Page 48 of Dark Victory

Her eyes widened. “I can wash that tunic, but you’re right. We don’t know how long you’ll be here, and we’d better get you in clothes that don’t stick out.” She opened a closet door and began jerking clothes from the rack. She was still nervous and distressed. She couldn’t decide what to do next with him or what to really think about him. She was worried about the kind of woman she was becoming.

He did not mind the words savage, violent or ruthless, because every warrior should be those things. He was starting to dislike the word medieval, and he was becoming tired of being called a barbarian.

“When will ye get the clothes?”

She faced him. “Is there a rush?”

She knew what he wanted—and he always got what he wanted. He had told her last night, and she was very clever, so he knew she hadn’t forgotten. “I will go to the museum, Tabitha, to see the display ye keep thinking about. An Tùir-Tara.”

Tabitha paled.

CHAPTER NINE

HE WOULD BE at An Tùir-Tara—in another two-hundred-and-fifty years. Bringing him to the exhibit and showing him a slice of his future was a dangerous idea. It was even more dangerous than the chance of their running into the cops. She didn’t dare do anything that might affect his future.

She had no idea what to do or say next.

She clutched the sheets to her chest, trying to sound composed. “Macleod, it’s a terrible idea to go to the exhibit. Seeing as you keep invading the privacy of my thoughts, you know I think you were there—or rather, that you will be there.” Why was he staring? Had her sheet slipped? “But no one should ever glimpse a part of their future. It might change your Fate.”

“I will go. Ye can show me the way or I’ll find it myself,” he said flatly.

Tabby inhaled. She was butting heads with a medieval brick wall—again. But this time, after last night, she was dismayed. “I won’t let you go alone.” As she spoke, she heard Sam knock on her door. If he intended to go, she wouldn’t be able to stop him. But she could try to keep him safe from the cops—and himself.

He nodded, clearly having expected her answer. “Good. We’ll go together.”

Sam said tersely, “I take it you’re all right—and not alone?”

“We’ll be out in a minute,” Tabby said. She thought her voice sounded hoarse—probably from her screaming. “I’m fine.”

Trying to be nonchalant when she was very modest, even after all they’d done to each other, Tabby put on her velour pants and a T-shirt as quickly as she could. She was pretty certain that Macleod watched. She faced him and said, “Could you not go out of the bedroom dressed like that?”

His lashes lowered. “Can ye kindly bring me my leine?”

Tabby nodded and hurried from the bedroom, closing the door, as if she didn’t want her sister seeing Macleod more naked than not. That, of course, was absurd. Sam was in the kitchen—amazingly, making coffee. Sam never made coffee, not even when it was instant. “I guess I missed the party,” she said, turning. Her face was serious.

“It was an extraordinary night,” Tabby said, rushing into the bathroom where he’d left his tunic. She returned to the bedroom and handed it to him through a crack in the door.

He took it, shrugging it on. “Yer sister doesna want ye with me.”

Tabby barred Sam’s view with her body, wondering if she had lost her mind. “Sam just doesn’t understand what happened, because she knows I don’t sleep with strangers.”

He simply looked at her.

Tabby realized she was barring his way, too. She left the door and turned to face her sister, who was staring at them both. She tried to smile at her but Sam scowled back.

Tabby shivered, approaching, as Macleod strolled out of the bedroom, nodding rather dismissively at Sam. Sam seemed to bristle. Tabby didn’t get it. It was as if they disliked each other, but they didn’t even know one another. It was freezing in the rest of the loft. Last night, Macleod had taped garbage bags across the windows, but they didn’t seem to be helping. Sam began taking mugs down from a high cabinet.

Damn it, Tabby thought. Sam probably thought her a victim of seduction, and that was not the case. “I’ll do that,” Tabby said, joining her in the kitchen and smiling at her.

Sam didn’t smile back and she ignored Macleod. She was probably the only woman in the city who could resist looking at him. “So what happened? I mean, what got in here last night?” Sam still refused to look at Macleod, but she cast a worried look at Tabby now.

Tabby flushed, feeling guilty. Sam had every right to demand what was up, because they were sisters, but clearly she was avoiding the subject. “There was an intruder—an evil force. Macleod helped me banish it. I’m fine,” she said grimly. “I decided to live life, for once.”

“Really? Because you don’t look very happy. You look upset and worried. No, you look scared.”

Tabby felt her smile slip away. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

Sam made a sound. She turned and finally looked at Macleod—scathingly. Tabby saw him tense, as if preparing for battle. She was alarmed as Sam said, “I know who’s gotten into you. You’re frigging head over heels in love.”