Dark Embrace (8 page)

“Yer at my home, Castle Awe. I'll have ye sent back to yer time when yer stronger,” he said brusquely.

His gaze was so hard and unwavering, she flushed. Maybe it was better that she couldn't see his expression, because even blurred, his regard was unnerving. She felt almost as if she'd been trapped in a cage with a wild animal and that she didn't dare move, for fear of provoking him.

But with the two of them alone in the hall, it was impossible not to recall being in his arms. Even shielded, his power was so male and sexual that her pulse raced. She would always find him terribly, unbearably attractive, she thought.

What she hadn't felt earlier, though, was his magnetic pull. A force pulsed between them, urging her toward him. She probably hadn't noticed it before because of her empathy. His turbulent emotions had been an overwhelming distraction, but his magnetism was shockingly strong now.

She would ignore his pull. “Are you okay?” she asked carefully. She couldn't discern any bandages beneath the tunic.

His gaze narrowed. “Ye ask after my welfare?”

She wet her lips. “You're the one who got shot.” Because of her, she thought.

His anger roiled, pushing at her. “I'm almost healed.” He was harsh.

So he had an extraordinary recuperative power, she thought. That was not demonic, either. Demons didn't heal, not even themselves—they destroyed.

“A maid will show ye to yer chamber. Ye can stay there.” He whirled, striding down the corridor.

She had no intention of remaining in the hall, alone in the dark of the night—especially with her impaired vision. He had started down a dark hole that was obviously a spiral staircase. “Wait, please,” she cried, rushing after him.

He began to vanish down the spiraling steps, as if he hadn't heard her. He was obviously ignoring her.

Brie rushed forward, pain erupting from her ribs. Her depth perception gone, she tripped and went flying down the stairs.

She landed hard. After the agony of their journey through time and her bruised or fractured ribs, it hurt impossibly and she cried out, tears finally filling her eyes. For one moment, as his hands instantly closed on her arms, she felt dizzy and faint. And then she felt only his large hands and the strength coming from them.

His grasp was
reassuring,
she managed to think. But that was impossible, because of what he had become.

“Will ye nay watch where ye go?” he demanded with heat. “Do ye have two left feet?”

Her ribs throbbed and she looked up into his vivid blue eyes. His mouth was inches from hers. She was almost in his arms, so close she could see him perfectly. What was she going to do with her attraction to him?

His eyes changed, smoldering.

“I can hardly see at all. I need my eyeglasses,” she managed. Had he just looked at her mouth?

“Yer hurt,” he said flatly, his gaze on hers. “The possessed boys hurt ye.”

She nodded, biting her lip, wanting, absurdly, to apologize for being a klutz. Even more absurdly, she wanted to move closer to him. He simply didn't feel that dangerous now. She felt like putting his hand on her throbbing ribs, as if his touch would soothe them. And she felt like touching his perfect face. The urge to reach out to him was so strong, she began to lift her hand.

He became very still, his face hardening, his eyes brilliant now. Abruptly, he put his arm around her and hefted her to her feet, then pushed her away, against the wall.

His anger spewed, filling her. She began to feel sick, his emotions too much to bear. “Stop,” she begged. “What is wrong?”

“Ye stay far from me,” he warned. “I dinna wish to have ye here. I dinna wish fer ye to have any cares fer me an' I dinna wish to converse! Do ye ken?”

She gasped. “You brought me here! I wasn't given a say in the matter.”

His mouth curled unpleasantly. “Yer friend Nick needed a reminder. He canna triumph over me.”

Their gazes were locked, his blue eyes ablaze. “Is that why I'm here?” Brie didn't believe it.

He stared, his eyes harder now. “Ye summoned me against my will. I dinna care fer any summons, ever. And I dinna like yer man, Nick.”

Brie stared back, perturbed. “I do not have the power to summon anyone. You heard me, and you rescued me,” she said slowly. “For all that anger, you did the right thing. Oh…and Nick is not my man. He's my boss.”

“I dinna care,” he snarled. His sudden anger shifted, a mask settling over his features. “Claire's below. She'll heal yer ribs.” He turned to go.

He knew she was hurt, and somehow, he knew exactly where. “Aidan, wait.”

He faced her. “Will ye ever cease yer talk?”

She took a breath. “You saved me from the subs. I haven't said thank you. Thank you, Aidan,” she added firmly, and she smiled hesitantly at him.

His eyes widened. Angered all over again, he whirled and started down the stairs.

He was a powder keg, she thought, and it took only a word or a look to set him off. She started after him, but didn't dare rush. There was more light on the landing below, and she saw his shape far ahead, vanishing into another room. A moment later she paused on the threshold of the great hall.

Although she couldn't make out details, it was a huge, high-ceilinged room. One wall contained a massive fireplace, where a large fire blazed. Two chairs were before it, and a long table was in the hall's center, with benches on either side. The room was large, yet the furnishings were so spare.

Aidan sat at the head of the trestle table and was pulling a trencher forward. Brie smelled roasted game and ale.

She hesitated. He wasn't alone.

A small boy of nine or ten stood beside him. He was dressed like Aidan, in a knee-length tunic and a plaid, and he had dark hair and blue eyes. Brie almost thought she knew him, but that was impossible.

The boy looked at him pleadingly, but Aidan only drank from a heavy cup. Brie sensed the child was really distressed.

Brie tensed. It was one thing to be rude to her; it was another to ignore an unhappy child.

Brie was so upset it took her a moment to speak. Maybe she could help the child, if Aidan would not. “Hello,” she said, smiling brightly even though it was forced. “Do you speak English? Can I help you?” she asked, kneeling so they were eye to eye.

Aidan choked on his wine. His brilliant gaze had widened with shock.

Brie ignored him. The boy was now facing her. He was so familiar, yet she knew she couldn't have met him. “I'm Brie,” she said softly. “What's your name?”

The child seemed bewildered.

Brie's concern escalated. “Are you okay? Where's your mother?” she asked, realizing he might not speak English.

Aidan shot to his feet with a roar. “What ploy is this?”

Brie leapt back. So much pain went through her that she was blinded by it. The pain came from him, not her ribs.

Aidan seized her arm, shouting at her. “Who do ye speak with?”

Brie fought the pain flooding her. That terrible knife was in her heart again, and with it there was so much despair. Her vision cleared, and she looked at the boy. He started speaking to her. She did not hear a word.

Her heart slammed as a vague memory tried to surface.

Aidan seized her shoulders now, hurting her. “Who do ye see?” he roared at her.

Had she seen this boy on Five?
Brie looked at the frightened, expectant child, then at Aidan. “Oh my God. You don't see him?”

Aidan turned white. “Nay, I see no one!”

B
RIE GASPED
. S
HE COULD SEE THIS CHILD
as clear as day, as if she had perfect vision. But the boy was invisible to Aidan. She was facing a child's lost soul. “It's a little boy,” she whispered, her gaze locked with Aidan's.

Aidan's pain struck her so hard that it sent her to her knees.

“Where is he?” he cried in anguish. “Why do
ye
see him? Do ye see him still? I canna see him!”

On her knees, Brie held her chest, fighting the pain, fighting to breathe. She looked up at Aidan, past the waiting ghost, but couldn't speak. No one could live with such torment, she thought. She felt tears start to trickle down her face. “He's…here…beside you!”

Aidan moaned. Then, pulling her to her feet, he demanded, “What does he want?”

“I don't know…what he wants,” she gasped, his grief hitting her in brutal wave after brutal wave. “I can't…this hurts too much…. please, stop!”

Aidan stared desperately at her, his fingers digging into her arms.

“Stop,” she wept. “I can feel everything you're feeling…you have to stop!”

The little boy began fading. He was talking swiftly now, but not making a sound.

“Wait! Don't go!” Brie cried.

It was too late. The little boy had vanished.

“Did he leave?” Aidan asked, ravaged.

Brie nodded. He was clamping down on his pain. It took her another moment before she could speak. She was left with a dull, throbbing heartache. “Who is he?”

Aidan released her. “My son.” His eyes mirroring the terrible torment he was shielding from her, he strode from the room.

Aidan was haunted by his child.

Brie collapsed onto the bench, her head on her arms on the table, overcome by what had just happened. Aidan's soul was tormented. He was grieving for his dead child. No one should ever have to go through the ordeal of losing a child. Was this how he had lost his faith and his way?

Her grandmother's ring suddenly began pinching her finger. Brie was certain Grandma Sarah had something she wished to say. But Brie was so upset she couldn't sense whatever it was.

Aidan hadn't been able to see his child, but he'd known right away who she'd spoken to. Had Aidan seen his son's ghost before? Why was she the one who could see his son today?

But then, why was she so shockingly and painfully empathic toward Aidan, even across time?

Somehow it was all connected, she thought, and that included her being in the past at Castle Awe, where his little son's ghost was.

Suddenly, a wolf's mournful howl sounded.

Brie sat up, every hair on her body standing on end. The lonely howl was endless, a sound of impossible anguish and deep, dark despair. The grief and hopelessness slowly crept into her, filling her, until she felt as if she was lost in an endless black maze with no possible way out, an eternity of despair ahead.

Just as the howl seemed to have finally faded, it started again, and the long, lonely cry resounded. She stood and walked slowly to the great hall's threshold. Even if she had considered cutting and running earlier—not that she could simply leave Awe—she would never do so now.

This man needed healing, she thought, trembling. And he also needed a friend.

It might not be the best idea to have so much compassion flooding her now, and offering him friendship might be dangerous, but she couldn't stop her feelings—nor did she want to.

Grandma Sarah's ring eased on her finger.

The windows in the corridor outside were small, and she was drawn to the closest one. Through the bars, she looked into an outer ward and at the castle's soaring curtain walls. A full moon was hanging overhead, burning a fiery orange. A red moon rising was the harbinger of great evil, but this was a glimpse of the moon as she had never before seen it. She did not know what the fiery moon meant.

Footsteps sounded, and Brie started as great, white power touched her. A couple turned the corner. The man was a drop-dead gorgeous Highlander, clad exactly like Aidan except for the color of his plaid. It took her a moment to look at the woman at his side. She was very attractive and very tall, with auburn hair. She wore a long leine, a belted plaid and a shortsword—and then Brie saw blue jeans beneath her tunic.

Brie's surprise vanished. Allie had gone back in time last year, and she had just time-traveled, too. The odds were that they weren't the only ones who'd found a way to journey through the ages, and the auburn-haired woman walking toward her was proof.

The strange woman hurried to her. “You're hurt!”

“I was attacked—in New York City,” she said unsteadily, her eyes glued to the woman's face. She had an American accent and wore her hair in a very all-American ponytail.

The woman wasn't surprised by Brie's statement. “I'm Claire, and this is my husband, Malcolm of Dunroch.” Claire laid her hand directly on Brie's bruised ribs, which made Brie wince. “Let me heal you.”

Brie nodded, biting her lip as warmth flowed into her from Claire's hands. She saw that Malcolm stood by one of the barred windows, his expression grim as he gazed out into the night. She didn't have to be telepathic to know that he was listening for the Wolf, waiting for it to howl again. Its reverberating cries had faded. Brie was certain that there would not be any more anguished howls. “It's Aidan,” she said softly.

Malcolm turned toward her and their gazes met. “Aye.” He added, “I am Aidan's half brother.”

Brie was more than surprised, she was relieved and thrilled. Aidan had a family in his corner.

Claire removed her hand. “I'm not a great healer, but that should be better. How do you feel?”

Brie took a breath, and no pain resulted. “Wow. Way better. Thank you. I'm Brie,” she added.

Claire stared intently. “Did Aidan do that to you?”

“No!” Claire was Aidan's sister-in-law, and even
she
thought Aidan capable of hurting her. Unnerved, Brie said grimly, “A gang of boys attacked me, not Aidan.”

Malcolm suddenly strode to them. “I'll take ye back to yer time, lass. 'Tis nay safe fer ye at Awe.”

Brie tensed. In the past moments, it had become very clear that she could not go anywhere—not when Aidan was in such torment. “I don't think he'll hurt me,” she said firmly. Their eyes met and held. Malcolm's gaze was frankly searching. She refused to blush, not wanting him to suspect she had inappropriate feelings for his brother. “If he wanted to hurt me, he had a dozen chances to do so.”

Malcolm and Claire exchanged looks, which did not escape Brie. Malcolm said, “I have chosen to keep faith, but I dinna trust him very well. I dinna think yer safe here. He uses women at will. Why take the risk, Lady Brie?”

Brie lifted her chin, her heart pounding. Malcolm was wrong. Aidan could have used her in the tower, and he hadn't. “If you're telling me that Aidan commits crimes of pleasure, I do not believe it.”

Malcolm flushed. “I willna believe it, either,” he said. “But it's best fer ye to leave Awe.”

He wasn't certain just how demonic Aidan had become. Her heart hurt her now. “He needs his friends,” she said unsteadily. “He needs me,” she added. And she felt color finally creeping into her cheeks.

Malcolm stared at her, as did his wife. “My brother needs no one, an' he'll be the first to tell ye so. He has no friends, nary one. Ye dinna ken him well, lass.”

Brie shook her head, upset. “No one can live alone. Everyone needs friends.”

“Aidan lost his soul decades ago,” Claire said softly. “He has become a dark and dangerous man. He is not the stuff of romantic dreams. I hope you can see that. I hope you aren't interested in him.”

“I'm a Rose,” Brie said, hoping to hide her feelings, which were clearly somewhat obvious. “Rose women are gifted, and we're meant to use our gifts to help those in need. I have the Sight and I'm a strong empath. I met Aidan a year ago, briefly, and never expected to see him again. But recently I have been consumed with his pain and torment, and it's unlike any empathy I've ever had before. I've been brought here for a reason, Claire.”

“An' what reason do ye think yer here for?” Malcolm asked bluntly.

Brie hesitated. “He saved me,” she told them. “The subs would have murdered me and he
saved
me. Maybe it's my turn to help him.”

Claire gasped, “He hasn't rescued an Innocent since his son was murdered.”

Brie breathed hard, anguished for Aidan and his child all over again. “Was it a demon?”

“It was his father,” Claire said.

“Oh, God,” Brie whispered, aghast. “What he has suffered! No wonder he has become so dark!”

Claire grasped her arm. “Brie, you are too involved!”

“How can I not be involved? He needs me—he needs us,” she added quickly, flushing. “We have to help him.”

“Help him how?” Claire cried. “Help him find himself? He is ruthless, Brie.”

Brie hugged herself. “If he was as ruthless as you say, I wouldn't be standing here.”

Claire was pale. “Are you really thinking of befriending him? To what end? To guide him back to his vows? He isn't the same man, and I don't think he'll ever be that man again. He'll destroy you.”

Malcolm took her elbow. “She cares fer him, Claire.”

“Obviously!” Claire cried.

Brie realized there was no point in trying to hide her feelings. “I can't walk away from him—not when he is in such torment. I can't walk away from his son's ghost, either.”

“If there is a ghost,” Claire said.

Brie jerked. “Why would you say that?”

“Because Aidan is the only one who has seen Ian.”

Brie was stunned. “I can see him.”

Claire's eyes widened and she exchanged a sharp look with Malcolm.

“The gods have a reason fer all they do—when they bother with us,” he finally said.

“Maybe you are right, and there's a reason you are here,” Claire said to Brie. She shook her head. “Aren't you afraid of him? We fear him.
Everyone
fears him. He
should
be feared.”

Brie did fear him. He made her uncomfortable, and he was so unpredictable. She was terrified of the Wolf. But she didn't think he would hurt her. She'd meant what she'd said earlier. He'd had many chances to do so. “He still has a conscience.”

Malcolm started. “Ye have faith. I am pleased.”

Claire spoke grimly. “Befriend him—save him if you can—but do not trust him,” she warned.

Brie knew it was really good advice. And the truth was, she didn't quite trust him, so Claire's advice would be easy to follow.

Malcolm spoke. “I still fear fer ye, lass. In good conscience, I canna leave an' Innocent in this place with my brother. Would ye care to come to Dunroch with us? Ye can save him in bits an' pieces, from a safe distance.”

Brie wasn't going anywhere. “I appreciate your concern, but I'll stay here.” She couldn't befriend Aidan if she was at Dunroch. She stared at the handsome couple. “Do you guys know Black Royce and the lady of Carrick?”

Malcolm smiled. “Royce is my uncle, lass, and we ken them well.”

Brie felt so much relief. She desperately needed backup, and Allie was the best backup there was. “Are they far from here?”

“By horse, Carrick is a two- or three-day ride, depending on the time of year,” Claire said, grinning. “I should have known you and Allie were friends. I'll let her know that you're at Awe.”

“Thank you,” Brie said. She wasn't as alone as she'd been an hour ago, and now, understanding more of what had happened to Aidan, her purpose was becoming clearer. “I have one more question. What is today's date?”

“'Tis November 18th,” Malcolm said. “November the 18th, in the year 1502.”

Brie froze in horror.

 

H
E LAY IN THE COLD
,
WET EARTH
, panting hard, uncontrollably, his head on his paws. Overhead, the moon was huge and bright.
Brianna could see his son.

He'd howled his anguish until he could not howl anymore.
Why could she see Ian when no one else could, except for him?

The pack of wolves that had gathered, heeding his despair, ringed him in the glade where he lay unmoving, overcome with torment. The females wanted him; the males would die for him, and they would remain there until he changed forms, protecting him. He made no move to do so. In that moment, he did not ever want to go back to Castle Awe.

Why had Ian gone to her today, instead of to him?