Page 34 of Dark Rival

He was immune to witchcraft, otherwise, he’d think Ailios had put a spell on him.

He wasn’t even sated; how could he be? He felt even hotter than before.

But now, he had to make amends to the wench, who was a good maid. She worked hard and never complained. She was lusty in bed. He’d find her a husband with a small farm. She had to be eighteen, maybe twenty. She was ready for bairns.

As he sat up, the door opened. Only one man would enter without knocking. He considered Aidan the son he’d never had, as he did Malcolm, so he merely frowned.

Aidan glanced at him and grinned. “I wanted to thank ye for yer hospitality,” he said, clearly about to depart Carrick.

Royce stood, stalking to a huge chair and shrugging his leine on. His heavy leather belt followed. He never went unarmed, so his shortsword and a dagger were added to the ensemble. “Since when do ye ever bother to say goodbye—or to thank me for anything, much less my hospitality?” He was annoyed and suspicious as he sat and yanked on his boots. And he did not like the amused look on his friend’s face. It was as if Aidan knew he’d just had the one and only single failure of his life in bed with a woman.

“Yer guest asked me for a few things, so I’ll be back in a few hours,” Aidan said innocently.

Royce stiffened and looked into Aidan’s eyes, then lurked.

Ailios lounged naked in a steaming bath tub, speaking to Aidan, smiling at him, as he stood admiring her face and figure.

“Ye watched her bathe?” he cried, aghast.

“Nay, I spent a moment with her before her bath, but Royce, for the gods, o’course I am thinkin’ about her in her bath.” He grinned and vanished.

Royce just stood there, hot and hard, steaming. Did Aidan want him to go to the tower and seduce the Healer? Did he desire such a union? If so, why?

Or had the sultry little Healer somehow seduced him to her will? Was she in her bath now? Did she think he’d fall for such a ploy? Did she think to seduce him against his will? Did she not trust that he had a damned good reason for staying far from her bed?

He grunted and hit his fist against the wall. His stiff body cried out for release, but he was not going to Ailios now.

He knew a conspiracy when one was formed.

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Allie hesitated on the threshold of the Great Hall. After a huge meal with a ton of meat—which she rarely ate at home—two glasses of wine and that steaming bath, she’d crawled into bed and passed out, the sun still in the sky. Not only had she slept deeply, but her sleep had been dreamless, which had to be a good thing.

Royce sat with Aidan at the table, having breakfast. He was already staring at the threshold when she paused there, clearly having sensed her coming downstairs.

Her resolve had strengthened from the afternoon before. She could survive the beast, and maybe even tame him. She would change the future, no matter what. She was well rested and she felt good, although she’d finger-combed her hair and wished she’d had clean clothes, a good brush and a mirror. She had known he was still in the castle. She’d felt his power below. What she hadn’t expected was his eyes to turn bright silver when he saw her.

Her heart sped wildly with excitement and anticipation, as if he was her lover, not some nameless, faceless woman’s. And damn it, medieval version or not, he looked so good—and his heat and power pulled at her. But he was not her Royce, and she damn well knew it. So she stared and her heart eventually got it and began to slow.

As if he knew of her initial excitement, a satisfied look settled on his face.

She smiled grimly, to herself. He had been impossibly rude last night, but she wasn’t holding a grudge. They were going to have to get along, somehow, for the moment.

His gaze turned wary.

“Good morning,” she said, a bit too brightly. She crossed to the table, Aidan standing, as did Royce. That he would get to his feet in this persona surprised her.

Aidan smiled. “Ye look rested.”

“I slept like a log,” she told him, but she kept one eye on Royce, who merely nodded at her. However, he was acutely tuned to their every gesture and word. “Did you know my mother was from Kintyre, my father’s parents from Aberdeen and Glasgow? This feels like home. The air is amazing. The views are amazing.” She turned her megawatt smile on Royce. She refused to let it falter, but now, she saw that he looked tired.

Of course he was tired—he’d been up all night with a housemaid. She increased the wattage. “How are you? Did you sleep well?” she asked in a sugary tone.

He gave her an odd look. “I spent the night thinking about the deamhan,” he said, and abruptly sat down.

She sobered. What did that mean? She glanced at Aidan, who gave her a heavy-lidded, enigmatic look. Was he telling her that Royce hadn’t been amusing himself with a lover? Was he encouraging her? She walked around the table and sat down on the bench next to Aidan. Royce stiffened, seated alone across from them.

She ignored him and smiled at Aidan. “Did you sleep well?”

He grinned. “I had dreams,” he said. “Very pleasant ones.”