Brenda Joyce - Dark Rival

Praise for the novels of

“Steeped in action and sensuality, populated by sexy warriors and strong women, graced with lush details and a captivating story…superlative.”

—Publishers Weekly on Dark Seduction (starred review)

“[A] classic Pygmalion tale with an extra soupçon of eroticism.”

—Booklist on A Lady at Last

“Romance veteran Joyce brings her keen sense of humor and storytelling prowess to bear on her witty, fully formed characters.”

—Publishers Weekly on A Lady at Last

“Joyce’s characters carry considerable emotional weight, which keeps this hefty entry absorbing, and her fast-paced story keeps the pages turning.”

—Publishers Weekly on The Stolen Bride

“There are no limits to the passion and power of a Brenda Joyce novel. With her full-blooded characters, her page-turning prose and her remarkable creativity, Brenda Joyce is a force of nature. Her books are so intensely satisfying, you never want them to end.”

—New York Times bestselling author Lisa Kleypas

“[The Masquerade] dances on slippered feet, belying its heft with spellbinding dips, spins and twists. Jane Austen aficionados will delve happily into heroine Elizabeth ‘Lizzie’ Fitzgerald’s family…Joyce’s tale of the dangers and delights of passion fulfilled will enchant those who like their reads long and rich.” —Publishers Weekly

“Joyce brilliantly delivers an intensely emotional and engrossing romance where love overcomes deceit, scandal and pride…An intelligent love story with smart, appealing and strong characters. Readers will savor this latest from a grand mistress of the genre.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Masquerade

“A powerhouse of emotion and sensuality, The Prize weaves a tapestry vibrantly colored with detail and balanced with strands of consuming passion and hatred. Joyce writes lush stories with larger-than-life characters and a depth of sensuality and emotion that touches chords within the reader and keeps them coming back for more.” —RT Book Reviews

“Joyce’s latest…romance is truly a pleasure to read, given its involving plot, intriguing characters, and the magic that occurs as the reader becomes immersed in another time and place.”

—Booklist on Deadly Kisses

“Another entertaining blend of danger and desire.”

—Booklist on Deadly Illusions

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Also by Brenda Joyce

The Masters of Time ®

DARK SEDUCTION

The de Warenne Dynasty

THE PERFECT BRIDE

A LADY AT LAST

THE STOLEN BRIDE

THE MASQUERADE

THE PRIZE

The Deadly Series

DEADLY KISSES

DEADLY ILLUSIONS

A DANGEROUS LOVE

Long ago, somewhere in the Kingdom of the Picts

TODAY HE WOULD DIE. He did not care, even though he was but three and twenty. For he would not die alone.

He stood on the ridge amidst oak and pine, panting like a hunting hound, sweat pouring down his body. He had been hunting Kael for two endless weeks, ignoring all advice, all counsel and every warning. Now Kael was within the fortress on the other side of the glen, atop the adjacent ridge. He did not have to see him to know. He felt his black power.

But he could not sense Brigdhe, his bride.

Pushing tendrils of gold hair from his face, he started down the ridge, his strides long, determined. His linen tunic stuck to his young, hard body, soaking wet, clinging there. His longsword bumped his thigh with every step. He left the security of the tree line, and saw men gathering on the wooden watchtowers, which were spaced evenly about the palisades. A horn blew. He smiled. Let them shout a warning!

He reached the barred doors of the fortified manor and did not hesitate, although he was new to his powers. He had been summoned to Iona six months ago by his father’s friend, MacNeil. He hadn’t understood then what a summons by an abbot to a monastery had to do with him. But he had quickly learned that he hadn’t been summoned by a true abbot, and that there was far more than a monastery on the island.

He’d been aware for most of his life that he was stronger, more virile and more sexual than other men. His intellect was sharper, his sense of danger far more acute. And physically, he was at least a head taller than his friends.

When he made his vows to old gods he hadn’t paid attention to until the choosing, swearing to protect Innocence through all time, suddenly his powers were released. He remained unsure of just how strong he was, but nothing would stop him now. He reached for the bolted doors, each one as tall as two men and as wide as a warhorse. He ripped them off their iron hinges.

Above him, on the towers, the men shouted in alarm.

Arrows rained down on him. One pierced his skin and stung. Another went deeper, embedding itself in his flesh. He ripped it out, feeling no pain.

He collected his mind and instinctively put his power around him like a shield, never breaking stride, heading for the largest of the buildings in the fort. The arrows fell uselessly around him now.

A dozen giants rushed him, carrying lances and leather shields. They were human, but evil possessed them.

He kept walking, drawing his sword. Metal hissed.

The giants rushed him, throwing their spears all at once.

He found more power and thrust it boldly at his assailants; the giants fell as if pushed by huge winds, their spears falling backward, past them.

He lunged up the steps and into the darkened hall.

Kael faced him.

But he saw only Brigdhe, lying naked on the rug before the fire, her long red-gold hair streaming about her slender body, her hands bound. He faltered.

She turned her head listlessly and looked at him. Her eyes widened—and then he saw the accusation on her face.

The blow took him by surprise, sending him flying backward. He landed hard on his back by the door, but did not drop his sword. As Kael’s sword descended, Brigdhe’s accusatory expression remained engraved on his mind, and with it, so much horror arose in his heart. Instead of parrying the blow, his own weapon yielded uselessly and Kael’s blade rent his shoulder, all the way through muscle and bone.

He forgot his bride. He rolled away as Kael blasted him with more energy, the second blow as stunning as the first. He was not used to men fighting this way. Pushed against the wall, he felt Kael’s sword coming, and this time, he struck upward with his blade, blindly, by sheer instinct.

Steel met steel. Metal screeched, rang. He leapt to his feet, bleeding heavily. Kael thrust more power at him.

He was hurled backward into the wall again. As he crashed into the wood as if thrown from a cliff to the glen below, he gathered his wits. He had power now, and surely he could fight this way, too.