by Brenda Joyce
She felt her smile widen. Macleod hadn’t asked her to marry him yet, but she knew he would—she’d heard him thinking about it that dawn.
She laughed silently to herself. She could read his mind now and she loved it! He was still terribly macho and he’d probably be medieval until the Renaissance, but she could manage him, oh, yes. After all, she was a Rose.
The ceremony was over. Macleod had risen and MacNeil was shaking his hand, when suddenly the brethren erupted into a single, shockingly powerful roar. Tabby looked at Macleod as their cry of acceptance and triumph echoed over and over again and he looked directly at her.
She inhaled. He had already changed. His power, his confidence and dependability were increasing in leaps and bounds. The man she’d met in the sixteenth century was starting to emerge before her very eyes. And she had to admit it was such a turn-on….
It took him a while to reach her. Every Master reached out to grab his hand or clasp his shoulder and pummel his back. Tabby didn’t move, breathlessly happy now and already thinking of a few ways to celebrate. She couldn’t help it. He’d awoken her as no other man ever had, or ever could. She hadn’t lost the best parts of the old Tabby, but the new Tabby was sexually voracious and not going anywhere, ever.
He finally slipped free of his brothers and reached her. “Have ye ogled enough Masters today?” But he was amused as he pulled her close.
“I’m trying to find Sam her match.” That was actually the truth and she knew he was teasing her, anyway.
He wasn’t jealous—how could he be? Last night she’d given him far more than her body—she’d given him her heart and her soul. He undoubtedly knew it, as he still lurked without compunction. “Yer warrior sister would drive a man to madness.”
“There’s someone for everyone. I am so proud of you,” Tabby said.
His eyes darkened as he held her. “I dinna ken why I was so angry, so guilty, why I refused to serve the gods and the good men, women an’ children o’ the world fer so long.”
“I am glad the past has been laid to rest,” she whispered.
“Aye, me, too, because now we have the present to live in an’ the future to plan.” He pulled her against him and murmured, “An’ how will we celebrate tonight?”
She wet her lips. “I think I can come up with an idea or two.”
His grin was quick, wicked and it revealed that slight dimple. “Have I taught ye too well?”
“Tonight you can find out…when I teach you a thing or two.” Tabby grinned and gave him her hand.
He grinned back at her. “So ye’ll teach me?”
“If you can handle it.”
He laughed. The sound was warm and deep. And they walked back to the other Masters, hand in hand. The celebration beginning was one that would last a lifetime—or two.
EPILOGUE
New York City
A few days later
“WHY THE URGE to suddenly go back to the exhibit on An Tùir-Tara?” Sam asked, feeling a bit cross and restless. But she was jet-lagged from the two-day trip to Scotland, and Nick had laid into her when she’d gone to work that morning.
No more personal anything, he’d ordered. Who the hell did he think he was?
And he damn well hadn’t been reading her mind, because then he’d know that there hadn’t been anything personal going on with Ian Maclean. And there never would be.
“Because I came across a reference to An Tùir-Tara when I was going over my file before closing it,” Kit said, hurrying up the stairs. They were at the Met, and because it was so close to closing, it wasn’t very crowded. “It was bothersome. A usually good historian got some dates wrong.”
Sam didn’t care. Nick had told her that Tabby was fine and at Blayde in 1298—and apparently, head over heels in love with her medieval Highlander. Hadn’t Sam predicted that? But he didn’t think she could have survived An Tùir-Tara. He’d been there, he’d said, and it had been an inferno. The good news was that he was certain Criosaidh hadn’t made it out alive, either.
Sam refused to believe that Tabby would go back in time to the thirteenth century, find a nearly immortal soul mate with superpowers, and then die while battling evil a few centuries later. She still disliked Macleod for taking Tabby away from her, but she knew he’d move mountains—and Fate—to keep Tabby alive until she died from really old age. By now, Tabby probably knew that the Rose women kept a lot of secrets.
Sam still missed her, enough that it hurt.
Kit’s rapid steps finally slowed. Her gaze was soft, sad. “Hey. I know what it’s like to lose your best friend ever.”
Sam tensed. “Tabby’s where she’s meant to be.” Then she felt like a total heel. “Hey, I’m sorry.” Kit never talked about her dead twin sister, but everyone knew about Kelly.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. You and Tabby were as close as sisters can be. I get it. It hurts that she’s gone, even if it’s her Destiny. And it will take a long, long time to adjust.”
Sam felt like pointing out that Kit had never adjusted to her loss, and her sister had been murdered when they were eighteen—almost ten years earlier.
“Oh, and I forgot,” Kit said. “Nick thinks Maclean is bad news.”
“Wow,” Sam mocked, trying not to spit in anger as she thought of Ian, “for once we are in absolute agreement on something!”
“I guess he pissed you off,” Kit muttered, and she hurried ahead of Sam to the big glass case displaying the Wisdom of the Celts exhibit. “Sam!”
Sam hurried over, and instantly, she understood why Kit was shocked. Because winking at them from the inside of the case was the gold palm amulet, with its bright moonstone center.
“What does that mean?” Kit gasped. “Macleod stole it a few days ago!”
Sam elbowed past her, not meaning to be rude. Even the facts had changed. “Listen to this,” she said hoarsely. “On June first, 1550, a terrible fire destroyed the central tower of Melvaig Castle. While most historians cannot agree on the cause of the fire, the most common hypothesis is that the fire was a result of the kind of treachery so often seen in the ongoing clan war between the MacDougalls of Skye and the Macleods of Loch Gairloch. But that bloody feud ended with the demise of the Lady of Melvaig, a victim of the fires. To this day, locals claim that An Tùir-Tara was the last battle in a great war of two Highland witches.” Sam reeled in shock as she spoke.
“That’s the date I found in my files, and I thought I’d missed it the first go-round!” Kit exclaimed. “Sam, the facts—the date of An Tùir-Tara, even the text—have changed! And the amulet is back!”
“You didn’t miss it and it wasn’t a mistake,” Sam whispered, staring at the pendant. It glowed magically now. “History has changed.”
Kit was silent, but only for a moment. “Okay, so what on earth does it mean?”
Sam began to smile. “It means Tabby was meant to lose the pendant at An Tùir-Tara, and apparently, she did.”
“Sam?”
“It means she got a bit impatient to do battle, don’t you think?” Sam turned to Kit and uncharacteristically put her hand on her shoulder. “It means Tabby won.” Then she sighed, groaning inwardly. “And it means she’s living happily ever after with Macleod.”
The two women exchanged glances, smiled, and Kit said, “Pizza?”
“Why not?” But as they left, Sam looked back at the glowing pendant and silently cheered for her sister and her soul mate.
The moonstone kept winking.
Dear Reader,
I hope you have enjoyed the first two books of THE ROSE TRILOGY. I love writing about these superpowered, macho medieval heroes—men who are men, make no apologies about it and the ladies beware! However, something new has happened. I’m really enjoying writing about some of the strongest heroines I’ve ever created. Working with these modern Rose women and taking them on their personal journeys has been a blast. I hope you enjoyed Tabby’s courageous struggle with evil—and her equally courageous journey to find tru
e love with Macleod.
By now you all know Sam Rose’s story is next—and that she will go head to head with Ian Maclean!
Sam is truly a modern woman and is probably the strongest heroine I’ve done yet. She is powerful, sexy, independent and a Slayer. Romance is not in her vocabulary—a true soldier lives alone, fights alone and dies alone. Sam might miss Tabby now, but she’d never admit it, not even to herself. Her life is the war on evil, period. Except for one itty-bitty grudge she is holding—against Ian Maclean.
You see, Sam believes in payback. She will never forgive Ian for walking out on her and leaving her naked in Dark Victory. She can’t wait to meet him again and bring him down. But what she doesn’t expect is for them to meet and be on opposite sides of the war. Because Maclean has come to town, and he has something everybody wants: the good guys, the bad guys and, of course, Sam….
Ian Maclean ranks right up there with the handful of best heroes I’ve ever done. Society assumes he is what he appears to be—a wealthy and powerful jet-setting playboy. But Maclean spent sixty-six years as a child in demonic captivity, and he has far more than scars—he has dark secrets. He is tortured. He rarely sleeps—he can’t handle his dreams—and he suffers daily from terrible flashbacks. And, as rich as he is, he lives a life of isolation, without family, without friends. He struggles with the truth about himself. But he is oh-so-sexy, anyway. And he knows it….
He comes to New York to steal a page from the Duisean, which has wound up in an art collector’s hands. However, he hasn’t forgotten Sam. He knows she will be hunting the page, too. And Ian can’t wait to play this game with her, certain of its outcome. Because women never say no to him for very long. Of course, he’s never met a woman like Sam before!
Dark Lover is an amazing story—but a word of caution: it is dark. What Ian has gone through is horrific, and it’s a miracle he’s survived. Dark Lover is a story of an incredibly wounded man seeing that thread of light at the end of a dark tunnel and slowly being helped toward it. It is a story of good and evil, courage and fear, true love and dark desires. It is a story of two strong, proud, furiously independent people daring to look past the obvious and reach out to one another. And mostly, it is once again a story of the healing power of love.
Happy reading!
Brenda Joyce
ISBN: 978-1-4268-2941-3
DARK VICTORY
Copyright © 2009 by Brenda Joyce Dreams Unlimited, Inc.
Masters of Time® is a registered trademark of Brenda Joyce Dreams Unlimited, Inc. Used with permission.
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