Dark Embrace (19 page)

“Don't stop…don't think!” she begged. But she already knew what he was doing.

He wrenched free of her. “Canna ye see that ye'll be Moray's next victim if I bed ye?”

“I'm not sure I care.” In that insane moment, there was only one thing she cared about—the union of their bodies.

“I need power,” he cried. “I need lots o' power. Makin' love will not vanquish my father!”

Brie went still.

So did he, staring at her.

He was right. He needed the power to triumph over Moray.

“My father chose to murder ye today because of the dream we shared.” Aidan said, finally exhaling. “Think, Brianna. Think about his spyin' on us. Think about how ye make me weak an' vulnerable.”

She shuddered. Aidan wouldn't be weak and vulnerable because of her unless he cared. But she did not want to be the one to weaken him. “I guess that means you'll have sex, right? Power and sex, do they always go together?” Her heart thundered now and her cheeks were on fire. But she was uncertain. She wanted him to tell her he'd take power but not during intercourse.

“Does it even matter?” he asked flatly.

She nodded, trembling. “Yes, it matters. It matters to me.”

“I am sorry,” he finally said. “I am sorry yer here, I am sorry my father hunts ye now, an' mostly, I am sorry ye love me.” He started grimly past her, heading for the open tent flap.

She would die if he went to another woman now, after what had just happened, after what seemed to be happening between them. “Take me.”

He faltered, turned.

“I understand and I agree. You need power. Lots of it. Take it from me.”

“Y
E WANT ME TO
USE
YE
?”

Brie trembled. In that moment, she could think of nothing she wanted more than to be in Aidan's arms. She knew he wouldn't hurt her. She knew he wouldn't destroy her. She would go out of her mind with jealousy if he went to someone else, and it was damn clear that he needed power. The tension in the tent had become so thick that it seemed airless now. “You can't go to someone else, not after what's happened today.”

His gaze was hard, his expression disbelieving. “Yer mad.”

He was blocking his emotions, but not doing a great job of it. She felt desire seething from him, a huge, determined pulse trying to reach her. Brie could barely speak. “We both want this, Aidan. Why can't you admit that, as odd as it is, there's this powerful attraction between us, one that began with my empathy through time and you hearing my cries for help across centuries?”

She expected a denial of just about everything she'd said. He denied nothing. “Yer a virgin.”

Brie went still. Confused, she managed, “So what?” When he simply stared, as if torn between disgust and dismay, she added, “I'll bet you've had your share of virgins.”

“Aye,” he snapped.

She almost cringed. She realized she'd hoped for a different answer. “I can't stay this way forever.” She flushed. “And you're my friend. Look at it this way—we need each other, even if for different reasons.” She realized she was bargaining with him to take her to bed. Apparently she had no shame, but she meant every word. It felt as if their journey had come down to this one moment. “It's time,” she added in a soft whisper.

His eyes were hot, smoldering. “I willna use ye,” he said harshly, his temples visibly throbbing. “Ye can save yerself for the man ye love.” He turned to walk out but the moment he realized what he said, his shoulders stiffened and he faltered.

Brie ran after him and barred his way at the tent flap. They both knew who that man was. “Then this shouldn't be a problem,” she whispered breathlessly.

Their gazes locked. “Ye need to save yerself fer yer husband,” he corrected harshly. His cheekbones were pink.

“No one saves themselves for their wedding day—not in my time.” She touched his biceps and he flinched. “You read my mind all the time, so you know how much I want you. You want me, too, even if I haven't figured out why. You need power and Moray is hot on our trail. God only knows when he'll pop up next and what he'll be capable of. In my time, we call that killing two birds with one stone—or friends helping one another.”

He folded his arms, and his biceps and forearms bulged. “I'll be the first to admit I dinna think I have enough power to defeat him. But I willna use ye. My mind is made up. I meant what I said earlier. Find someone else to take as a lover—it willna be me! But I willna leave ye alone tonight, Brianna.”

He was going to protect her at all costs, even the cost of his life, but he was still set against them becoming lovers. “Why are you so afraid to go to bed with me?”

He laughed. “I'm hardly afraid!”

“You think you'll make love to me and that it will heal your poor, starving heart and black, withered-up soul!” she accused.

His fury pushed her back against the tent. “I have never made love to any woman, not in my entire life, not even before my fall! Fer the hundredth time, I chose this way an' I like it.”

“That's crap,” she cried. “You did not choose to have your son murdered before your very eyes and you did not choose to be haunted for sixty-six years. Have you ever considered the kind of life you could have again, if you let go of all your anger and rage? If you dared to heal? If you forgave the gods, who work in mysterious ways? Have you ever considered that you might be a happy man if you let go of your poor, dead son and a nearly impossible quest for vengeance?”

He leaned close, furious with her now. “Ye think if ye spread yer legs fer me, I'll become that happy, good man?”

She knew she flushed. “Not exactly, but you need me. You need my affection, my friendship and my love. And yes, I think our making love could be very healing—for us both.”

“I will never forgive the gods, I will never give up my vengeance, an' I will never be a
happy
man. Ian is dead!” he roared at her. “An' the day I have my vengeance, 'tis the day our friendship dies! I am usin' ye to help me with my son.”

She knew she'd hit a hundred nerves, but his words really hurt. She felt the ugly truth in them. If she communicated with Ian and set him free, she knew Aidan would send her home.

God, she was going to love him forever, she realized, aghast.

“Yer right,” he snarled. “When Ian is at peace, I'll send ye back to yer time.”

“I hate that you're reading my mind!” Was she too involved? Grandma's ring was really hurting her now. She had come back in time to save him from hanging and to redeem him. To do the latter, she would have to heal him, and that meant setting Ian free. What she hadn't come back for was a torrid love affair or a life-altering romance. She hadn't gone back in time to fall irrevocably in love.

It was too damned late.

There had been so many moments when intimacy had blossomed between them, but at times like these, it was clear he would be set against her forever, if it was up to him.

She trembled, aware that her feelings were raw. But her heart was decided. “Then go and do what you have to do, Aidan. Go find a few women and take power, so when Moray returns, you can send him to the fires of hell. I'll be okay,” she said, turning away from him. It was a lie. She just couldn't understand how he could take another woman in his arms after all that had happened to them.

She reminded herself that she was a Rose, with her own destiny. He was clearly a part of it, but not exactly the way she'd like him to be.

She felt him staring at her back. He was inside her mind and he knew he'd just hurt her. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and quiet but strained with tension. “The sooner ye go to Iona, the better, so that when I next confront Moray, I dinna have to guard ye, too. Yer a distraction now.”

Still turned away from him, Brie rubbed her face. She didn't want to be his Achilles' heel, but she couldn't go to Iona and leave him to face such a horrific and determined evil alone.

Brie didn't know what to do. As Claire had said, women in love could not think straight. But she knew she had better get her head on straight now. His life and future were at stake. Grandma was right. Brie was too involved. If she could, she had to get a grip on her heart and stop loving him. Brie knew that might be impossible. And she'd never stop being his friend.

Brie slowly turned; he was still staring.

“I can't go to Iona like a coward and leave you here to face Moray alone.”

“Oh, ye'll go,” he said dangerously.

Brie did not like the sound of that, but she didn't want to fight. It was too hurtful. Suddenly he cocked his head, listening to the night.

Brie wondered what had caught his attention, alarm beginning to rise in her. She prayed he hadn't felt Moray. And then a pack of wolves started howling.

She froze, and looked at Aidan, certain the pack had come for him.

Aidan had stiffened, listening acutely to the pack, and she knew he had become unaware of her. His perfect profile was turned to her now, and his expression had changed. It was harder and fiercer than before. His excitement began to change, too.

The wolves' howls grew in fervor, cresting.

His mouth curved, coldly.

Brie hugged herself, alarmed. “They've come for you, haven't they?”

He gave her a sidelong look. “Aye. They want to hunt tonight.”

Dread began. “You want to hunt,” she accused.

He turned his brilliant blue eyes upon her. He did not speak—he didn't have to. She felt the predatory bloodlust rising up in him, replacing his interest in her—the prelude to a long and savage hunt.

“I'm not leavin' ye,” he said softly. “Even if they want me to lead them.”

The wolves howled long and fervently again.

Brie started to feel sickened by that bestial bloodlust. “Can you control the Wolf?”

He went to the tent flap, lifting it. Even his stride had changed, becoming looser, yet menacing. Outside, the sky had turned purple. An orange moon was rising, oddly streaked—the way it had been her first night at Awe, when Aidan had shifted into the Wolf to grieve. “Sometimes.”

Brie shuddered. The Wolf was vicious and ruthless, more so than Aidan, the man. But animals did not have consciences, and wolves were predators, at the top of the food chain. The Wolf liked to hunt, and it ate its prey.

Aidan remained in his human form, but she felt the beast with them, snarling and hungry, scenting innocent blood.

“I don't like the Wolf,” she said tersely.

He glanced briefly at her. “Ye should fear the Wolf. Everyone does.” He stared back outside at the fiercely streaked orange moon. “I dinna trust him, either.”

Brie sat on the edge of the bed, her stomach upset, pulling her legs up beneath her. Even though the Wolf had destroyed her enemies and spared her, she wouldn't mind never seeing the creature again. “Are you about to shift?”

He glanced at her, his eyes odd now. Still so very blue and so very human, but the stare was somehow inhuman and lingering, direct. “Nay,” he said, low and soft.

Brie flinched, because his tone sounded almost like a growl.

His stare did not waver. “Go to sleep. I'll be outside.”

Brie could see his tension as well as feel it. He yearned to join the pack.

The wolves had quieted. Brie was certain they were close by, waiting for him. And now she realized that his chest fell rapidly and heavily, the panting of a canine. “Don't go,” she whispered.

He didn't answer, slipping from the tent. The moment the flap fell closed behind him, the wolves howled all at once, a huge and savage night cry.

Brie leapt beneath her covers and pulled them up high. She didn't have to strain to feel him now. He wasn't blocking anything from her.

He lusted for the wolves; he lusted for power, blood and death.

She was forgotten.

 

T
HE
R
OYAL
L
IEUTENANT OF THE
N
ORTH
, Robert Frasier, adjusted his clothing carefully. He replaced his codpiece, jerked up his dark hose and tied the drawstring firmly. He tugged down the short skirt of his black velvet surcote, trimmed in gold. His body vibrated with pleasure and power. In another moment or so, he would summon another woman to his bed.

A bottle of fine French wine sat on the table in his tent. He crossed the spacious area, stepping across the dead bodies on the floor—two beautiful women and a beautiful squire. Without a thought for them, he poured a glass. As he sipped, he recalled the events of that afternoon—events that had propelled him to take so many Innocents at once, with most of his army within hearing distance, just outside his tent.

Rage began.

In fury, he tossed the glass aside, receiving no satisfaction as it broke.

Aidan had healed the witch.

Demons did not heal.

He roared in rage and threw the wine bottle at the tent wall. He had known before Aidan was ever birthed that he would have the greatest power of all his sons. A goddess had come to him to taunt him with it.

“This child, your 1,025th son, will be the greatest of your progeny. He will have a power even greater than your own,” Faola had whispered. “We have great plans for him.”

He had been sleeping and he instantly awoke. He had stared at the beautiful warrior goddess, whom he had never before seen. The goddess had been sent to the ancient kings long ago to mother a race of warriors to defend mankind. He had been certain this was a dream—or a jest. But he had taken one look at her burning eyes and realized she spoke the truth.

“Why tell me this?” he had demanded.

“There will be great travail. There will be great tragedy. You will covet his powers. You will be his test. Only one of you can prevail. This is written.”

Faola began to fade before his very eyes. He had demanded that she wait, but she had laughed at him and disappeared.

Satan had approached him many millennia ago, his offer so tempting. Moray had accepted it instantly and their bargain had been sealed. He could not comprehend why Faola would come to him now. But Satan was more devious than any god, and it crossed his mind that Satan could certainly test him, too. Perhaps Satan had engineered this rivalry with his son and the test was really about him, Moray.

Moray had made certain that Lady Margaret, Aidan's mother, was kept in good health until the child was born. He had quickly put spies amongst the Maclaine foster family, although he soon realized his young son would never die a natural death. He was never sickly. He never fell, never sprained a tendon, never suffered a broken bone. From infancy he could move small objects across tabletops and drop flies with a glance. His foster parents were afraid of him, and only Brogan Mor's will insured that Aidan remained with them.