Dark Rival by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online Page B

one she hoped Royce would really appreciate. She hadn't had any trouble mating her purchases. Her driver was well-known, and a few merchants had eagerly charged items to Royce s account, while others had given her what she wanted. She had been recognized by everyone and when she got home, she would send thank-you notes and checks. She'd also called Tabby, but she hadn't been home, and Allie had left a message that she hoped was coherent.
    She felt like she was fifteen and about to go on her first date.
    Bui considering she had never felt this way about anyone, maybe that was normal.
    Barely able to stand the anticipation, she stared across the large room and out the windows, into the cobbled courtyard outside. As she did, a small, dark sport car appealed from the gatehouse, clearly having just entered the castle walls. Allie stood, her heart turning over hard.
    He was driving a Ferrari, of course he was.
    He probably had a Lamborghini, too.
    She couldn't breathe.
    The car stopped and the door opened' she saw her warrior get out.
    Desire hollowed her. She felt faint.
    His unmistakable aura blazed red and gold, with some blue and green, the aura of a powerful warrior blessed by the Ancients. This time, it was bursting with sexual heat.
    He was clad all in black, in a fitted tee and. easy trousers. As he closed the car door, lie glanced at the window—and Allie knew he was looking into the room and right at her.
    Allie didn't move. She felt his excitement—or was she feeling hers? Hurry, she thought.
    He started around the car and vanished from her view. A moment later, he appeared on the threshold of the hall and his desire made her feel weak and faint. It was explosive. And there was no doubt. It was him.
    His silver eyes locked with hers, blazing.
    She wet her lips to say hello, but then said nothing at all.
    “My lord, when will you be sitting down to supper with Miss Monroe?”
    Allie couldn't look away from him. He was as big and hunky as she recalled, maybe six foot three. The featherweight tee clinging to his broad shoulders and sculpted chest and to his hard, tight torso. Beneath the short sleeves, his biceps bulged. His hips were small, but what was encased below was not. Fabric bulged and rippled, Allie swallowed.
    He kept his gaze on her. “Are ye hungry?”
    Allie shook her head.
    His gaze glittering, never looking away, he said to the housekeeper. “Ye may retire for the night.”
    His hot gaze moved over her dress and her legs, lingering on her brightly painted pink toes and the pair of retro platforms she had bought. The shoes added five inches to her diminutive height. Then it lifted. “Hallo a Ailios,” he murmured.
    No tone could be more arousing. She felt her heart trying to push its way out of her chest. She felt heat and liquid slipping down her bare thighs. “Hi….Royce.”
    He strode forward, into the brighter light of the great room,
    She now realized he had the same buzz cut as in the photo. Some confusion began. “I…charged a few things… I hope you don't mind.”
    He smiled seductively. “I hope ye charged that dress.”
    She nodded. “You cut your hair.”
    His eyes flickered.
    But now, she looked from the marine-style cut to his eyes—and the lines emanating from them. She tensed. He was the same man, who had helped her fight off a demonic attack last night, but he looked older—or had she imagined him looking younger in the dark of the night? And he was modern after all. “I don't understand,” she whispered. “Last night, I thought you were a medieval man.”
    He paused before her. “It dinna matter, I’m the lord o' Carrick, Allies. And tonight, yer mine.”
    It was hard to think after such a confident statement, not when he stood an inch from her, not when she knew she could shift her body oh so slightly and be in his arms. But be was not exactly, responding to her question.
    She searched his gaze and he stared back, with a promise that told her she was going to heaven