Page 103 of Dark Rival

“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 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 the point, and it was too late to have second thoughts.

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 catfight. 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.”