CHAPTER ELEVEN #4
Claire had finally translated the first Latin line.
She looked up, aware that her hands were shaking from her excitement.
“How can you say that this is worthless?” she exclaimed.
“This is some kind of prayer to heal. Why do you think this is worthless? Where did you find this, Aidan? It is priceless.”
He strolled over. “I found it in yer store, Claire,” he murmured.
Claire wished he would stop trying to remind her that he was sexy. “Where in my store?” she demanded.
Aidan started to laugh. “In a King James Bible.”
Claire stood up, stunned. There was one King James Bible in her inventory, and it had been published in 1728. She had acquired the Bible just a month ago from an estate in London.
“There was a hiding place in the back cover,” Aidan said. “I dinna ken how I found it. Sibylla had looked at the Bible first. I felt her prints on it. I be followin’ her trail.”
Claire stared at Malcolm’s half brother. He could feel fingerprints? She focused. “This is a huge find,” she stressed. She turned to Malcolm. “The sooner we translate this page, the better. But how did this page get into my store? Was it hidden in the Bible all along?” She didn’t look at Royce now.
“It could ha’ been in that Bible fer centuries, Claire,” Malcolm said softly.
“And fate brought me to the Bible—and the page to my store?” She finally looked at Royce.
His gaze skidded aside.
“I can take ye back if ye wish t’ do some searchin’,” Aidan said, grinning.
Before Claire could politely refuse, Malcolm barked, “Ye’ll take Claire nowhere, Aidan. Nowhere.”
Aidan shrugged, his eyes gleaming. “’Twas only a suggestion.
” Then he sobered. “The page doesna have power, Lady Claire. I can read well enough. ’Tis prayers an’ a blessing to keep the mortally wounded from dyin’, if the wounds be inflicted from a sword or a similar cuttin’ weapon.
My squire impaled himself. I tried to protect him from dyin’ and I failed. There’s no power in that page.”
It took Claire a moment to understand what he was telling her.
But Malcolm looked at Aidan and spoke. He said, “Yer half Deamhan. The Deamhanain destroy. They canna heal. Yet ye tried to heal?” He was scathing.
Aidan clearly did not wish to speak, but he said coldly, “I may be half Deamhan, but I be Faola’s grandson. An’ I have healed, Malcolm, with these two hands an’ a great white light.” He held up his hands, which were shaking with his anger.
Royce walked over to stand between them. “I be pleased ye can heal a bit, Aidan.” He glared at Malcolm. “Ye need set aside yer privy battles now. There be more important matters to attend.”
Claire sat back down on the bench. Aidan had some ability to heal and Malcolm did not. That was interesting enough. Did it mean that the various Masters inherited traits in the same manner that people did?
Aidan’s mouth was hard. “The power be new to me. I healed a very sick lass once. I didna ken it well an’ it made me weak.” He flushed, looking at Royce. “I didna think t’ use such a weakening power again.”
Claire was riveted. He’d healed a woman, and in doing so lost some of his strength?
“Mayhap the power will grow an’ be easier to use, in time.” Royce clasped his shoulder. “I be glad ye saved a life.”
Claire stood. “Malcolm.” She walked over to him and smiled earnestly.
“It doesn’t matter whether this page has healing power or not.
What matters is that it might be from the Cladich.
This page is incredibly valuable if it is genuine.
It needs to be enshrined or go back to my time with the rest of the recovered manuscript, so it can be preserved. ”
Malcolm shook his head. “It matters if it doesna have powers, Claire. It matters greatly. If it be genuine, it will heal.”
He didn’t get it, Claire thought. Twenty-first century scholars would beg to have the opportunity to study this page.
And she didn’t get its value to him, either. “You can take life to heal. Why is the Cladich so important?”
Malcolm made a sound. “Because we dinna need take life if we have the powers in the Cladich, Claire. The book can heal on its own.”
Claire breathed hard. “So the book can heal the dying?” A Master would never have to take life if he was dying in order to survive. She got it now, all right. The book was beyond priceless.
And no wonder Moray wanted it. He could heal his demonic hordes with it. Holy shit.
“Aye. If ye read the right pages. Each page has its own cause.”
And Claire suddenly shivered, because an icy chill had settled over the hall. Someone must have left the front door open.
But as the temperature dropped, just the way it had in the glade when they had first arrived in the fifteenth century, Claire began to realize what was happening.
Malcolm stepped beside her, filled with so much alarm and urgency Claire felt it. With dread, Claire followed his intense gaze to the open door. A black shadow filled it.
Death, Claire thought, unable to breathe.
But the black shadow parted to reveal a golden man in crimson robes. And the earl of Moray smiled at her. “Hello, Claire.”