curved again. “Then come here.”
She sat back. Not in a million years. She lowered her lashes and said, “I need your help.”
“O’ course ye do. Ye need to go back in time to find your sister.”