Page 35 of Dark Rival

Allie got it and laughed.

Royce shoved his plate at them both. “Ye seduce her at the breakfast in my home?”

“If I wished to seduce her, I’d have done so last night.”

“Are you always so suspicious?” Allie was actually amused. If she didn’t know better, she’d think Royce was jealous. “We’re just having a friendly conversation.” She kept glancing at his strong, bare forearms. He wore a huge gold cuff on his right bicep. It was damned sexy. She knew what that arm felt like, too. He might be a helluva lot younger than her Royce, but she was pretty certain his body hadn’t changed at all. “I am a friendly person.”

His eyes narrowed. “Ye weren’t so cheery yesterday.”

“Yesterday I was dealing with a boor. I’m cheery now.”

Royce shook his head, his eyes filled with annoyance. “Ye called me an ass yesterday, an’ now, ye call me a boor?”

If the shoe fits, she thought. A perplexed expression crossed his face. “You are my gracious host. You do know what that means?”

Aidan laughed.

Royce flushed. “Do I appear the village idiot? I ken yer English words, even with yer strange accent.”

Allie hesitated. “I don’t want to fight. I’m sorry.” She finally smiled, meaning it. “I didn’t travel back in time to fight with you.” She thought about her previous expectations that she would find him alive in 1430 and leap into his arms and his bed. “I was hoping we could start over, you know, have a truce.”

He started. “A truce? There’s no war.”

“Good.” Allie smiled again—and this time, their gazes met and held.

Her heart turned over hard. He continued to stare, not searchingly, just boldly and simply. He didn’t smile. Allie felt his pulse rising in his loins. She would never understand his decision last night to forsake her for someone else. Of course, it was for the best.

“Did something happen last night?” she asked. He tore his gaze away from her eyes. “I always sense evil. I can’t imagine sleeping through a crisis.”

“No deamhanain attacked—the deamhanain will never attack Carrick.” He lifted a jug, filled a mug and handed it to her.

Allie was surprised by the gesture. She smelled beer. “No, thanks.” His gaze lifted and their eyes held again. “Then why were you brooding last night?” She almost added, if you were brooding.

“Ye have enemies.” He reached for a trencher laden with bread, smoked fish and cheese. “Will ye break the fast?”

Having eaten the equivalent to about three meals the night before, Allie wasn’t hungry. “I beg your pardon. I don’t have enemies—not human ones. I’m a Healer. I have friends—tons of them, in fact.” She added, “Because I’m a nice person, in case you haven’t noticed.”

His gray gaze had drifted to the edge of her corset top. She hadn’t been able to help herself and she had pulled it down as low as possible when getting dressed earlier. Another half inch would be immodest even for her. Tearing his eyes away, he said, “Moffat, a great deamhan, hunts ye or thinks to use ye against me.”

Allie looked at him, ready to laugh. Then she sobered, because Royce was dead serious.

Allie became alarmed. Moffat had killed Royce in the future. He was shrewd and dangerous. He’d seen one moment of opportunity—a moment she had inadvertently created—and he had taken it. “Moffat can’t possibly have any interest in me.”

Royce’s brows lifted. “Yer a great Healer. He may have powerful pages from the Book o’ Healing, which belongs to the Brotherhood.”

“It was stolen centuries ago,” Aidan told her, “from its shrine on Iona.”

Allie tried to put the puzzle together. “I’m a Healer, but I don’t know anything about the Book of Healing. I am certain Moffat isn’t after me.”

Neither man appeared convinced. Worse, they exchanged looks she did not comprehend. “Moffat needs to die,” Royce said flatly, brooding now.

“I don’t think you should hunt Moffat, Royce!” Allie was so alarmed at the notion that she seized his hand. Touching his skin was electric. Instantly she released him. “Please.” She tried to smile but was so worried, she failed.

He stared. “Ye dinna think me strong enough to vanquish him?”

She knew when to soothe ruffled male feathers. “Of course I do!”

He made a harsh sound. “I’m nay afraid to die, even now, an’ I’ll do what I must do.” He stood.