Dark Embrace (16 page)

He did not know what this could mean. She had died in Moray's arms, from his own power. He shrugged, forcing indifference. “'Twas only a dream.”

“I felt the last moment of my life—I knew it was over. I felt my life
leave,
” she stressed, as pale as his son's ghost. “I even saw the holies—I went to their light.”

He met her gaze and saw so much emotion shimmering there. He saw fear and helplessness, which enraged him, and he saw courage and determination, which he admired. But her strained gaze also beckoned him.

He understood the plea and lurked anyway. She wanted him to slip into her bed and make love to her. Of course, she thought about making love to him all the time. He didn't have to lurk to know it. Her eyes gave her away. It was often annoying, sometimes infuriating and always provocative. His body seemed to have a mind and will of its own, for it always responded to her. Now she stared and it only furthered the tension coursing between them.

He swiftly poured her some wine and handed the glass to her. She smiled wanly at him, and he was suddenly sorry that he hadn't taken her to bed previously. Now there would never be that chance.

“I really need Tabby and Sam. Claire said she'd contacted Allie. Maybe she'll show up soon.”

He understood why she was so upset, and damn it, he wanted to distract her. “Lady Allie can persuade Royce to come to ye, if anyone can. Brianna…forget about the dream.”

“I can't.” Then she added, “At least I lived to wake up.”

“Drink yer wine. It will comfort you,” he said. “A dream isna reality.”

She gave him a look. “Yes, it is. I'm a Rose, Aidan. I come from a long line of powerful women and we know all about the other worlds.”

He crossed his arms. He had wondered about her empathy for him. “Why do ye have more empathy fer me than others?”

“I don't know, exactly, but it's helped me understand you—and made me even more determined to help you.”

“I dinna care fer ye to feel so much of me,” he said. “I have to guard myself all the time to block ye.”

She slid from the bed, and his eyes widened at the sight of her legs and pink underwear. “You invade my privacy whenever you feel like it. I guess now you know what it feels like.”

He stared at her pale, lush thighs and the pink bikini. His pulse was roaring impossibly. Then he raised his eyes. “Ye need to get dressed.”

She didn't move. “I felt your desire a moment ago, too, before you shielded it. It was different. It wasn't about power, not at all. It was the same desire you had in our dream.”

He did not like her husky tone and sidelong look. “A Highlander needs sex like his daily bread, while a deamhan needs power. I am a Highlander
and
a deamhan,” he said harshly. “I have sex an' take power every single day.”

“Demons destroy. You haven't destroyed me. You don't even want to use me. You want good, old-fashioned sex, so I guess that makes you more of a Highlander than half demon.”

“I liked ye better,” he said softly, “when ye feared me. 'Tis late. Go back to sleep.”

She trembled. “I don't think so.”

Now she would refuse him?

“I'll sleep when you stop staring at my legs.”

He realized he was looking at her pink undergarment again, and what he could see behind the material. He flushed. She was throbbing gently. If he did what he really wished to do, there would be nothing gentle in her body. “Ye want me to stare or ye wouldn't stand naked in the freezin' cold.”

“I'm haven't noticed the cold, and I'm not naked.”

He went still. A reply escaped him now.

“And you can block whatever you choose, but what you're feeling is really obvious.” She glanced at the hem of his leine, which remained tented. She added, her face flushed, “I don't know whether I chose to dream of him or whether he decided to inflict himself on me in my dream, but as I said, I'm a Rose, and I know dreams are another reality.” She stared into his eyes, her gaze intense—beseeching, even. “I have never been so afraid, not in my entire life, and I have seen my share of evil. Even though I have woken up alive, I can't go back to sleep. What if he comes back to kill me?”

He was an instant from putting his arm around her and giving her what they both wanted. “Ye need clothes,” he repeated. “An' I will keep ye safe, as I promised ye I would do.”

She looked right into his eyes. “At first I thought I was mistaken,” she said huskily. “I thought you were oversexed, and the desire was because I'm female and anything in a skirt would do.”

He was not going to admit anything. He was having trouble speaking, in any case. “Get dressed. Now.”

She moved, but not to get dressed. Instead, she dared to touch his cheek. “I think you want me, a lot. And even better, I think you care, at least a little. I think we're becoming friends. And I think that's why you want me. I think you need to make love to me.” Her eyes, trained upon his, were as wide as a doe's.

He was aghast.

He picked her jeans up from the foot of the bed and threw them at her chest, where she hugged them. “We will never be friends and we will never be lovers, Brianna,” he warned.

“Why not?”

“Because Moray has come back, and not just in dreams,” he said harshly. “He was the giant I met on the battlefield.”

 

D
EAMHANAIN DID NOT DESIRE
, they lusted. They did not protect, they destroyed.

Aidan paced outside his tent, aware that Brianna was inside, tense with fear and wide awake. Now she needed his protection, from his demonic father. If he wasn't careful, he would slip into Brianna's bed to comfort her, enjoy her every caress and cry and, before he knew it, she would be
healing
him. He would accept MacNeil's offer and become allies with the Brotherhood, and after giving up his vengeance he would be walking with the gods again.

He shook with rage, looking up at a bright, full moon. “I'll never walk in yer light again. Bastards,” he hissed.

But Moray was more powerful than ever, and he had to be destroyed, soon. MacNeil did not know how he could be vanquished. If anyone could defeat Moray, it was a mighty god.

But no god would show him compassion, not after all he had done. And he would not beg them for their aid, either, just as he wouldn't beg MacNeil.

But the gods were selfish and greedy, like their children, the Highlanders. Gods liked power and wealth. He could bribe them. And why not? He needed the power and he would enjoy the blackmail.

“Ye hate me as I hate ye,” he said harshly, staring at the silent night. “Come face me now an' admit it, so we can begin our bargain.”

The night remained blue-black, cool and silent. Only the wolves moved, panting as they lay a short distance from him.

“Let me defeat Moray,” Aidan said, thinking of Brianna, “an' I will gladly give ye my life.”

The night changed. Stars winked at him; the moon smiled. The wind even sighed.

The wolves sat up.

These were hardly answers. “She has seen the future.” Green eyes came to his mind, at once frightened and determined. “I am to hang soon. No rope can hold me, but give me the power to defeat Moray an' I will accept my fate.”

A gust of wind lifted the dead leaves at his feet.

“Cowards,” he hissed. “Show yerself an' let us seal our bargain!”

The wind roared, whipping his leine. The wolves growled, hackles raised, and then, abruptly, the autumn night was still and vacant.

That was an answer if he had ever heard one.

 

A
IDAN LAY UNSLEEPING
on the bearskin beside her bed, and Brianna was acutely aware of him.

Dying in that nightmare had been terrifying, but when she'd awoken, she'd been in Aidan's powerful embrace. Her fear had vanished instantly. There had been only him and her and the magical pull between them.

Brie smiled grimly to herself, aware that it might be some time before she ever found herself in his arms again.

He wasn't frightening anymore. He had rescued her—twice, if she included his rescuing her from Moray in her nightmare. His bark was really loud and sometimes scary, but he hadn't bitten, not even once. She was coming to believe that a friendship was forming between them.

She had been so terrified for him earlier. The extent of his wounds had convinced her that he was as mortal as she was, but, thank the gods, that he had been healed.

He was no longer such an enigma. His wounds ran soul-deep, and she understood why he had forsaken his gods. He was furious about his son's murder, and his answer to Ian's fate was to turn his back on the Innocent, as if to say, to hell with everyone. That did not make him evil, or even close to evil, no matter what he claimed.

He lay on his back, eyes wide-open, staring up at the tent ceiling. He had stayed with her because she was afraid. He had chosen to comfort her, although not in the way she truly wished. He could be in the women's camp, carousing or worse, but he was not. He was with her to protect her. And it wasn't just because she was his link to Ian's ghost. Something had begun for them, and in spite of the evil facing them, she was thrilled.

She glanced down at him, and he pretended not to see. Two lanterns remained lit—she had asked for the second light—and his beautiful face was illuminated. He had his hands beneath his head, his biceps bulging. One day she was going to be brave enough to entice him to bed.

He thought he was doomed if they made love. How clearly she recalled that now. She couldn't quite figure out why. After all, he had so many lovers.

“Can ye be quiet?”

She hid a smile. “Stop listening to my thoughts.”

“Stop thinking so loudly.” He turned over, away from her, grunting.

She looked at his back and wished she had the courage to slip onto the fur beside him and snuggle up with him. Of course, cuddling wouldn't last long because her pulse was high and racing, and every fiber of her body throbbed and ached. God, she would settle for touching him all over, and kissing him everywhere….

He turned onto his back and glared at her. “Are ye tryin' to seduce me or infuriate me?”

“I am not going back to sleep.”

Their gazes held, and his eventually softened. He knew that she was afraid to go back to sleep. Moray had terrified her as no demon ever had. Moray wanted far more than her death or Aidan's. She had been acutely aware of his sadism when he'd appeared in her sleep. He had delighted in the confrontation.

She sat up. Thinking about Moray made her feel violently ill and really afraid.

Did Aidan have enough power to triumph over his father? Moray had been vanquished once, years ago. How the hell had he come back?

Aidan threw off his covers, standing. “The sun is risin' anyway,” he said grimly.

She was pleased to notice he remained as hot and bothered as she was. She was still somewhat amazed that he wanted her, when he had his choice of beautiful women. She had meant her earlier words. He needed lovemaking and love, not sex. She had no doubt, not after all that had happened since her arrival in the past.

Their eyes met.

“Dinna plot to destroy him, Brianna. Ye have no power, and ye'll be the one destroyed,” he said.

She sat up. Maybe his constant invasion of her thoughts wasn't that bad. “What will happen next? You won't sleep and I'm afraid to sleep, because your father has returned and he said that the two of you will meet today.”

A sick chill swept through her when he didn't answer. She added, “You told me he possessed that giant completely, imbuing it with his will, his words, his voice. He thoroughly disguised his evil, so you didn't even know it was him at first. You could walk out of the tent and speak to Will, only to realize Will is now Moray.”

“I dinna have the Sight. Mayhap ye should look into the future, to see what my father will do next.” He gave her a dark look, buckling his sword belt and throwing his plaid on.

Brie was still snug under the covers and fur. “I wish I could see at will, but I can't.”

He made a harsh sound. “Ye sound like MacNeil.”

“Who is MacNeil?”

“A Master who gives too many orders, follows the gods without question and can see—when the gods allow it.” His movements had become angry.

His anger brushed and scraped her skin now. “You sound as if he's your enemy.”

“Once we were friends. When Ian died, he became my rival.”

Brie slid from the bed, shivering as she left its warmth.

He looked at her bare legs.

She hopped into her jeans. “You blame him for Ian's murder, too? Do you blame everyone, or just all your friends, or all the Masters?” She was well aware of her harsh tone.