Page 88 of Dark Victory

That feeling, which was half satiation and half anticipation, receded. Dismay rose up. She searched his gaze and thought it softened almost imperceptibly. She would never accept his treatment of Coinneach or any other such prisoner, but she did not want to resume warring with him, either. So much had happened in such a short time, it felt as if they had been together for ages, not days. And most importantly, he had been so concerned when he had found her in the forest—as if he did care about her as a woman, not a sex object.

Her heart opened. Comprehension came slowly. She was starting to really care about him, too. She couldn’t help but admire his courage, his determination, his power. Sure, he was medieval in a lot of ways. But that was to be expected, and his heroism made up for it. And they were more than lovers now. They were partners in this life-and-death struggle against evil. She needed him and he needed her, as MacNeil had said. Their Fates were so clearly intertwined.

And they would both be at An Tùir-Tara.

It was a frightening thought. Tabby hugged her knees to her chest, aware of his watchful stare. Going through all that they had, even the conflict over Coinneach, had increased the intimacy in their relationship. Their relationship felt as if it was growing in leaps and bounds. She wasn’t afraid of him anymore, either. He wasn’t as daunting and intimidating as he’d first seemed. They might even be on the path to becoming friends, because friends looked out for one another; friends cared about one another.

It felt huge, eternal and irrevocable.

But of course it did. Otherwise she wouldn’t have seen and felt him across centuries, as he’d seen and heard her. And she wondered if he was her soul mate.

It would explain everything. But how could that be possible when they were still worlds apart? When Kristin and the evil from An Tùir-Tara were vanquished, when Coinneach was freed, she would be going home—wouldn’t she?

Suddenly Tabby did not want to think about the future. It was distressing.

“Being with you feels so right,” Tabby said softly. “I know you think so, too.”

“Ye need to bend to me,” he said. “I must do my duty, Tabitha. Ye need to trust that my decision is right.”

He was referring to Coinneach, she thought, but the pang she had wasn’t half as huge as it had once been. There was no question in her mind that his decision was wrong. Now, she thought that there might be hope for him to change his mind and see the light. “I trust you. And I know you are doing what you think is right. But I am not going to approve. And by the way, your ancestors—the gods—won’t ever approve, either.”

He flinched and stood, his hard body rippling.

The gods were such a sore subject with him, she thought.

His face tightened. “Then ye’ll disobey me, even now?” He was disbelieving.

Going against him, behind his back, suddenly seemed unbearable. She knew she had no choice but she didn’t want to think about it. She spoke slowly, carefully. “Doesn’t your feud with Coinneach seem paltry after what happened today with Kristin? Shouldn’t the war on evil—all evil—take precedence over all mortal affairs?”

“The murder of my family wasna paltry. I willna allow ye to weaken me, Tabitha.”

She inhaled. “I’m sorry. That isn’t my intention. And I believe that if you ever took your vows, you’d become stronger than ever.” She slipped from the bed.

She’d remained impossibly modest until that precise moment, and his eyes widened. Tabby moved to stand between his legs, taking both of his hands. His eyes darkened instantly. “Your revenge diminishes you, but let’s not beat a dead horse.”

He tugged his hands from hers and cupped her breasts. “Will ye use yer body now to sway me?”

It crossed her mind that if she could, she would. “I know you can read my mind, so you know I am starting to care for you. I want what is best for you, Macleod, not for me.” He started. “We remain at an impasse.” She touched his face tenderly. “But at least we are discussing it. That is a step in the right direction. It is civil.”

“And bein’ civil pleases ye, aye?” he asked softly, clasping her waist and pulling her forward, his face pillowed against her breasts.

She inhaled. “It pleases me almost as much as you do.”

He lifted his face and smiled at her, his eyes hot.

And that was when she saw the woman standing in the fire.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE WOMAN SEEMED to be standing inside the hearth, on the other side of the fire. Tabby could see her clearly, even if she could see through her. She was dark-haired, and clad in medieval finery. Her hatred and evil filled the room.

Tabby cried out, jerking upright.

Her protective spell had been breached.

The fire became a wall, roaring between them. She was horrified, outraged, consumed with dread, with fury. The emotions made her reel, all conflicting. She had to triumph over her.

The woman smiled and suddenly Macleod was standing on the other side of the fire behind the woman, his eyes wide, and it was déjà vu. In that moment, Tabby knew how much she loved him—and she was terrified.