CHAPTER FIVE
“WHAT CAN I BE OFFERIN’ YE, my lady?” the pretty blond housemaid asked.
Allie looked grimly around the stone chamber.
A plain bed with four thick posts, covered with wool blankets and a thick fur, was against the wall.
Two rustic wood and wicker chairs faced a hearth, where a fire burned.
A small wolf skin was on the floor near the bed; the rest of the stone floor was bare.
The only attractive piece of furniture in the room was a handsome carved chest by the bed, with brass studs in an interesting design, a pitcher and mugs set on it.
The windows were small and narrow and the light outside was dull, indicating that the sun was finally setting.
She shivered, already cold in her heart as well as her bones.
“My lady?”
Allie turned. A plaid in Royce’s colors—hunter-green, black and silver—was folded over the back of one chair. She took it and wrapped it around her trembling body. She thought about how dirty she was. “Is a hot bath at all possible?”
The blond smiled, as if relieved. “Aye, ye’ll have yer bath an’ a good supper, too.” And shyly, she curtsied. “My name be Ceit, if ye need anything else.”
Allie raced after her as she went to the door. “Wait.”
Ceit paused, surprised.
Allie had to take a breath. All of her composure was in shreds and worse, she felt despair. “Which of you is his mistress?” Every maid she’d passed on her way upstairs had been young and pretty. It was quite the coincidence.
Ceit’s eyes widened; she blushed. “He doesna keep a mistress, my lady.”
Allie didn’t believe it. “Are you going to tell me he lives like a monk?”
Ceit’s color increased. “He be a man, lady, an’ our lord. He has whomever he wishes.”
Allie hugged herself. She should not care.
The medieval Royce was not even remotely like Royce in the twenty-first century.
A gulf of six hundred years separated them, and in that time, a man could and would change, becoming entirely different.
The Royce she had left a moment ago was barbaric to the bone.
He gave new meaning to the word heartless.
When he had left the hall she had known, with all of her being, that he had gone out to get laid. And she was in disbelief.
He didn’t want her. He emanated hot, sexy lust every time he came close. Virility dripped from his body like sweat dripped from other men. But he didn’t want her, otherwise, a barbarian like that would have come on strong. It was the final straw.
Ceit hesitated and left.
Now what?
She stumbled to the chair and curled up there.
The fire could not warm her. She had never had such heartache.
But she had never been in love before. Was this how her boyfriends and lovers had felt, when she had eventually ended things?
She hoped not! She had always tried to be kind when saying goodbye.
She had always cared. And Tabby had put a few of her exes under a new love spell.
No one should have to feel this way.
She started to cry.
She tried to remind herself that the man who was downstairs somewhere, undoubtedly with another woman, in the heat of really amazing sex, was not the man she loved.
The man she loved was dead. She had watched him die before her very eyes, fighting the evil Satan had sent to hunt them all everywhere, in every time.
The only problem was, she knew with her heart that they were one and the same.
What was she going to do?
She had spent less than twenty-four hours with the modern Royce, but she had fallen in love with him. He was the love of her life; she loved him even now and she would never get over him—nor did she want to.
There wasn’t ever going to be anyone else. No one else could possibly compare to her golden warrior. She’d remain faithful to him and his memory until she died.
Except, she wasn’t dead yet and this wasn’t over. Time travel opened up all kinds of possibilities. Her tears ceased and she sat up straighter. That love was worth fighting for. Why was she wallowing in hurt?
What had Tabby said again—exactly?
Allie breathed deeply, trying to think, her determination returning.
Tabby had said her life would be turned upside down—and she had been right.
She had said someone would die—and Royce had been murdered shortly thereafter.
But the Sun had lain beneath Death on the table.
From the ashes, there will be a new day.
Allie groaned and stood. Of all the times for Tabby to be cryptic! What the hell had that meant, exactly? She was one hundred percent certain she was knee-deep in ashes right now.
She looked at the fire burning in the stone hearth. She was in a small, cold chamber in a fifteenth-century castle. Time travel was a fact.
She had not expected such a cold, even hostile welcome, or that Royce would be a chauvinistic and heartless pig. Currently he was the jerk of all time, but one day, he would be her lover—and the love of her life. She corrected herself. He was the love of her life, he just didn’t know it yet.
There was hope.
She was a Healer before anything else, but she was a fighter, too.
She’d been fighting demons since she was thirteen, and she’d managed to survive evil, in spite of her small size and her lack of warrior power.
Fighting was instinctive for her. She was going to fight for a future with Royce.
She was going to figure out how to prevent his murder in September 2007.
And somehow, she’d survive his current and very unpleasant self.
Allie breathed hard. Her composure had returned, and so had her optimism.
But then, she was an optimist by nature.
Every time she failed to save a vic, it hurt and she cried.
But the next night, she was out cruising again, trying to save the next Innocent.
Giving up was not in her nature, not now, not ever.
She just couldn’t help wishing she’d see a glimmer of her Royce somewhere behind that tunic and plaid. She loved the modern Royce, but she didn’t like his antiquated self at all. Did Mr. Medieval even know how to smile?
And why wasn’t she the one in his bed? Not that she’d let him touch her, after he’d been such a complete jerk!
She groaned. He was with another woman, she was still in love with his future self, and obsessed with his present self. Not good, but considering the high stakes, she’d have to deal.
Her door opened. As two lanky boys lugged in a wooden tub, keeping their eyes firmly on the stone floor, Allie smiled, her attention turning to her imminent bath—which she desperately needed.
Their shyness amused her. Two men carrying buckets of steaming water followed.
They kept their gazes averted, too, and Allie became suspicious.
Surely these men hadn’t heard about Royce almost emasculating that giant outside of the gatehouse?
“Thank you.” She smiled at them. “Thanks so much.”
They nodded but didn’t look at her or even speak as they left.
Allie decided she should not be surprised—Royce probably instilled the fear of the gods in everyone at Carrick.
Then she looked at the steaming bath and realized she’d have to put on her dirty clothes when she was done.
Either that, or dress like the Highland women in those long, shapeless linen dresses.
She had a moment of doubt. Would Royce even look twice at her in such clothing?
She told herself that she was pretty no matter what she wore—and a good, decent person with a big heart.
But Mr. Macho Man didn’t give a damn about any woman’s heart—he was interested in their bodies.
She was sure of that! And she was shocked because she was suddenly uncertain and insecure.
She had never worried about appearing attractive before, or about attracting anyone.
If at all possible, clothes from the future would be a big help.
Instantly she thought of Aidan, who liked to shop.
He hadn’t seemed bothered by her anger toward him.
Maybe she could convince him to help her out.
She was pretty certain he was the Knight of Swords in Tabby’s reading.
In fact, he was truly decent—it was too bad the medieval Royce didn’t have any of his charm or consideration.
A knock sounded on her door. Allie sensed male power, but not Royce’s. She wasn’t surprised to find Aidan standing there, smiling. There was a slight, mischievous gleam in his very blue eyes. He was still wearing jeans and his beloved jacket.
Allie grinned. “Telepathy? You knew I want to talk to you?”
“I heard ye thinking my name—quite a few times.” He shrugged but his bright gaze veered to the hot tub. “I do hope ye need someone to scrub yer back?”
Allie laughed. “When have you ever scrubbed a woman’s back—without doing anything else?”
He grinned back at her. “Did I say I’d only wash ye?” But his gaze was direct.
This man could seduce a nun, Allie thought. “I’m taken, otherwise I’d share the bath with you.”
His smile flashed. “Aye, I ken. Royce is a fool in this time, eh?”
Allie tensed, imagining him with another woman.
Aidan touched her arm lightly. “I warned ye.”
“Yes, you did.” She couldn’t smile now. “What is his problem?”
“Ye ken, he has no heart. Not yet.”
“I can’t even imagine how that is possible. You have a heart.”
Aidan’s dimples deepened. “I like women, lass. I canna help but be nice to ye. Otherwise my bed would be cold.”
Allie hoped Royce did not become charming when he was intent on seduction. She hated the idea of even his medieval self charming anyone but her.
And Aidan seemed to read her thoughts. He said quickly, “He’s cold in his soul, lass. He doesna speak warmly to anyone.”
“Why?”
Aidan shrugged. “Ye’ll be stayin’ on a bit, then?”
She became serious. “I won’t let Moffat kill him in the future.”
Aidan sobered. “That be six hundred years from now—a very long time.”
“So you won’t help me?”