Page 13 of Dark Rival

Her heart exploded at a few very interesting, tempting and graphic mental images far too racy for any Jockey ad. She was off track again. She could not resist walking over to the bedside table and looking in the single drawer. No condoms. Did this guy live like a monk?

Stop it, she told herself, her heart accelerating impossibly. The real question was, why was she in a modernized castle? Her warrior was the real deal. He’d had supernatural powers. He’d been able to use energy the way the demons did. He could sense evil the way she did. And he’d used that sword like a medieval knight, making movie action heroes seem inept.

Had she imagined being hurled across the pastures?

She walked over to the other bedside table and searched it, with no results. And the photo caught her eye.

Allie picked it up and saw her warrior and was so relieved she sank onto the bed. It was him. She felt as if she’d just found her long-lost best friend—no, her long-lost lover. He had a buzz cut in the photo, but he was still the hottest hunk she’d ever laid eyes on. And he looked as strong and capable as he was, like a commando who wouldn’t think twice about crossing enemy lines to take out a terrorist leader.

His friends were drop-dead gorgeous, too. The pretty woman was clearly with one of his friends, not that she was really worried about competition.

She stared more closely and her confusion renewed itself. He looked different. He was only in his early thirties, but in this photo looked ten years older. He seemed harder, as if he’d lived through so much and had no soul left….

Damn it, had he been in costume after all?

The warrior who’d appeared last night had been a genuine überhero, but had he been from the present, in spite of the swords, the tunic, the boots?

A knock sounded softly on the door. From the light, tentative sound, she knew it was a woman outside the door. “Come in.” She glanced at the photo a third time. That was her warrior; was he medieval or not?

A plump woman in a domestic’s uniform smiled at her, bearing a tray. Allie smelled the coffee and warm bread and realized she was starving. “His lordship didn’t leave instructions. I must say, I was surprised to realize we had a guest.” But she smiled very pleasantly. “I am Mrs. Farlane.”

His lordship, Allie thought, realizing he was titled. A nice little perk. “I’m Allie.” She smiled. “My visit wasn’t really planned. I mean, one minute we’re at a party in South Hampton, the next, here we are! Thank God for jets,” she added quickly. This woman couldn’t possibly know her employer traveled through time and fought the evil monsters of the night.

Mrs. Farlane placed the tray down on the ottoman by the bed. “Lord Royce doesn’t have a jet. I hadn’t realized he was in South Hampton. He told me he’d be in Edinburgh for a few days.” She seemed unhappy to be out of the loop.

His name was Royce! Of course it was, for the demon had called him Ruari, the Gaelic version of such a name. “My dad has an Astra.” How could Royce be in Edinburgh when they’d been at her Long Island summer home last night? Or had she been sleeping for days? “I’m sorry, what day is it?”

Mrs. Farlane gave her a queer look. “It’s the sixth, dear. I didn’t see any suitcase.”

She had only slept for half of a night. “It was very spontaneous. I’m afraid everything I have with me is on my back.” Clothes, Allie thought, her heart sinking. “Um, where exactly am I?”

Mrs. Farlane blinked.

Allie said quickly, “Royce is a tease! He said he was taking me to the Highlands, and that it was a surprise!”

“We’re at Carrick Castle, my dear, in Morvern—a bit north and west of Glasgow.”

Allie breathed hard—she had been right. “Iona is to the west.”

“Yes, and it’s a lovely island, just a few hours by car and ferry.”

Allie’s heart raced. She’d make a detour before she went home—whenever that was. “When will Royce be back?”

“In the early evening.”

She went still, except for her heart, which now thundered with unbearable excitement. He was coming back and she couldn’t wait to see him. “Are there any shops nearby? I am going to need a change of clothes.” She realized she wanted to find an outfit that would knock him senseless. She had never worried over what to wear to impress a man before.

“The best shopping in Scotland is in Glasgow. Tom can drive you. His lordship pays him a fine wage to be his chauffeur, but then he drives himself everywhere.” She shook her head. “All those cars. How can a man own so many cars? He’s got three garages down the hill!”

“My best friend is that way with shoes,” Allie said. She’d have to call Tabby. She turned to the silver pot and poured coffee and took a sip, black. It was heaven—and that night would be heaven, too.

Every inch of her quickened. She was as excited—and as nervous—as a teenager. It was absurd. It was wonderful!

But she did need a change of clothes and she didn’t have her purse. On the other hand, she was very recognizable. Designers often begged her to take their clothes and were always sending her items, like the gown she was wearing now. She refused to spend ridiculous sums on clothes and accessories, not when that money could go to charity. Maybe she could find a new designer and buy what she needed on credit. She’d figure it out, one way or another.

But there was one more problem.

Mrs. Farlane, however, solved it. “My daughter is about your size, dear. She’s fifteen, but you can borrow some jeans and a T-shirt. Tom will show you the best shops. As his lordship’s guest, our merchants will be thrilled to help you.”