Dark Embrace (33 page)

Brie couldn't see the page now, for her vision was blurred with tears. She wiped them and read on:

Nothing had changed, not one damn thing! Brie laid her head on her arms and let grief and fear wash over her. With it, there was frustration and rage. Tabby laid a hand on her back. “I'll try to find a spell to send you back. Do you want to talk about it…about him?”

“I'm exhausted,” Brie muttered, “and thanks to Nick, all talked out.” She stood abruptly. “I need to shower and get out of these clothes.

Tabby had never looked more concerned. “I'll fix a tray. You can eat in bed. I am not leaving you!”

Brie smiled slightly. “Thanks.”

But as she walked to the bathroom, she thought about her vision of Aidan in effigy and the tomb on Loch Awe. She stopped and went back into the loft's living area. “Sam, has anyone ever been to Aidan's tomb?”

Sam hesitated. “I don't know. I think it's simply a well-known fact that the tomb exists.”

“Has anyone seen it? Are there photos?” Brie demanded.

“If there were photos, they'd be in his case file. What are you thinking?”

Just because she had a vision of Aidan in effigy, and it was common knowledge that Aidan of Awe had a tomb, that didn't mean it was
his
tomb. Historians made mistakes all the time. “I want to see it for myself. I'm going to Scotland.”

 

T
WO DAYS LATER
, B
RIE SAT BESIDE
Sam in the front passenger seat of the rental car they'd picked up at Edinburgh International. Loch Awe was a glimmering body of water ahead of them. They'd managed to take a flight over the previous night, had landed in Edinburgh that morning and had spent seven hours driving across the Highlands through spectacular scenery, although it wasn't half as splendid as it had been during medieval times. The signs of modern times had become more dispersed as they left Edinburgh's suburbs behind, urban sprawl giving way to smaller and smaller villages. The towering mountains were stark and bare now. Hundreds of years ago, the forests had been so thick they were impenetrable except by game trails. The landscape was so familiar and so different.

But it didn't matter. Only the truth about Aidan's Fate mattered. Brie gripped the dashboard as they bounced along the rutted dirt road leading to Castle Awe. The sapphire-blue lake with the red stone rising out of its midst was painfully familiar and Brie's heart pounded with hurtful force. She almost expected to see Awe as it had been in 1502, with riders on the bridge and Highlanders in the ward, coming and going. She almost expected to see Aidan, the most magnificent sight of all, striding out of the ward, clad in his leine and plaid and swords.

“Oh my God,” she whispered.

Sam braked on a roadside lookout, not speaking.

The red stone rising from the sparkling water was only that—red stone. Castle Awe was in ruins.

All that was left of the spectacular castle, with its many towers, wards and chambers, was two crumbling curtain walls and two collapsing towers. The bridge leading to the ruins was impassable, reduced to three disconnected stone sections. A new suspension bridge had been erected to the north of it. Three cars were parked by it. Tourists were leaving the ruins, making their way across the suspension bridge to their vehicles.

A pair of swans drifted past the ruins of the bridge where Aidan's mighty army had gathered for the march on Inverness. Brie began crying.

“I'm sorry,” Sam whispered. “It's awful…such beauty and majesty, coming to this end.”

Brie fought her tears and her grief. As if sensing her thoughts, Sam put the little Renault in gear and drove over to the suspension bridge, where she parked. Brie got out of the car, so sick now she thought she might die. With Sam beside her, she started walking slowly toward the ruins.

She didn't know if she could stand the heartbreak.

She missed him so much.

They had only just begun. His tomb could not be ahead.

A husky American man wearing a camera around his neck, dressed in Bermuda shorts and Adidas, was leaving the ruins. He frowned at her. “A waste of time,” he said. “The only thing worth seeing is the tomb. The rest is just a pile of rocks.”

Sam cupped her elbow. Brie didn't speak as she passed the man, because she couldn't. His ignorance infuriated her.

The gatehouse leading to the inner ward, the great hall and the interior of the castle should have been directly ahead, with its pair of majestic flanking towers. Sentries should have been on those towers and on all the curtain walls. Brie paused, still almost expecting the castle to magically reform itself and for Aidan to step out of the gatehouse passageway, his eyes blazing with interest as he saw her.

“The guidebook said the mausoleum is beneath where the original chapel was,” Sam murmured.

Brie wiped her eyes and marched ahead. She was feeling faint—she'd eaten about two bites on the plane and nothing all day. Sam followed as she went into what should have been the inner ward. The great hall should have been to her left; above it, Aidan's bedchamber, where they had so recently made love.

She would give just about anything to be in his arms one more time, she thought. She simply couldn't accept that she would never be with him again. All she had to do was figure out how to get back into the past.

She saw a wood door ahead—a part of the castle wall. Brie hesitated, uncertain if she could really go forward now. But she had to know. Grim, she strode across the rest of the bare ward, the ground rutted with dirt and mud. She began to hear voices of both men and women, all speaking Gaelic, the sounds becoming louder and more vivid. She heard horses whinnying, bridles jangling. Suddenly she smelled game roasting, and she felt the warmth that was always blazing from those massive hearths.

Brie inhaled. If she closed her eyes, would she be in Awe's stronghold when she opened them again? Would Aidan come walking through a hallway or a door with his incredible blue eyes trained upon her? Brie squeezed her eyes tightly closed.

“There's no law that says you have to do this.”

Brie blinked. She was not back in medieval times; she had paused before the heavy, splintered wood door leading down into the tomb. “I have to see if it's really him.”

Sam glanced at her and pushed it open. “Romantics first,” she said softly.

Brie went down centuries-old, worn stone steps, into a small, low-ceilinged stone chamber with two electric lights on the walls. A chill hit her as she saw the stone tomb, set against the far wall. An effigy of a Highlander was carved into the stone atop it.

He lay in repose, hands crossed over his chest, wearing knee-high boots, a leine and a plaid, which was pinned over one shoulder, and a belt with two swords. From this distance, it was identical to the vision she'd had.

Brie stumbled forward, straining to see the effigy's face. She felt so much relief, because although the statue had a strong jaw, a straight nose and wavy hair, it was simply impossible to tell if it was Aidan or another big, striking man.

“Brie,” Sam said harshly, tugging on her sleeve.

Brie glanced at her, not liking her expression, and followed her gaze.

The effigy wore a necklace with a wolf's fang.

 

T
HEY HAD BOOKED A ROOM
in Oban at the Manor House, which was closer than Glasgow. Brie sat in the front parlor waiting for Sam to come down for dinner, trying to keep a grip on her composure. It was impossible.

Aidan had hanged, and that was his tomb, as everyone believed.

She covered her face with her hands. She had to go back in time, just to be with him, even if preventing his execution was hopeless. Maybe everyone was right, and his execution was Fate. Coming to Scotland had been a mistake. It hurt so much.

She dropped her hands, looking at her watch. Sam was showering and changing for dinner, obviously vamping up—she couldn't help herself. Brie didn't care what she herself wore or looked like. She'd stumbled out of the shower, reaching for whatever was in her overnight bag. She was in a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and sandals. She'd managed to change her contacts and brush her teeth. Maybe she should skip dinner, go to bed and cry.

Someone brushed her hand and she looked up, expecting to see Sam.

But no one stood there.

Perturbed, Brie stood. She could have sworn she'd been touched.

And then the air shimmered and shifted on the threshold of the parlor. Suddenly she thought she saw Ian, but it was barely a glimpse. Then the little boy was gone.

“Ian!” Brie gasped. “Come back!”

The reception desk was across the hall, and the pretty clerk there glanced her way.

Brie ran to the hall but Ian wasn't there. Had Ian's ghost found her in modern-day Oban? If so, why couldn't she still see him? What did his failure to materialize now mean? She'd been able to see him so clearly in the past, and even that day in the present when she'd been sedated on Five.

If Ian was reaching out to her, but he could not manage now, Brie was afraid it meant something terrible.

Brie stood in the corridor, trembling. She walked to the front door and glanced out the window, but the little ghost was not standing on the street.

Was she so upset and desperate that she had imagined seeing Ian?

“Please come back,” she whispered. He had led her to Aidan once. Maybe he would do so again.

But it was a perfectly quiet afternoon, the air warm and still, and Brie did not feel him, or anything, present.

Breathing hard, Brie stepped outside. It was late afternoon in Scotland and about 10 a.m. New York time. Pedestrians were hurrying to-and-fro, leaving work, on their way home or to a pub. The street was bumper-to-bumper traffic, as well. Directly across the street was a small bookstore displaying the sign, Highland History Our Specialty.

She wasn't sure if she'd seen Ian or not, but if she had, she felt certain he was intent on sending her to the store. Or maybe that was her imagination, too. It didn't matter. Sam was taking her time, and if Highland History was the store's specialty, Brie would buy some books and ship them home. Maybe one day she'd find a historian who disputed the fact of Aidan's death.

Brie jaywalked carefully through the rush-hour traffic. Not a single Scot cursed her or honked their horn; in fact, everyone was excessively polite and waved her on. Brie walked into the bookstore, door chimes ringing. A pleasant woman behind the register smiled at her. “We close in ten minutes, dearie. Can I help you?”

“I just got into town,” she said, “and I saw the sign in your window. I'm a history buff.”

“You're American,” the woman said in delight. “Welcome to the Highlands. I am Mrs. McKay. You must be touring our grand Highland castles. Have you been to Dunstaffnage yet?”

“We were at Loch Awe today.”

“Kilchurn is splendid, is it not?”

“We were at Castle Awe,” Brie said. “I'm doing research into one of your…” She paused, incapable of continuing. “We were at the tomb there.”

“You must have seen the Wolf's tomb, then. I get shivers whenever I go there. What a grand Highlander, eh?”

Brie managed a grim smile.

“You'll want this, then, I think. It's out of print and the last copy we have.” The woman went to a crowded bookcase and pulled out a thin pamphlet. “It was written in 1952 by an Oxford scholar.” She handed the pamphlet to Brie.

Brie took one look at the title and felt faint.
“The Legacy of Castle Awe, the Wolf and the earls of Argyll.”
She was in disbelief. “I'll buy it,” she gasped.

The woman smiled, pleased. “He's very difficult to reach, but you should try to interview the Baron of Awe himself. No one knows the history of Castle Awe better than his lordship.”