by Brenda Joyce
Or was it? Everything had changed and so swiftly, at the speed of light. In the future, he’d waited almost six hundred years for her. Last night, although he hadn’t had to wait centuries for her, they’d shared a lifetime in a few days—a very dangerous, intense lifetime. They’d fought and argued, they’d saved Garret from the rockslide, they’d fought demons, she’d healed him from a mortal wound—and he’d comforted her while she tried to adjust to the shock of the truth about her mother.
Allie sat up slowly. That last action meant as much as anything, if not more. He was a very complex man, with so many sides—he could be savage and barbaric, but he could be caring and kind. She thought about the way he’d used the ax to destroy the giant who’d captured her and her stomach vanished. He’d been scary. He could have used an energy blast but he’d preferred an ax. She’d been afraid to rush up to him to heal him. But hadn’t she needed someone that ruthless, that brave and that determined to hold the line, her entire life? Royce had the savage intent and the strength to fight the most powerful demons and win.
Allie shivered and lifted the fur. She almost wished she hadn’t recalled his savagery and bloodlust. But she had to admit that she had a primitive side, too. She was fascinated with the savage warrior. She admired his intensity.
Still, she would have never dreamed in a hundred years that the same man would hold her while she unraveled. He had probably been just as surprised. Now she could see how the medieval version would evolve into the modern man she’d first fallen for. However, it was a bit presumptuous to think he was starting that transformation already. Maybe, maybe, he could do it in a hundred years.
Allie got up, wrapped in the fur, smiling. She wasn’t sure what her life span was; apparently her mother had lived at least six hundred years. It would be interesting to watch Royce embrace his softer, kinder side. Her heart leapt impossibly as she imagined long nights like the last one, times spent before the fire or on the ramparts, gazing at the stars.
She was falling for this Royce, and she had better slow down, because Mr. Medieval might be back at any moment and he was not ready to hold hands. Her smile faded a little. One thing had been missing last night. He hadn’t cuddled and he hadn’t talked.
Allie focused. She needed patience—she’d be his teacher now. It was okay. All that sex was coming from his macho side. He needed a bit of time to learn how to be intimate and about the enhanced pleasure intimacy could bring.
Maybe she’d start teaching him tonight.
In any case, things were looking up. They were becoming friends, and they were lovers, too. The beast wasn’t as scary as he’d seemed, and he was starting to eat out of her hand. Now she had to figure out why he’d wanted to die in 2007. It was time to get to know him—she needed to get inside his head.
Allie was eager to know him better, but she was not at all deluded. If he didn’t like talking—and he had made it clear he did not—figuring him out might not be that easy. That was going to take time, no matter his kindness last night.
Her heart wanted to float up to the ceiling like a hot air balloon. Last night made up for his initial hostility; it sure did. And she had time, didn’t she? There was no rush to go home, even if Royce changed his mind and let her do so.
Allie walked over to the hearth, wishing a fire flamed there. She’d assumed her stay in the past would be a brief one. In fact, she’d assumed her future with Royce would be in the future, too.
They were meant to be together, that was clear—he was the one for her. But in which time?
Allie became uncertain. She would stick around in the fifteenth century for a while, but at some point, when they had a way to prevent his murder, she was going to the future to be with the modern Royce, wasn’t she?
Unease began. She would leave her medieval man there at Carrick, in the fifteenth century, and with a leap through time, she would be reunited with Royce instantly. But he’d be left behind in his time, and he’d spend centuries without her—until he aged into his fourteen-hundred-year-old self and was reunited with her.
How could she leave him for five hundred and seventy-seven years? They were embarking on a new relationship. He’d become her guardian as well as her lover. He needed her, here and now, and she needed him.
Allie looked around at his chamber, thinking about the bedroom in her Manhattan penthouse. Then she shoved the memory of her luxurious room aside. The Middle Ages weren’t as bad as she had expected. Nothing at Carrick was that dirty, and while there was a lot of body odor, Royce smelled great. She would bet a fortune that he swam in one of the lochs every morning.
She wasn’t going to be able to leave him, she thought. And the moment she realized that, her heart began to dance and sing, rejoicing. Grudgingly she smiled. Man, she was getting in deep!
A knock sounded.
Allie was glad for the interruption. She knew Royce would not knock—it wouldn’t occur to him. She called out to enter, curious.
Ceit came in with a maid Allie hadn’t seen before, a pretty blonde. Ceit smiled at her. “I thought ye might be awake, finally. T’is hard to open yer eyes after a night with his lordship.” She held a trencher in her hand.
Allie stiffened. Some dread niggled as Ceit set the trencher down while the blonde, who was very young, blushed and giggled.
It had sounded as if Ceit knew all about Royce’s lovemaking. Allie told herself to breathe. Ceit was a nice woman, and not the type to catfight. She knew she hadn’t meant anything and she counted to ten. “Did Royce tell you to send that up?”
Ceit looked surprised. “He left hours ago, my lady. He be an early riser. He dinna say a word, really, this morning. He seemed to be considerin’ weighty matters. He dinna seem all that pleased, either.” Ceit gave her a curious look.
Allie felt her smile vanish as the blonde began to start the fire. She folded her arms. “Last night was great.”
Ceit went to the bed and started pulling off the covers.
Allie gave up. “So you have shared Royce’s bed, too?”
Ceit looked at her, eyes wide. “Not in two years.” She added hastily, “Only fer a short time, my lady.”
Allie reminded herself that Royce’s days as Don Juan were over. She knew he was in love with her—she felt a blazing connection between them, even out of bed. He had her in his life now, and that changed everything. Didn’t it?
She hated knowing that he was a medieval lord and pretty much had a castle filled with pretty women to hurry to his beck and call. But he had shown her how much he cared yesterday—and how much he loved her last night.
Knowing she should not ask, she couldn’t stop herself from speaking. “Did he make love to you all night long—as if the world were ending?”
Ceit’s eyes widened. “There be no love at all, my lady. He’s a man with strong needs. Ye dinna need look at me with such fear.”
Allie tried to smile. “What did he do? Tire of you? Find someone younger, prettier?”
Ceit was puzzled. “Of course he tired of me. I knew he would, for he tires of all the maids. Lady, what is this? Dinna be saddened! Ye should enjoy his attentions for the moment.”
“For the moment,” Allie echoed, uneasy now. “But he won’t tire of me.” Royce was falling for her. Why couldn’t Ceit see that?
Ceit glanced at her and quickly looked away.
But Allie had seen pity in her eyes. “I’m different—and you know it!”
“Ye be very different. But that look on yer face—I’ve seen it before—hundreds of times—in this very chamber.”
Allie felt ill. “Okay. He’s had a lot of lovers. And they all fall for him. Great.”
“T’is hard not to think ye love such a man after such a night,” Ceit said softly. “But, my lady, dinna be so foolish. All men tire of their mistresses. T’is the way of the world. Men like young, new sport. He’ll only break yer heart.”
“I am in love with him,” Allie said firmly. “I will love him until I die. And he loves me, too. I am he
re to stay.”
Ceit smiled kindly, but worry was reflected in her eyes. “So ye think to marry him?”
Allie didn’t hesitate. “Yes, I do, when the time is right.”
“Yer a foreigner, English be my guess?”
Allie hesitated. “Close enough.”
“Are you an heiress?”
Allie was confused. She was about to say yes when it occurred to her that in this world, she had not a dime. “No. I’m dirt poor.” It was weird saying it—and almost meaning it.
“If his lordship marries, he’ll marry a great heiress. He doesna need more land or another title. But all men need more wealth.” Ceit started making the bed.
Allie walked up to her, aware that Ceit believed her every word. “What about love?”
“Love? What does love have to do with marriage?” She shook the covers for emphasis. “When a man needs power, wealth or sons, then he marries.”
And briefly, Allie was disturbed. She wasn’t going to claim that she knew very much about the medieval world—how it worked, how a man like Royce might think, or what he really wanted. But love was timeless, wasn’t it? Or didn’t love matter in the Middle Ages? Could Royce really look at the world the way Ceit was describing? “Does Royce have sons? Why isn’t he married?”
Ceit shook her head. “Nay a single bastard, an’ that be strange.” She then said, “No one knows why he’s unwed. There’s gossip, of course.”
Allie seized the bait. “What kind of gossip?”
“I heard it said there was a wife, long ago, but that doesna explain why he hasn’t married anew.”
“Royce was married?” Allie gasped in surprise.
“T’is said the marriage did not last.” She shrugged. “I have even heard it said that his wife be the reason he’s unwed to this day.”
“Why?” Allie cried.
“I dinna ken.” She smiled kindly. “And that be gossip, my lady, an’ mayhap untrue.”
Allie stared unhappily. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”
ROYCE HAD BEEN GONE all day. Allie learned he’d had to inspect some lands belonging to Morvern and that he would be back by supper and that was fine with her. But she hadn’t gotten over the morning conversation with Ceit. The maid’s assumptions that she was no different from his previous lovers worried her. Ceit had to be wrong.
When the sun began to lower, Allie went into the courtyard. She was wearing her jersey print dress and high heels, aware that Royce would be inflamed by the tiny, clingy dress, and she made her way up to the ramparts so she could watch for him. Every man she passed avoided looking at her; Allie felt ridiculously safe.
One long day apart after last night felt like weeks, no, months. She stared past the crenellations, across the small midward and the outer walls, across the dangerous ravine. When she went into his arms—when they made love—she would forget about the confusion Ceit had raised. A group of horsemen were approaching and she recognized the huge white horse at its head. Her heart leapt and sped.
As the band got closer, his aura blazed, dwarfing everyone else’s. Allie tensed, fisted with desire. His aura was red-hot and she knew what it meant. He was coming for her.
She hung on the crenellated wall for one more moment, as the riders trotted over the main drawbridge. Royce glanced directly up at her, clearly sensing her presence on the walls.
Allie was still, an act of great self-control, because she wanted to rush down to the courtyard and leap into his arms—and then be dragged to his bed. She couldn’t wait. He kept staring until his charger disappeared beneath the gatehouse towers.
Allie finally gulped air, wet to the core, and carefully descended the stone stairs. Anticipation made her feel faint. Royce had already dismounted and his steed was being led away. He hadn’t been wearing armor, just the belted tunic and plaid, and his swords. He looked every bit a warrior of the gods. Not glancing her way, he started for the Great Hall.
Allie tensed. He hadn’t looked back at her, not once. But his senses were acute, like hers. He had to have known she was there. “Royce!” She hurried after him.
For one moment, his strides didn’t slow. Then he faltered, but as he turned, he beckoned to one of his men. “Neil.”
Allie was confused, because he was facing her now, but not looking at her.
A big man with flaming red hair approached. “My lord?”
“At dawn, take five men an’ pursue the poachers. Yer to bring them to me. I wish to stare in the eye the man who dares break my laws.”
“Aye, my lord.”
Allie stood beside Royce and the giant, waiting for Royce to acknowledge her. Why was he avoiding looking at her? Where was his sexy, knowing glance—and an even warmer smile? Her heart beat so hard it hurt. What was happening?
Neil left and they were alone. Royce finally looked at her in such a way it was as if he didn’t wish to really see her at all. In fact, his glance was so brief, so cursory, that Allie would bet he didn’t even know she wore a sexy green and white print dress that hugged her every curve. “Good eve,” he said, staring at the great room door instead of at her.
What the hell was this? Allie’s confusion became uncertainty. “Hey. Hi,” she managed, staring up at his profile. But it was an expressionless mask that could have been carved of stone.
He nodded, his gaze briefly flicking over her, avoiding her eyes. “I’m hungry. The day has been long.” But he waited for her to walk inside before he did so.
Allie couldn’t understand. Why wasn’t he looking at her? What was wrong? His aura remained hot and ready to go. “Hey.” She reached for his arm and touched it. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Had something terrible happened?
He shifted and her hand fell away. “Let’s sup,” he said, and he walked inside, leaving her standing alone.
Allie tried to remain confident. There was no reason for Royce to reject her. She didn’t care what Ceit had said earlier. His aura told her he was hot for her. He couldn’t possibly have tired of her.
But he was cold and impersonal, as if last night hadn’t happened, not any part of it.
SHE WALKED INTO THE HALL behind him, terribly unfamiliar with her anxiety. Most of her life she had cruised through any and every situation with no doubts at all—especially if the situation was social or romantic. Any anxiety she’d ever had had been related to her academics. She felt so odd. He was going to have a drink and turn and smile at her, wasn’t he?
Royce was shouting for Ceit to bring the meal, while pouring a mug of wine. Then he hesitated, his back to her. Finally, Allie thought, trembling.
Ceit came running in with Peigi. She laid a trencher of meat and fish on the table, while Peigi went to Royce and unpinned his plaid, taking it from him. When Royce didn’t turn to her to smile or even speak, Allie began to breathe hard. Moisture came to her eyes. Was he rejecting her? Had Ceit been right?
Both women left, only to return with bread, cheese, grains. Royce, his shoulders stiff, finally turned. “Here.” He extended the mug of wine.
The last shreds of her optimism and confidence vanished. She walked up to him when it felt like she was walking into the mouth of an erupting volcano. “What is going on? Why aren’t you looking at me? What kind of greeting is this? I have missed you so much!” she cried, trembling.
He was looking at her now. Still offering the wine, his gaze moved from her eyes, where a tear slipped free, to her mouth and down the sexy jersey dress, right to her green suede high heels. He lifted his gaze, and before his lashes came down, Allie saw bright heat. “Do you wish for some wine?” he asked with so little emotion that he could have been asking a stranger.
Allie trembled, the urge to strike the wine from his hand huge. “No. I was thinking along the lines of a hug and a kiss.”
He drained the wine and refilled it, his back to her once more. “Tomorrow ye go to Dunroch.”
Allie tensed impossibly. Everything was wrong. He was not the lover she’d had in her bed last night; sh
e didn’t know who he was. “Dunroch?” she managed to say. She wiped another errant tear. But why would he do this?
“Aye. My nephew Malcolm an’ his wife are there. Ye’ll be safe with them.”
Allie gasped. “Are you getting rid of me?”
He sat down at the table, heaping meat and salmon upon a trencher. “Ye need protection. I trust Malcolm. He’s a powerful Master.” He didn’t look at her, just started eating.
Allie was in disbelief. “Royce,” she began.
“Sit down an’ eat,” he said, shoveling food into his mouth.
Allie realized he was intent on ignoring her now. She stepped to the table and pulled his trencher from him, so abruptly that some meat and bloody gravy sprayed over the table and his lap. He looked up, his face hard. “Last night we made love. Today we’re done?”
“Aye.”
Shock began.
“Ye need protection an’ Malcolm will protect you with his life,” Royce said.
This could not be happening, Allie thought. “You did not use me,” she managed to say.
“I’m sorry.”
He had used her?
Allie did not have a temper. Now, she saw red. She hit him across the face, as hard as she could. And pain blinded her, bringing the tears she so wanted to release.
He leapt up and seized her throbbing hand, holding it tightly, to ease the pain. “I am sorry. I dinna make any promises…nary one.” Then he bellowed for the maids.
She tried to jerk her hand free, but it was impossible. “Let go.” But he hadn’t made a single promise and he hadn’t said he loved her—or anything even close.
He held on tightly for one more moment, as the maids came running in. They gasped at the sight of his stained tunic and the spilled food. “Get seawater for Lady Ailios. She has hurt her hand. I need a leine.”
As Ceit and Peigi vanished again, Allie jerked on her hand and he let it go. “Am I a fool?” she said, still reeling.