Brenda Joyce

Dark Rival


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great room. And it was her Royce, the modern, insatiable, supersexed lover she had spent the past twenty-four hours with. Even though they’d spent the night and day together, her heart raced madly as he approached.

      But Royce was grim and unsmiling. “What are ye doing here, Aidan?” he asked.

      The dark Highlander came forward, unperturbed by the cool greeting. “Have ye lost yer mind? Ye canna recall that I followed ye to help ye if ye needed me?”

      Royce looked him up and down, disapproval on his face. “That was six centuries ago. I see that you’ve broken the rules again.”

      “Ye ken I hate rules. They cage my poor soul.”

      “Ye followed me five centuries ago when I was a younger man—but ye dinna help me fight Moffat in South Hampton. My memory hardly fails me.” Royce was sharp and cold.

      “Ye dinna need my help. Ye battled Moffat alone easily enough. I decided to go to Rome.” He shrugged. “I thought to come to Carrick and see what ye decided to do with the Healer.” He grinned. “Finally ye come to yer senses, eh, Royce?”

      Royce seemed annoyed.

      Allie said, “What does that mean?”

      Aidan looked at her. “It only took him hundreds o’ years to find some pleasure outside o’ bed with a woman.”

      Royce’s stern expression did not ease. He turned away, walking over to the sideboard as Allie deciphered the conversation. In South Hampton, Royce had appeared from 1430 to help her fight the demons. Aidan had followed him from that time, but had not helped them in the battle. Instead he had gone to Rome. Then he had stopped by Carrick to check on her, which did not make sense. But Royce was clearly not amused. “Ye need to go back to yer time as the Code requires—without the jacket an’ jeans.”

      “I spent hours shopping in Rome!” Aidan exclaimed. “But I see ye have barely changed—ye remain far too grim. I’ll go.” Aidan turned to her. “At least ye make him smile. T’is a vast improvement.”

      Allie wondered at that and said, “FYI, there’s better shopping in Milan.”

      “Dinna encourage him,” Royce told her. “The Code is clear. He travels for his own pleasure…t’is strictly forbidden.”

      “But he looks so cute in black leather,” Allie said, smiling at Aidan.

      He winked at her. Then he turned to Royce. “Ye have done well, Royce.” Aidan’s smile was male and knowing. “I never thought I’d see the day when ye’d take a mistress.”

      “Keep yer eyes in yer head,” Royce warned softly.

      “A man must look, if he lives an’ breathes.”

      “You’ll never change,” Royce retorted, and then he clasped Aidan’s shoulder hard, with great affection. He turned to Allie, who was highly interested in the somewhat avuncular exchange. “He’s the rogue of all rogues, Ailios…dinna fall for his pretty smile an’ prettier words.”

      “Don’t worry,” Allie said. “I’ve already fallen—for the first time in my life.”

      Royce started, and he wasn’t smiling.

      Allie was surprised she’d said such a thing so openly, but she meant it. She never led guys on, but this was different. She was falling in love, even if it wasn’t a part of her game plan. And she was certain he reciprocated her feelings, and not because every guy she’d ever dated became serious with her sooner or later. She thought she could feel Royce’s emotions.

      Then he touched her hair. “I like ye, too.”

      Allie was briefly dismayed, but his eyes were so warm that the confusion vanished. Lots of men could not say the L word.

      Aidan cleared his throat. “Mayhap a glass of wine before I leave? To celebrate matters o’ the bed—an’ the heart?” He was amused.

      Allie didn’t quite get it, but Royce seemed a bit annoyed again. However, he started to turn back to the massive sideboard where a wine rack was placed in one of the glass cabinets. He faltered.

      Aidan’s shoulders stiffened.

      Darkness descended at lightning speed—and so did an arctic cold.

      Aidan rushed to the wall display of swords, lifting one from its sheath. He took one look at the dull blade and flung it aside. As he lifted another, Royce opened a chest and withdrew a semiautomatic. “Aidan.” He tossed an unsheathed sword at him.

      And Aidan caught it easily by the hilt. Allie ran to Royce as the demons formed in their midst.

      “Stay back,” he said.

      She was about to argue when the blow came, taking her by surprise, before she could even try to shield herself. She cried out, hurled across the entire great room, slamming into the stone of the fireplace.

      Royce roared in fury, firing.

      Allie got to her hands and knees, watching Aidan beheading a half a dozen demons with so much skill and speed it might have been the final cut from a Hollywood movie. Royce was firing at the same demon that had attacked them in South Hampton, but the demon had put up his energy and the bullets were deflected, scattering everywhere.

      She took up a poker but remained where she was. Aidan was doing a good job with the remaining demons, and Royce and the blonde from South Hampton seemed to be intent only on each other. This time, though, if he came close, she’d get more than his eyeball; she was going for his unfeeling heart.

      Royce now threw the useless semi aside. He blasted his energy at the demon, who blocked it and grinned, revealing white, gleaming teeth.

      Allie tensed in alarm, thinking, No, Royce!

      A dagger had appeared in his hand, but as if he’d heard her cry out silently, as if he knew she was desperate to go to his side and help him, Royce turned to look at her. “Ye stay back.”

      The demon threw a knife at Royce. Allie saw it; he did not. She screamed in warning.

      Royce whirled back but the blade impaled him in his chest as he moved.

      Allie froze in horror.

      For one moment, Royce stood upright, unmoving—and he threw the dagger. He threw it with unbelievable accuracy and Allie realized he would nail the sonuvabitch. But the blond demon vanished the instant the blade seemed to pierce his chest, and it fell to the floor. The two remaining demons also disappeared, leaving behind the dozen dead on the great room floor—and Royce.

      He reeled and fell over onto his back.

      The hilt of the knife protruded from his heart.

      Allie rushed to his side and fell onto her knees, pouring her white light over him. He was not going to die, no matter how bad it looked! He couldn’t die—he was a hero, a Master, the savior of mankind and the love of her life!

      She hadn’t raised the dead girl, but surely she could save Royce!

      Panic began.

      Royce took her hand. He was deathly white. But he smiled. “Nay, lass. Let me go.”

      He was dying. She felt his life spinning away. But she could heal him—she would heal him. In panic, she poured all the white light she could muster on him, trying to hold her terror at bay.

      “Ailios!” Royce’s grasp tightened, his gaze on hers. “Let me die.”

      Allie looked at him in horror. “Don’t talk. You don’t mean it. I won’t let you die! I love you!”

      “Please,” Royce said softly. And his grasp loosened.

      And she felt his life soaring away from him. She saw a white-gold light lifting from him. “No!” Frantic, she poured white power over him, through him, but everything was happening too fast now.

      Royce