CHAPTER FOURTEEN #3
She inhaled, trying to control her temper. She knew she had to play along with Joan’s need for power and control, no matter how humiliating it was, but Joan needed a little comeuppance. “Then you are in for the time of your life! There is nothing and no one as good as Royce in bed, is there?”
Joan’s eyes widened.
“I mean—” Her fists clenched. “He pleasures you all night, doesn’t he? Again and again and again, from supper to dawn? And even when the sun is up, he still wants more?” Allie hoped Royce did not screw the Queen the way he did her. She was counting on it.
And when Joan’s gaze flickered with more displeasure, she knew she was right. “We are always too pleased to care about the time.”
Allie smiled grimly again. “And afterward, of course, is the very best part.” She turned her smile sugary sweet.
Ailios, cease.
Allie ignored him. “The very best part!”
Joan seemed incapable of smiling. “What do you mean?”
She blinked innocently. “I mean that the best part is afterward, when he holds you and whispers how much he loves you.”
Royce choked.
Joan was red.
Allie just kept smiling. Take that, you witch! He loves me.
Joan became enraged. “How dare you speak to Us in such a manner! How dare you claim that Ruari cares for you—and not for Us! We are his liege! He has sworn homage to Us on bended knee! Have you no care for your Fate, Lady Monroe?”
Dinna speak a single word!
And as Allie heard his warning, she felt his tension.
And she didn’t blame him. She had gone too far, but this woman was impossible.
Tyranny or not, it went against her nature to simply take her abuse and grovel at her feet.
But that was what she had to do, damn it, because there were no civil rights here.
And what did outshining the Queen really accomplish except to piss her off?
I should have held my temper, Allie thought.
Aye, ye should have, and ye must grovel now!
Allie inhaled. “I am sorry if I have offended you. I have foolishly fallen in love with Royce. But I understand he’s your lover and how I feel doesn’t count.
” She now felt Royce slump in abject relief.
“And I lied. He doesn’t hug me when we’re done and he never talks in bed.
It’s only sex. When he’s not with me, he’s with one of the housemaids. I want to be special, but I’m not.”
Royce actually inhaled loud enough for Allie to hear him.
Joan, however, did not soften. “We do not accept your apology. You are the most disrespectful creature We have ever met. Only the rumors that have reached Us keep you alive.”
Allie tensed with dread. She finally looked at Royce and he gave her a warning stare. She turned back to the waiting Queen.
“Show us your healing power,” Joan commanded. “Now.”
Allie stood very still, recalling Royce’s admonition that, under all circumstances, she must not reveal her powers to the Queen.
How she wished she could show this woman who really had power now.
Carefully she said, “If you had a fever, I would sit by your bed and wash your forehead with cool compresses, to lower the temperature of your body. If you hurt your wrist, I would place a tight bandage there, to speed the healing. Do you have an ailment I can soothe?”
Joan stared with anger. “We have heard how you saved a dying boy.” She turned and signaled to one of her ladies.
A moment later, a solider in uniform came into the hall, carrying what looked like a dead puppy in his hands. Allie cried out, for the pup wasn’t dead, but it had been clubbed and it was unconscious. It was badly hurt and eventually would die.
Ailios, no!
She shook with horror, overcome with compassion for the suffering dog, the urge to rush to it and instantly heal it overwhelming. She’d heard Royce, but could think of nothing other than how she must heal the black and white puppy.
“Heal the mutt,” Joan commanded.
Dinna do it.
Allie trembled, moving toward the soldier with the pup as if entranced. How could she turn from the vows she’d taken, before the Ancients and her mother?
She’ll take ye far from here. Ye’ll be her prisoner.
Allie stopped in her tracks. The spotted pup’s lashes flickered and she felt tears gathering as its pain washed over her, around her.
And she folded her arms tightly around herself.
“I can put the puppy in a soft bed, inspect it for broken bones and try to splint any,” she managed hoarsely.
“May I take the dog to my chamber and try to ease its pain?”
“Heal it now, before me and all the witnesses in this room,” Joan demanded.
Allie felt the tears falling down her cheeks. It was hard to speak. She hated Joan—she hated the soldier—for cruelly beating this tiny dog. “I can’t.”
Livid color diffused Joan’s face.
Royce stepped forward. “She canna heal such a wounded animal, Yer Majesty.”
Joan looked ready to break something—or order someone broken. “Get the animal out of here,” she snapped.
Allie gasped. “Let me take it to my room, please!”
But the guard was leaving and Joan turned a narrow blue gaze on her. “We will have the gown now.”
Allie froze.
Joan smiled cruelly. “Give Us the gown.”
Royce said tightly, “Ye canna treat my ward in such a manner.”
Joan looked at him. “You mean, your mistress? We will take her to court anyway, where she will learn respect. And We will treat her as We choose. Be pleased, Ruari, that We do not take her head, and that, mayhap, We will send her back to you sometime.”
He stood there breathing hard.
Allie looked at him. Don’t do anything. Let her have her moment of power.
Royce stood there, fighting his fury.
“Give Us the gown.”
Allie swallowed hard. Joan wanted to debase her, and she was succeeding.
It was unbelievable that she had to obey this monster of a woman.
Suddenly aware of the fact that several guards stood by the front door, she jerked on the zipper.
Then she let the red dress fall to the floor around her ankles.
Everyone stared.
Allie only wore a white G-string and she flushed with embarrassment. Somehow, she held her head high as she stepped out of the circle of fabric.
She felt Royce’s outrage.
She looked at him. It’s all right, Allie tried. I hate the stupid dress anyway.
His aura was the dark, deep, violent red of a man ready to erupt in fury. But he unpinned his plaid and whipped it about Allie’s bare body. Allie had never been more grateful for anything. Then he retrieved the gown and handed it to Joan.
Joan stared at her and then at him. “Tonight you will come to me, Ruari. And you will not be thinking of Lady Monroe. She will go to the Tower.”
Royce didn’t speak. Incredibly his face was now a mask of indifference. He inclined his head.
Joan clapped her hands. A lady ran to her and Joan handed her the dress, then she and her women marched out.
Allie turned into his arms. “Bring me the puppy,” she cried frantically.
ALLIE HUGGED THE PUP, who licked her cheek enthusiastically. Healing the dog had taken about three minutes, an indication that she had her powers back.
Then, the pup nestling in her lap as she sat in her bed, stroking it, she thought about the bitchy Queen. There was no question as to what she must do.
She was a Healer and her power was white. Just then, she wished it were black and that she could cast spells like Tabby, or even Sam, who was not that good at them.
But she wasn’t a witch and she had never cast a spell in her life. However, she was the granddaughter of a great and powerful god. She had to try to use her power to incapacitate Joan.
It went against her very nature and even her every instinct. She had been put on this earth to help people. Joan was a very unpleasant, power-mad woman, but she wasn’t evil. But Joan had made herself clear. She was going to use Royce as if he were a gigolo. Allie wasn’t going to share her man.
As Allie stood, leaving the puppy napping on her bed, unhappy with what she had to try to do, she suddenly saw her mother in the mirror over a chest. Her reflection was frightened.
She whirled, but no one was standing behind her. She faced the mirror, breathless, but the image of Elasaid was gone.
So much had happened since yesterday afternoon, when she had thought she’d seen her mother at the shrine on Iona. She’d forgotten to mention it to Royce—she’d pretty much forgotten it herself.
“Mom, what is it?” she cried. Oddly she was starting to think of her mother by her Gaelic name—her real name, not the English translation.
Elasaid did not reappear.
This was the third time her mother had visited her since the South Hampton fund-raiser. What did that mean? Allie was certain she’d been warning her last time, but this time, her message, if there was one, had been impossible to decipher. However, there had been no mistaking her expression of fear.
Allie scooped up the pup, which wriggled happily, licking her cheek. She hugged it, wishing she could communicate with Elasaid, when she felt evil.
It stopped her in her tracks.
It was coming from the hall below.
Not the great, overpowering evil of someone like Moffat, for this presence was weaker, far different, and very human. Allie felt so much depraved lust. Not for power and pleasure, but for physical pain and monetary gain.
Allie hurried downstairs toward the great room.
There she faltered in surprise, because Aidan was with Royce.
They were standing by the table, a small, slender man clad in English dress with him.
His black stench turned her stomach instantly and Allie knew he was the source of the evil she had sensed.
He had seen her, too. As he stared at her with dark, soulless eyes, she knew he could not wait to find someone or something to torture. She knew he’d done so a thousand times, and would do so again.
Royce strode to her, his face hard and grim.