Page 46 of Dark Rival

He was deafened by the roar of his heart. Her pure white aura pulled at him, entrancing him, the way her hot sex and stunning beauty did.

She wore a long skirt in a bold, bright pattern of black, red and blue flowers on white, and the smallest bodice once again, although this one covered her shoulders, barely. And he knew she wore the chemise Aidan had brought for her, the pink lace garment that would only cover her breasts, the one he was going to burn, for the beaded and lace straps stuck out from the tunic.

His blood rushed to his loins; it heated his mind. He knew she felt him but she did not look his way. She was completely focused on healing Coinneach.

He fought the blinding urge to stride to her, gather her up in his arms, and end this mad mating ritual of pursuit and flight, seduction and denial. Why not?

He could not go on much longer this way. He had needs—and only she could relieve them, he was certain. All he had to do was put a stone wall around his heart.

They could share rapture—and nothing else.

His mind felt peculiar and dizzy now. He focused, fighting past the blinding red lust.

She was healing a toothache?

He breathed hard a final time and strode forward, in some small degree of control. “Ailios.”

She now clasped old Coinneach’s face in her hands and smiled at the aged warrior. “It will never bother you again,” she said softly.

Coinneach’s face burst into an expression of amazement. “My lady! T’is been over a year and now, there’s no pain!”

Ailios smiled sweetly at the old man. As if she’d smiled at him that way, Royce’s heart turned over, hard.

“It was quite the infection. It will not come back. Go home and enjoy your evening,” she said.

Highlanders were proud and hard, every last one of them, high or low, but he dropped to his knees and kissed the hem of her skirt. “Thank ye. Bless ye. Yer a saint.”

Ailios laughed, the sound like shallow spring water rippling over moss-strewn stones. “I am not a saint.” Her smiled faded. She touched his shoulder, encouraging Coinneach to rise, and finally, she turned her large, dark eyes on Royce.

He stared back. He had asked her not to display her powers. Three villagers had just watched her heal old Coinneach. And he was certain they were waiting their turn to have their particular ailments relieved.

She bit her lip. But something eager and bright flickered in her eyes, a beautiful light, like joy, and he lurked and saw how happy she was to see him, even after only a few hours. “Hallo, a Ruari.”

He tensed impossibly. They had been speaking English together. He knew, however, that she understood every word of Gaelic he or anyone else spoke. His heart lurched at the sound of the old tongue flowing like honey from her lips, just as it thundered in pleasure that she was joyous to see him.

He looked more closely at her. Her lips were painted with something pink and shiny. He wondered what it tasted like.

He wondered what she tasted like, and didn’t feel like waiting another five hundred and seventy-seven years to find out. “Yer healin’ a tooth.”

“The infection was severe,” she breathed, worry crossing her face. Her gaze drifted to his bulging leine. She wet her lips.

He lurked.

She was recalling the taste of his manhood. She was recalling how very close they’d come to “making love” that morning.

He took another calming breath. “An’ the rest o’ them?”

She was reluctant. “I don’t know how this happened. They’ve been coming to see me all day. Toothaches, the common cold, cuts, bruises, aching backs!” And now, the joy that had lit up her eyes was gone. She was filled with apprehension.

He counted to three. He gestured at the three waiting villagers. “Is anyone severely ill?”

“No.”

He turned. “Lady Ailios willna see ye today. G’day.”

The two men inclined their heads and the girl curtsied. They all seemed disappointed, but they left immediately. Royce folded his arms across his chest and slowly turned to face her.

He tried not to think about how beautiful she was in the bright skirt and the small white bodice with the daring chemise beneath. He tried not to think about the fact that he’d bet his life she wore the tiny pink thong, too. “Ye heard the boy calling ye a witch this morning.”