CHAPTER THIRTEEN #2
Allie stared as the blood welled from the thick pad there.
“Heal me,” he said.
She hesitated, then reached for her white light.
To her surprise, and then to her dismay, it took a vast effort to find it and bring it forth.
And then it took even more effort to stop the bleeding from the paltry cut.
By the time she’d stopped the cut from bleeding, she was perspiring and out of breath.
Slowly she looked up. How could this be happening?
“T’is forbidden with an ordinary maid—but I took power from ye, a great Healer.” He bent and began retrieving her clothes.
She touched him. “We won’t tell anyone. How long will this last?”
“I dinna ken.” He straightened, handing her the garments. “Neither one of us was very quiet, Ailios.”
She felt herself blanch. Royce had been roaring his head off in triumph after triumph—and she had been weeping mindlessly in ecstasy, too.
“Dress yerself,” he said.
THE SUN WAS EDGING upward into the sky, amidst many dark, ominous clouds, as they walked together toward one of the longer buildings, centered in the monastery.
Royce was so grim that Allie had become very worried, too.
And as they passed several Masters, also heading toward the rectory where they would eat, no one looked at them.
The contrast from the day before, when every Master had smiled invitingly at her, was glaring.
Allie’s unease increased.
Then she saw Seoc standing on the porch, arms folded, his gaze hooded but directed toward them. Allie sensed his speculation, his curiosity, his interest, and she felt herself blush. Seoc turned and walked inside. “Are we in big trouble?” Allie asked, low.
Royce didn’t have the chance to answer. MacNeil walked out of the rectory door, his face set in hard lines. He stepped down to the ground and asked Allie, “How are ye?”
She smiled brightly, falsely. “Fine—perfect, in fact.”
He made a sound. “Yer power’s compromised.”
Allie tensed. “It was my fault. You know—Adam and Eve, the whole bad woman thing.”
“Ye need rest. I’m hoping ye’ll be fine in a few hours.” He clasped her shoulder and gestured toward a small bungalow. “Ye can take my bed.”
Allie expected Royce to go ballistic, but he stood there, his face perfectly impassive, not uttering a word. “It really was entirely my fault and I am not going anywhere without Royce.” She shook his hand off.
MacNeil’s expression hardened. “Yer mother was nay so difficult.”
Allie shrugged.
MacNeil looked at Royce. “The Queen is on her way to Carrick.”
Royce started. “Yer sure?”
“Seoc arrived last night—he encountered her retinue on the highway.”
Allie looked back and forth between both men. “The Queen—as in the Queen of Scotland?”
MacNeil glanced at her. “Aye.” Then he said, “Royce needs to return to Carrick. Ye will stay here.”
Allie was in disbelief.
“Aye,” Royce said grimly.
“I’m going with you!” Allie retorted.
MacNeil firmly grasped her shoulder. “Ye canna be hurt again.”
She wrested free. “No one has hurt me. And certainly not Royce!”
Royce looked at her, his face so tight now, it might have been made of plaster. “MacNeil is right. I compromised yer power. T’was not my right. Ye’ll be safe here. Yer Fate is here, Ailios.”
Allie was furious. She stepped closer to Royce, facing MacNeil. “You do not control me. You do not own me and you cannot order me around! Where Royce goes, I go.”
“One night like last night an’ ye will turn yer back on the gods an’ Fate?”
Allie tensed in dismay. “It is about more than one night and you know it.”
“Aye, I ken ye love him deeply. Did ye not take vows—the same vow as yer mother did? Can ye turn yer back on any pure creature, human or beast, if in need?” MacNeil asked seriously. “Are ye not sworn to heal those who suffer? Can ye heal a broken bird now?”
She didn’t know what she could or could not do, and the lack of power was frightening. “I have never turned my back on suffering, and I never will,” she finally said.
MacNeil nodded, satisfied. “Then he leaves an’ ye stay.”
“No!” A terrible alarm filled her. “You don’t get it. I need Royce with me when I heal. He can guard me while I heal, MacNeil! And I swear, we will never cross the line in bed again!” She was panicking.
“There’s hundreds o’ Masters to guard ye,” MacNeil said bluntly. “I will summon Aidan to do so.”
Allie felt Royce’s heart rate surge. She turned and looked at him in despair. But he said, “Aidan will defend ye. I approve of the choice.”
This can’t be happening, Allie thought. “Why are you agreeing to this?”
His color rose. “I dinna ken what might happen the next time I bed ye.”
“What does that mean?” she gasped.
“He means he doesna ken what he will do when he canna think at all,” MacNeil said bluntly.
Royce didn’t trust himself. “I trust you,” she said. She stared and he stared back. “I have always trusted you. I always will.”
“No good,” Royce said slowly, “can come of yer being in my life.”
She cried out. “You’re turning away from me now?”
His face hardened, and that was answer enough.
Her heart seemed to break apart. She had not expected this.
And it was hard to think clearly, when she was beginning to hurt so much.
Royce was trying to protect her once again.
In a way, they were right. She and Royce had compromised her destiny last night.
She needed all of her powers back. But as soon as they were back, she could join Royce.
She would simply make certain he never took any power from her again.
And an image flashed in her mind’s eye, a terrible recollection of how his aura and his body had rapidly soaked up her white light the few times she had tried to heal him.
She faced MacNeil. “How long will you keep us apart?” she demanded.
MacNeil turned his intense green regard on Royce. “Until he forgets what yer power can bring him.”
Allie cried out. “What does that mean?”
Royce now refused to meet her eyes.
Allie knew she was never going to forget the passion of that night. Neither would Royce. “Like hell,” she spat. “This is temporary. As soon as I am better, as soon as my power is back, I am going to Carrick!”
“Ye canna have both worlds. Ye belong to mankind or ye belong to love. And we both ken yer choice.”
Allie felt dazed. The ground under her feet felt skewed.
Her entire life she had known her Fate was far bigger, far grander, and far more significant than finding a romantic or true love.
She’d never dreamed there would even be a choice.
But damn it, secretly she had dreamed of someone like Royce; she had dreamed of finding her soul mate.
“I’m sorry, lass,” MacNeil said. “I must think o’the greater good, not worldly passion an’ not worldly love. Say yer farewells.” He smiled grimly at her and walked back into the rectory.
Allie couldn’t move. Her heart shrieked in protest. Her mind, however, began reminding her that people needed her. The world would be a horrific place without her white healing powers.
Royce smiled sadly at her. “Ye’ll see me again. This is best for us all.”
“No! It’s not best! What’s best is having both worlds—you and me together—and my powers as strong as ever!” she cried, seizing his hands, afraid if she let go, it might be forever. “When will I see you again, Royce? When?”
He grasped her hands firmly. “Have I ever told ye that yer light is the most beautiful part of ye?” he asked softly.
She was crying. “That’s because you need my healing,” she whispered.
“I have lived this way for hundreds of years. Save yer healing for those who truly need it,” he said quietly.
She shook her head. He needed her healing—he needed her—and she needed him.
But mankind needed her, too. “We have just started, Royce. This cannot be the ending,” she implored, sliding her hands up to his chest. “Please, fight this stupidity with me. Help me find a way…why did you have to take power from me last night?”
“I dinna mean to,” he exclaimed. “I wanted yer body, Ailios, an’ then, it wasn’t enough.”
Allie leaned against him and he embraced her. “This is not the ending. This is the beginning.”
Against her hair, he said, “MacNeil is the wisest of men. And he must think of the gods, the Brotherhood an’ Alba. I’m no ordinary mortal man—an’ yer nay an ordinary woman. Ye belong to Alba, Ailios.” His tone had become strange and thick.
She looked up at him and saw that his gaze glistened. “Will you admit now that this saddens you? Will you admit now how much you care?”
He took her face in his hands. “I care.”
She inhaled and began trembling wildly.
Royce let her go. A moment later, she was staring at him as he walked through the buildings and out the monastery gates, upon the road that would take him away from her.
ALLIE SAT BENEATH a towering fir tree, her knees clasped to her chest. She had been left alone for the morning, which was just as well.
No matter how many times she told herself that she and Royce would be together—for a lifetime—and that they would get past this dreadful dilemma, just then, her optimism refused to arise.
Her heart hurt. She wanted to cry. She was uncertain and hope eluded her.
She just didn’t want anyone witnessing her grief and sorrow.
It began, finally, to rain.
She was wearing a plaid over her jeans and T-shirt and she pulled it closer.
Worse, she was worried about Royce, and it was more than fear over his hunting Moffat, the man who would one day kill him if they did not change the future.
She had a strong sense of unease, even of dread.
Something was wrong—she could feel it—and whatever was happening, it was about Royce.
She was never going to forget the look in his eyes when they’d said goodbye, or the sound of his voice when he’d told her he cared.
“Allie?”
At the sound of Claire’s voice, Allie leapt to her feet, whirling. Her senses were still dulled, she realized with some panic. She should have sensed Claire’s power as she approached.
Claire smiled hesitantly at her. “Come on. It’s cold and it’s about to pour.”