Dark Rival (7 page)

But of course, Allie thought. He looked like a grandson of the gods. And how else could he screw all night like that. How else could he have the kind of energy to throw around that the demons had? “The demons are descended from Satan, aren't they?”

“Some, and some are fallen Masters.”

Her mother had told her to trust a golden Master. “Is that what you call yourself? A Master?”

“We're the Masters of Time, Ailios. I made my vows before the Brotherhood and God on Iona long ago. We exist to keep mankind safe and to serve the Ancients.”

Allie was intensely interested. “I have always been drawn to Iona. Even today, the ground there is holy. Wow. I felt you—the Masters—every time I was there!”

“Ye have great powers. They'll become greater with time.”

Allie barely heard. She shivered with excitement. “Sworn before God—meaning sworn before the gods, plural?”

“Aye. T’is one an’ the same.” He smiled a little at her again, this time sliding his hand down her arm. '”Defend God. Keep Faith. Protect Innocence—our vows are simple but strong. A Master serves God and Innocence, first an’ last, always.”

She snuggled up to his hard chest and lean torso now. “That almost sounds like a warning,” she said, thinking about where she wanted to put her tongue.

His gaze blazed as if he sensed her intentions. He moved his large hand into her hair and grasped it.

Her heart went wild at the forceful gesture. But she was still and their gazes locked. “I'm not done,” she said softly. He’d teased—even tortured—her all night. A little payback was in order.

He almost smiled. “Ye talk too much.”

“Admit it—you love it.”

“I'm nay fond of great conversation.”

She slid herself halfway over his body. “Why are you guys so top-secret?”

He pulsed against her quad and sighed. “There's a Code. T’is vast an’ even today, our scholars debate its many rules an’ meanings. But some rules are clear. The Masters are secret, Ailios, the Brotherhood is secret, an' that is our law.” He slid his hand down her back, cupped her buttock and hiked her into a very appropriate position. She gasped with pleasure: he grinned. “Do ye still wish to talk?”

It had become really difficult to think, but she whispered. “Did you control my orgasms last night?”

His eyes widened with innocence. '”How can a man do that?” He grasped her waist and gave her a lazy, sensual look.

“Hmm....someone needs a comeuppance.”

He gave in to a chuckle. “It's up, lass, and ye ken.”

She sat on his hips and his eyes tinned even lighter and brighter. “Why did the Ancients forbid your telling the world about who you are and what you do?”

He was now annoyed. Instead of answering her, he nuzzled her breasts and caught her nipple with his teeth. He tugged.

“Be good and I won't tease,” Allie breathed.

He sighed. “The Code was written afore St. Columba, lass, an’ I dinna ken the reasons behind it. But in past ages, t’was a grave heresy to consort with the old gods—an’ to have godly powers. In that time, men were outlawed, excommunicated, hanged or burned for such sins. No Master then would walk openly. Today, we dinna walk openly, either.”

Allie slid off of him, ignoring his surprise. This was too damned important. “We need you guys, desperately!” she cried, startling him anew. “Damn it, Royce, more of you guys need to be here, in the twenty-first century, helping us, helping Healers like me, even helping CDA! Forget the antiquated rules. It is so hard healing when I have to worry about another demonic attack behind my back. It's so hard watching so many innocent people die.” She added grimly, “I can't save everyone by myself.”

He was sitting, too, a magnificent sight. “Evil preys on the Innocent in every age, Ailios. Pleasure crimes have been sung about by the ancient bards an' there's a need for Masters in the past, too. There are Masters in every time.” He added softly, his gaze locked with hers. “I’m sorry ye have been alone so long.”

Allie looked up at him and saw his intense, searching stare and couldn't decide what it all meant. But there was so much hope. The good guys had superheroes on their side, too. Battles had been lost, bait the war wasn't over, not by a long shot.

And she wasn't alone anymore.

Her heart seemed to be singing a very happy song.

A seductive smile began. He said softly. “Ye may be holy an’ ye have the gift of white power, but yer Innocent, too.” And he reached for her.

Allie went into his arms, astride his hips. As he pushed slowly against her buttocks, she felt faint with impending pleasure. “What does that mean, exactly,” she whispered. She shifted and began rubbing herself over his massive length.

“I’m sworn to protect Innocence. I'm sworn to protect ye.” He grasped her hips and held her still.

She seized his wrists. “I like your idea of protection.”

“I thought ye might,” he said, holding her so she could not move. Very slowly, he began to penetrate up ward. So much pleasure crested, hollowing her. “It's my turn,” she gasped, “to be the tyrant.”

He laughed and flipped her onto her stomach, pushing even deeper as he did so. “I dinna think so,” he said.

Allie couldn't protest. There was too much rapture trying to explode. “Let me come!”

"Aye,” he gasped.

WHEN ALLIE AWOKE the second time that day, his side of the bed was empty and she was alone. The sun was high beyond her window. She grinned and wiggled her toes. She was a very feminine and sensual woman, but she had never felt so sexy and so desirable.

And she had never felt so happy, so light. But why not? She had the hunk of all ages, literally, as a lover—and he was also an überhero. In fact, they could go cruising together tonight. He'd fight the demons while she healed their victims. It was going to be perfect.

And her silly heart was grinning, too, swollen with happiness.

It felt suspiciously like love.

She slid from the bed, realizing this delirious high was just that. She was falling in love with her golden, not-so-medieval hero. She had thought herself immune to love, and had even wondered if her heart was somehow defective. She had rationalized that love was not apart of her very definite Fate, but apparently she had been wrong.

She laughed and as she showered and dressed, she hummed her favorite country songs, off-key and uncaring of how awful she sounded. She'd had the best sex of her life. Royce was to die for, and she couldn't wait to see him, exchange smiles and ask him to cruise with her that night. She couldn't wait to be in his arms and tell him how she felt—and that this was so new for her.

A tray had been set outside the bedroom door with coffee and scones and several newspapers. As it was
half past four
in the afternoon, the coffee was ice cold. She retrieved the papers, then headed downstairs for hot coffee and a gargantuan breakfast. She was famished.

She did not know the house, and she wandered from the great room past several salons before stumbling across the dining room Royce was seated at a long wood table, reading a newspaper, apparently waiting for her. Her heart tried to burst from her chest and she felt happy enough to float to the ceiling. He looked up and smiled at her then shot to his feet.

She walked up to him, thinking about his body, his kisses and how damned great he looked in a dark polo shirt and Italian trousers: he took her hands in his and pressed them to his chest. “Hi,” she breathed.

“Hallo,” he murmured back, his gaze terribly warm.

Absurdly it made her think about lots of great sex—not that she’d ever really stopped thinking about last night. “Wanna cruise with me tonight?”

He didn't seem to understand.

“I need to heal—you can fight the demons,” she said softly.

“I can think of better things to do tonight,” he murmured.

She flushed. “I'll bet you can.”

He guided her toward a chair. “Come have lunch with me. Then well plan our day. If ye like, I’ll take ye on a tour of the country.”

Our day, Allie sat, realizing eating would be impossible, because all she wanted to do was stare at him, drown in his masculine beauty and pinch herself to see if she was dreaming. He grinned, as if he guessed her thoughts. “Mrs. Farlane, Miss Monroe has come down to dine,” he called. Then he poured her coffee.

IT WAS LATE when they returned to Carrick, having spent the entire day touring the Highlands in his silver Lamborghini. He drove well hut fast and they hadn't talked very much—there was no need. Allie had been so happy just to be with him. They had stopped for lunch at the magnificent Dunain Park Hotel in Inverness, where the proprietors had fawned over them both—she had been recognized. And they had wandered about the ruins of Unquhart, where they'd also made love behind a ruined stone wall. Now, as Royce parked the car in one of his garages, Allie wandered back into the castle. Supper would be a late affair, but she didn't care.

She was about to go upstairs to freshen up and call home when she caught a flash of brilliant color from the corner of her eye. Posed to go upstairs, her heart leapt and she turned around to face the aura that had caught her attention. A strange man stood in the great room. He emanated the same warrior power as Royce; holy strength vibrated from him in red and gold waves of light. Testosterone charged his aura, too. But he also radiated a white, healing light, even if faintly. Most importantly, the blue and purple in his aura told her that his Karma was huge—but far from mastered. In fact, he would pay a high price for it.

Allie knew she was meeting another Master, and excitement began. He stared at her, as well, smiling. She came forward curiously. Taller than Royce, he had fair skin, dark hair and he was Hollywood-leading-man handsome. He was wearing a slick black leather jacket with distressed jeans and he was young—maybe her own age.

He grinned more widely at her, revealing two dimples, while his gaze slid over the ivory corset top she wore with a print circle skirt. “Hallo.”

Her interest peaked. He appeared modern, but she had a sudden sense that he was not from the present, in spite of his clothes. “Hi. You're a Master, too.”

His eyes widened. “Royce has talked very freely in yer bed.”

“I can see your aura and it reeks of a few pretty specific traits. I'm Allie.” She came forward and held out her hand.

He took it and, instead of shaking it, lifted it to his lips. I’m the lord of Awe, the earl of Lismore. But ye may address me as Aidan.” A grin followed his rather arrogant tone.

Allie wasn't all that surprised by the gallant, Old World kiss. Definitely for Tabby, she thought. “How old are you?”

He dropped her hand, amused, “I’m old enough for ye, lass.”

“I’m with Royce.”

“T’is evident, I’m pleased for him. But I willna mind much if ye decide Royce is too old for ye.” His smile flashed. “I’m only thirty an’ two years of age.”

This man was wearing modern clothes, but he was not a modern man. “What year did you come from?”

He stared, his smile fading. “That's an odd question.” Then, “I followed Royce from 1430.”

Before she could decipher that bit of startling information. Royce strode into the great room. And it was her Royce, the modern, insatiable, superseded 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 of years to find some pleasure outside of bed with a woman.”

Royce’s stem 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.