CHAPTER EIGHT #2
Ceit shook her head. “Nay a single bastard, an’ that be strange.” She then said, “No one knows why he’s unwed. There’s gossip, of course.”
Allie seized the bait. “What kind of gossip?”
“I heard it said there was a wife, long ago, but that doesna explain why he hasn’t married anew.”
“Royce was married?” Allie gasped in surprise.
“T’is said the marriage did not last.” She shrugged. “I have even heard it said that his wife be the reason he’s unwed to this day.”
“Why?” Allie cried.
“I dinna ken.” She smiled kindly. “And that be gossip, my lady, an’ mayhap untrue.”
Allie stared unhappily. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”
ROYCE HAD BEEN GONE all day. Allie learned he’d had to inspect some lands belonging to Morvern and that he would be back by supper and that was fine with her.
But she hadn’t gotten over the morning conversation with Ceit.
The maid’s assumptions that she was no different from his previous lovers worried her. Ceit had to be wrong.
When the sun began to lower, Allie went into the courtyard.
She was wearing her jersey print dress and high heels, aware that Royce would be inflamed by the tiny, clingy dress, and she made her way up to the ramparts so she could watch for him.
Every man she passed avoided looking at her; Allie felt ridiculously safe.
One long day apart after last night felt like weeks, no, months.
She stared past the crenellations, across the small midward and the outer walls, across the dangerous ravine.
When she went into his arms—when they made love—she would forget about the confusion Ceit had raised.
A group of horsemen were approaching and she recognized the huge white horse at its head. Her heart leapt and sped.
As the band got closer, his aura blazed, dwarfing everyone else’s. Allie tensed, fisted with desire. His aura was red-hot and she knew what it meant. He was coming for her.
She hung on the crenellated wall for one more moment, as the riders trotted over the main drawbridge. Royce glanced directly up at her, clearly sensing her presence on the walls.
Allie was still, an act of great self-control, because she wanted to rush down to the courtyard and leap into his arms—and then be dragged to his bed. She couldn’t wait. He kept staring until his charger disappeared beneath the gatehouse towers.
Allie finally gulped air, wet to the core, and carefully descended the stone stairs.
Anticipation made her feel faint. Royce had already dismounted and his steed was being led away.
He hadn’t been wearing armor, just the belted tunic and plaid, and his swords.
He looked every bit a warrior of the gods.
Not glancing her way, he started for the Great Hall.
Allie tensed. He hadn’t looked back at her, not once. But his senses were acute, like hers. He had to have known she was there. “Royce!” She hurried after him.
For one moment, his strides didn’t slow. Then he faltered, but as he turned, he beckoned to one of his men. “Neil.”
Allie was confused, because he was facing her now, but not looking at her.
A big man with flaming red hair approached. “My lord?”
“At dawn, take five men an’ pursue the poachers. Yer to bring them to me. I wish to stare in the eye the man who dares break my laws.”
“Aye, my lord.”
Allie stood beside Royce and the giant, waiting for Royce to acknowledge her. Why was he avoiding looking at her? Where was his sexy, knowing glance—and an even warmer smile? Her heart beat so hard it hurt. What was happening?
Neil left and they were alone. Royce finally looked at her in such a way it was as if he didn’t wish to really see her at all.
In fact, his glance was so brief, so cursory, that Allie would bet he didn’t even know she wore a sexy green and white print dress that hugged her every curve.
“Good eve,” he said, staring at the great room door instead of at her.
What the hell was this? Allie’s confusion became uncertainty. “Hey. Hi,” she managed, staring up at his profile. But it was an expressionless mask that could have been carved of stone.
He nodded, his gaze briefly flicking over her, avoiding her eyes. “I’m hungry. The day has been long.” But he waited for her to walk inside before he did so.
Allie couldn’t understand. Why wasn’t he looking at her? What was wrong? His aura remained hot and ready to go. “Hey.” She reached for his arm and touched it. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Had something terrible happened?
He shifted and her hand fell away. “Let’s sup,” he said, and he walked inside, leaving her standing alone.
Allie tried to remain confident. There was no reason for Royce to reject her. She didn’t care what Ceit had said earlier. His aura told her he was hot for her. He couldn’t possibly have tired of her.
But he was cold and impersonal, as if last night hadn’t happened, not any part of it.
SHE WALKED INTO THE HALL behind him, terribly unfamiliar with her anxiety.
Most of her life she had cruised through any and every situation with no doubts at all—especially if the situation was social or romantic.
Any anxiety she’d ever had had been related to her academics.
She felt so odd. He was going to have a drink and turn and smile at her, wasn’t he?
Royce was shouting for Ceit to bring the meal, while pouring a mug of wine. Then he hesitated, his back to her. Finally, Allie thought, trembling.
Ceit came running in with Peigi. She laid a trencher of meat and fish on the table, while Peigi went to Royce and unpinned his plaid, taking it from him.
When Royce didn’t turn to her to smile or even speak, Allie began to breathe hard.
Moisture came to her eyes. Was he rejecting her? Had Ceit been right?
Both women left, only to return with bread, cheese, grains. Royce, his shoulders stiff, finally turned. “Here.” He extended the mug of wine.
The last shreds of her optimism and confidence vanished. She walked up to him when it felt like she was walking into the mouth of an erupting volcano. “What is going on? Why aren’t you looking at me? What kind of greeting is this? I have missed you so much!” she cried, trembling.
He was looking at her now. Still offering the wine, his gaze moved from her eyes, where a tear slipped free, to her mouth and down the sexy jersey dress, right to her green suede high heels.
He lifted his gaze, and before his lashes came down, Allie saw bright heat.
“Do you wish for some wine?” he asked with so little emotion that he could have been asking a stranger.
Allie trembled, the urge to strike the wine from his hand huge. “No. I was thinking along the lines of a hug and a kiss.”
He drained the wine and refilled it, his back to her once more. “Tomorrow ye go to Dunroch.”
Allie tensed impossibly. Everything was wrong. He was not the lover she’d had in her bed last night; she didn’t know who he was. “Dunroch?” she managed to say. She wiped another errant tear. But why would he do this?
“Aye. My nephew Malcolm an’ his wife are there. Ye’ll be safe with them.”
Allie gasped. “Are you getting rid of me?”
He sat down at the table, heaping meat and salmon upon a trencher. “Ye need protection. I trust Malcolm. He’s a powerful Master.” He didn’t look at her, just started eating.
Allie was in disbelief. “Royce,” she began.
“Sit down an’ eat,” he said, shoveling food into his mouth.
Allie realized he was intent on ignoring her now. She stepped to the table and pulled his trencher from him, so abruptly that some meat and bloody gravy sprayed over the table and his lap. He looked up, his face hard. “Last night we made love. Today we’re done?”
“Aye.”
Shock began.
“Ye need protection an’ Malcolm will protect you with his life,” Royce said.
This could not be happening, Allie thought. “You did not use me,” she managed to say.
“I’m sorry.”
He had used her?
Allie did not have a temper. Now, she saw red. She hit him across the face, as hard as she could. And pain blinded her, bringing the tears she so wanted to release.
He leapt up and seized her throbbing hand, holding it tightly, to ease the pain. “I am sorry. I dinna make any promises…nary one.” Then he bellowed for the maids.
She tried to jerk her hand free, but it was impossible. “Let go.” But he hadn’t made a single promise and he hadn’t said he loved her—or anything even close.
He held on tightly for one more moment, as the maids came running in. They gasped at the sight of his stained tunic and the spilled food. “Get seawater for Lady Ailios. She has hurt her hand. I need a leine.”
As Ceit and Peigi vanished again, Allie jerked on her hand and he let it go. “Am I a fool?” she said, still reeling.
“Last night Carrick was attacked. The deamhanain want ye an’ they want ye alive,” Royce said flatly. His gaze was searching, but Allie couldn’t look at him.
“We had an incredible night, and you want someone else?” she asked.
He said, “I dinna ken if Moffat is behind the attack. He’s one o’the greatest deamhanain in Alba, an’ has been so since the earl of Moray was vanquished three years ago, by Malcolm an’ his wife. Some say he has the Duisean but I dinna think so.”
“Have I totally misunderstood? Have I completely confused you with the man I fell in love with in my time?” Allie cried, feeling like a pathetic fool.
Royce stared. Then he turned and walked to the fire. “Even if Moffat wasna behind the attack, that only means other deamhanain want ye—alive. Yer nay safe here. Malcolm will defend ye with his life, an’ ye will like Claire. She’s like ye. She’s from the future.”
Allie cried, “Last night was about love!”
Royce whirled. “Last night we fucked.” His eyes were finally ablaze. “I ken yer in love with me. Do ye wish to share my bed tonight—knowing that on the morrow ye’ll go to Dunroch an’ that I’ll leave ye there?”
She gasped again. He was ditching her. She could barely think. “You’re supposed to protect me.”
“Aye, protect ye—not take ye to bed.”