Page 134 of Dark Rival

“Stop,” she cried. She stepped between them and said urgently, “MacNeil, please warn Royce now. Moffat has murdered him in 2007—I am so afraid for him!”

MacNeil nodded, then said to Ruari, “Ye have but a moment with her.” He strode out.

She wrung her hands and then, slowly, turned to him.

Their gazes locked. Looking into her dark eyes, he wanted to possess all of her, not just her body. “Are ye mine? In what time?” he demanded. “The fifteenth century?”

She nodded. “Yes, we’re together in 1430.”

He was dismayed. “That’s in eight hundred years!”

She nodded, staring at him as if soaking up every detail of his face and hoping to memorize them.

He went still. How could he let this woman go back to the future? So much desire roared. But even as it did, he thought that he must not have any real involvement with any woman, ever again. Still, he hardly needed to be fond of her to spend the night with her.

His mind was made up. They would share one careless night. “I need ye, lass. I canna wait eight hundred years.” He pulled her close, so she could feel his very swollen shaft as it pulsed between them. “Tell me yer name.”

“Ailios.” Tears rose. “I love you so much. You’re so different—you’re the same! Royce, you’re so young!”

He started at her bold declaration, then even more triumph began. He was loved by this brave, pure woman! “I’m nay too young, Ailios, an’ I’m glad to show ye.”

She smiled and touched his face. “But I’m not yours yet. And you don’t love me yet. You love Brigdhe. You’re married still.”

Had the day been less grim, her words would have amused him. “Ailios, I’m a warrior. Warriors dinna have soft hearts. I’m fond of Brigdhe—t’is my duty to be fond o’ her. But it doesna matter now. My marriage ended the day Kael captured her.” And just so she did not get the wrong idea, he added, “I willna marry again.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “I thought you loved her,” she gasped.

“Ye speak so strangely,” he exclaimed, finally smiling ever so slightly. “Ye may ken me in the future, but ye dinna ken me now.”

She flung her arms around him and buried her face in his chest, as if what he had said had pleased her greatly. His heart thundered. The pressure increased in his loins. This was very different. It might not be so easy to walk away from her when they were done.

“Then I am the only woman who has ever had your heart,” she whispered, looking up at him, her smile saucy. But her gaze remained moist.

“Ye talk too much,” he said, tilting up her chin. He felt her tense.

“Ruari, let me heal you.” Even as she interrupted him, he felt a wonderful warmth seep into his shoulder. It was so pleasing he went still, surprised.

She smiled, her small hands on him now. “Hmm, you like that, don’t you?”

He looked at her, having heard the very sultry note in her tone, his cock so stiff now it truly hurt him. “Very much,” he said softly, answering her smile with one of his own. And it felt good to smile after the anguish of the past weeks.

She sent more warmth into his shoulder, and he was aware of her blood pounding with stunning force inside her small, beautiful body. He allowed himself the pure enjoyment of being attended by her, of having her purity heal him, and of sexual anticipation. It must happen sooner rather than later. He needed her—and he was not a patient man. In fact, he wasn’t sure he had ever been so hot.

She began working on his flayed arm. He looked at his shoulder and saw only the bloody leine, in scraps there. He pulled at the linen and saw his flesh knitted together, the scar vivid and red. The skin on his arm was pink and new.

She had dropped her hands. “I had better go,” she said thickly. “It’s forbidden to change the past.”

He caught her and reeled her in. “How can ye go when yer body is hot an’ wet, achin’ fer mine?”

She inhaled. “This is so hard. But what I feel for you now is half of what I feel for you in the fifteenth century. Ruari, you need me in that time. I won’t let Moffat murder you! And…you don’t love me yet.”

He stared, perplexed, his gaze searching hers. “Ye have said twice that I love ye in yer time. I ken ye believe it. Did I say so? Because this day I have decided to never allow myself affection again.”

She was dismayed. “I am getting the feeling that the past won’t change—and you are going to beat yourself up with guilt for the next eight hundred years, no matter what!”

He tensed, displeased. Did she read his mind? How else would she know he was consumed with guilt? “I’m tired o’ talk,” he warned. “An’ I willna wait eight hundred years to take ye to my bed. I want one night. Surely ye can give that to me?” And he let his new power of enchantment free, seducing her with his eyes and his will.

He felt an urgency arise in her. He smiled, leaning close, stroking her back, her hip. “Can ye really resist me? I want to pleasure ye till ye beg me to stop.”