Page 44 of Dark Victory

“It would be stupid to go up against the gods—even if you’re related to them.”

He simply smiled at her and she knew he was doing just that.

This was not her affair, she reminded herself. If he wanted to aggravate and anger the Ancients, he would eventually pay. Suddenly she wondered if he’d paid the price of such arrogance at An Tùir-Tara. “Why won’t you take your vows? You were born to defend the world from evil, weren’t you?”

“My duty is to Blayde.”

What did that mean, really? “You can serve your people and take care of your lands while serving the gods, can’t you?”

“I fight evil every day,” he said flatly. “But my word is sacred. If I took vows, those vows would have to come first—always. I canna turn my back on Blayde.”

She could not figure him out. He’d been so heroic a moment ago, but now, his mind-set was incredibly narrow and medieval. Did it have something to do with having lost his entire family in the massacre? That might make him determined to cling to all that was left—Blayde. Maybe he wasn’t even destined for the Brotherhood. For all she knew, guys with überpower were running around the world in every century—guys like Sam’s boss, Nick. Maybe that kind of power was a genetic glitch. But then, why would the gods be angry with him, enough so to interfere with him? The old gods never bothered with mankind anymore. Or, they didn’t bother with humanity in the twenty-first century. It was probably really different in 1298.

“Where can I find wood? I dinna wish to break yer fine furnishings to cover the embrasures.”

She stood up. “No, we are not hacking up the furniture. We’ll use garbage bags…plastic.” She walked across the room, suddenly thinking about his age. He’d been fourteen years old in 1201, and in his time, it was ninety-seven years later. He looked a few years younger than she did—like a young man of twenty-five—but he was over a hundred. He’d lived an entire lifetime. He was a very experienced and worldly man for his time. He’d been in hundreds of battles. He’d slept with hundreds of women—at least.

She shouldn’t care, not about anything other than the fact that he could have taken his vows since coming into manhood, and he’d refused to do so for decades. His mind was obviously made up.

It was a waste.

“Why do ye care about those vows? Why do ye care how old I am or what women I keep?”

She took a box of garbage bags out from under the sink. “Rose women have been helping the Innocent survive evil for generations. It’s our Destiny. We’ve met a few Masters and we’ve thanked the gods they exist. You’d probably make a great one.”

He made a disparaging sound. “Ye’re worried about how many women I’ve had.”

Tabby knew she turned red. “I hate this one-sided invasion of privacy!”

His regard moved over her face and then returned to her eyes. “Ye worry so much. But then, all women do.”

She could happily add chauvinistic jerk to his list of character traits. She began pulling plastic bags from the box, wanting something to do. “Being as you’re so into my mind, I hope you’ve been listening closely to all my thoughts.”

“I dinna need to look up chauvinistic jerk, Tabitha. I can feel what ye mean.”

She slammed the garbage bags down on the counter between them. “Good. Meanwhile, a ghost just tried to get in here—an evil, hateful ghost. We have a lot to worry about. So if you are too proud to worry, have no fear, I’ll do enough worrying for us both.”

He suddenly tilted up her chin with one of his strong, magic fingers. “Ye’re brave, even with yer fear.”

She felt herself nod. Of course she was afraid.

“I’ll worry,” he said.

She went still, stunned. It would be so nice to let him worry for her. It would be so nice to let him shoulder this. Of course, she’d do no such thing. She was a liberated, strong and independent woman, and sooner or later, she’d be on her own again. In fact, that evil thing might still be hanging around after he’d gone back to his time.

“I will worry, Tabitha, an’ plot, an’ ye can rest with ease.”

She slowly pulled back, so he wasn’t touching her face. “Why would you do that?”

He half smiled. “In my time, men war an’ worry. Women bake bread and bear babes.”

His chauvinism was a vast relief. “Got it.” She didn’t want him acting concerned or caring toward her.

“Tabitha? I willna go back while the ghost an’ the boys hunt ye.”

She’d almost forgotten his theory about the incident at school that morning. Tabby wet her lips. “Macleod, I recognized the evil. It came from An Tùir-Tara.”

SAM RANG THE BUZZER on Kristin’s apartment door at almost a quarter past eleven at night. Kristin used the peephole before opening the door, her eyes filled with surprise.