CHAPTER EIGHTEEN #2
“No!” she cried. She seized his hands. “He was watching over me, Malcolm—for you.” Impossibly, she was defending Aidan now.
“I did find pleasure tonight,” she whispered, blushing.
“It was only a dream, but I was with you and it was wonderful. He heard me from the hall and thought I might be with a demon. He barged in to rescue me. That is all,” she said firmly.
Malcolm stared at her. Claire hated lying by omission. “Please forgive him,” she said hoarsely. “He’s your brother. The two of you should be allies, friends.”
Malcolm’s gaze turned ice-cold. “He’ll stay away from ye now. I’ve had enough of his lustin’ fer ye.”
“He doesn’t lust for me,” she cried.
He raised both brows.
“Malcolm! All the Masters are impossibly oversexed. Aidan lusts for anything young, pretty and female!”
Some of his tension eased. “Ye wish fer us to be friends?” He was clearly disbelieving.
“Yes, I do.”
“He be Moray’s son. He be a rogue.” He was grim, and from his expression, she saw that he did not trust Aidan. And how could he, when Aidan chose to behave so erratically and selfishly? At times she liked him and trusted him, but at other times she did not.
Malcolm had pulled away. He lifted his gaze to her. “I need ye, Claire. In bed, the way ye want it. Slow.”
Claire’s eyes widened. Was he telling her he wanted to make love to her? Or that he wanted to have sex, just in a less frenzied way?
She began to nod. The tension that was pulsing now felt right, not dark, not evil.
“Well,” she said softly, breathless now, “there’s a few hours before dawn.”
He slowly smiled, the most seductive smile she had ever seen. Her body erupted into flames.
Past his shoulder, through the open door, she saw Aidan coming down the hall. Claire was filled with dismay. It was too late. Malcolm turned. Aidan glanced inside and faltered, starting as he saw Malcolm.
Go away! Claire thought silently, praying Aidan might hear.
But he only glanced briefly at her as he stepped to the threshold of the room. “Ye been released?” he exclaimed to Malcolm, his relief evident.
“Aye.” Malcolm smiled coldly. “An’ I be tired o’ watchin’ ye lust fer what is mine.”
Aidan’s relief vanished. He smiled coolly. “I’d never touch yer woman.” He turned and walked up the hall, toward the chamber he shared with Isabel.
Claire leaped past Malcolm and slammed their door closed. “I am proud of you,” she began, when a sudden sense of dread began and she knew something terrible was about to happen.
Malcolm felt it, too, because he tensed, his expression becoming one of alarm, an expression she now hated.
“What is it? Is it evil?” she gasped hoarsely.
Before Malcolm could answer, a horrible cry sounded. It was anguished, a cry of protest, of outrage.
“Aidan!” Malcolm exclaimed.
He seized the door, flinging it open. Claire followed him, uncertain that he had correctly identified the cry, because she could not recognize Aidan’s voice in that raw sound. And now there was only a terrible, frightening silence.
Malcolm ran past several doors, Claire on his heels. Aidan’s door was ajar and Malcolm barged inside, Claire with him. She saw Aidan on his knees, head bowed. For a split second she thought he was praying.
And then she saw Isabel.
She lay on her back, naked, hair streaming, eyes wide and sightless.
Claire gasped in horror. And then she saw the slight smile on her face.
Malcolm knelt. “Can ye find yer powers?”
Aidan did not speak. He was as still as a statue, staring at his mistress.
Malcolm touched Isabel and jerked to look at Claire. “She’s cold. She’s gone.”
“Close her eyes,” Claire said harshly. She rushed to Aidan and knelt, carefully touching his shoulder. She saw shock on his face and looked at Malcolm. Moray had done this. She had no doubt. “Help him.”
Malcolm lifted Isabel and laid her on the bed, covering her entirely with a blanket. As he did, Aidan stood. The shock vanished from his expression. He stared at Isabel’s corpse, his eyes burning with hatred, and Claire knew he was lusting for vengeance.
“Aidan,” Claire said. Resolute, she went to him and tried to take his hand. “I am so sorry. Come, sit down. You’re in shock.”
He jerked free, not looking at her; Claire wasn’t sure he’d even heard her or knew she was there. He started for the door.
Malcolm ran in front of him and barred his way. “Ye canna defeat Moray. Ye’ll die.”
Aidan smiled coldly. “Get out o’ my way.”
“Don’t let him go,” Claire whispered.
Malcolm did not take his gaze from his half brother. “I canna allow ye to hunt Moray.”
“Get out o’ my way,” Aidan snarled. His teeth gleamed very brightly, and saliva dripped.
His expression was odd and frightening. Claire had never seen such a savage look on a man’s face.
Aidan snarled at Malcolm.
The sound was filled with menace and was unbelievably bestial. Claire’s insides lurched. She had a very bad feeling, but she did not know what to expect.
And she saw Aidan’s beard growing at an impossible rate.
Malcolm stiffened. “Aidan!” It was an alarmed cry of protest.
Aidan snarled again. This time there was no mistaking the sound—it wasn’t human, it was canine. And before her eyes she saw a gray wolf appear in his place.
Claire cried out, backing away. The wolf stood very still, crouched to attack, hackles raised, growling in such a way that it was clear he would assault Malcolm and ravage him to death.
Claire was stunned, but she instantly understood.
Shape-shifting was one of the most basic tenets of Celtic culture, so why wouldn’t these Masters have the ability to change from man to beast?
If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have believed it.
What she didn’t know was whether Aidan remained inside the animal at all, or if only a murderous beast was there instead.
“Malcolm, get out of his way,” she said, her heart thundering.
The wolf snarled once again, fangs dripping. Claire was afraid it would leap on Malcolm at any moment.
Malcolm did not move. “I didna believe ye could shape-shift,” he said slowly. “Even though I heard ye called the Wolf of Awe.” He hesitated. “Don’t do this. Claire be right. Yer my brother. We’ll hunt Moray together, the way brothers should.”
The wolf snarled and sprang. His assault was so powerful that Claire knew Malcolm could not defend himself against such a supernatural beast. She screamed.
But Malcolm got down on one knee and the wolf bounded easily over him. It raced into the hall at such speed its feet barely touched the floor.
Malcolm followed, as did Claire. The wolf ran down the corridor toward the window. They ran after it. “Aidan, don’t!” Malcolm shouted.
Too late. It leaped through the window, breaking the glazed glass.
Claire could not control another scream, this one of horror. She ran with Malcolm to the window and looked down. They were on the third floor. She expected to see a mangled wolf lying below, or a mangled man. Nothing lay in the shadows of the courtyard.
Malcolm grasped her elbow.
She followed his gaze. Against the moon, she saw a hawk soaring rapidly into the distance.
Tears began. Claire wept for Isabel, and she wept for Aidan, too.
Malcolm pulled her into his arms.
MALCOLM POURED THEM BOTH mugs of wine. Claire stood at the window, watching the night sky fading, turning mauve. He handed her the wine and she thanked him. More tears fell.
He put his arm around her. “I ken ye wanted t’ save Isabel.”
“With all my heart!” she cried. “She was sweet, guileless, more child than woman. She reminded me of my cousin Lorie.”
Malcolm pulled away, his expression dark and grim.
Claire wiped her tears. She wanted to grieve, but there wasn’t time. “I think we should return to Dunroch. We can’t help Aidan if the king throws you back in prison. We should leave while we still can.”
He stared at her, looking damned unhappy.
“I know you are worried about Royce and Aidan.” She took both of his hands. “Can you admit it?”
“Aye, I be worried fer them both. But there be truth in yer words, Claire. If I dinna leave, I may be returned to the tower. I canna help anyone then.”
“So we’ll go?”
“Aye, at first light.”
She didn’t let him walk away. “Malcolm, you promised you would teach me to fight. It’s clear that I am at a disadvantage here, in your time, even at court, by not having some fighting skills.
And we both know I will need those skills when I go home, because I won’t be surrounded by Masters then.
” The thought of going home made her feel even sadder than she already felt, but she’d deal with her feelings another time.
She had to learn to fight. She’d had enough of evil.
She’d had enough of destruction and death.
He pulled his hands from hers. “I’ll teach ye at Dunroch.”
Claire could feel him thinking about her going home, but not his exact thoughts. “I have to go back some time,” she said hesitantly, almost wishing he’d refute her words.
He turned away.
She retreated. They had enough burdens now, and she wanted to ease Malcolm’s worries if she could, just a bit. “Look, I don’t think Aidan is rushing after Moray this instant. After all, Moray is here. He isn’t going to assault the Defender of the Realm at court. He’s smart. He’ll cool down.”
“If Aidan hunts Moray, he will die. He doesna have the power to defeat his father.”
“Will he ever have that power?”
“Moray’s power comes from Satan.”
Claire had a striking thought. “Aidan is Moray’s son. I bet, genetically, his powers are close to his father’s. Maybe he’ll get the power he needs from God—if we don’t nail the bastard demon first.”
“Mayhap.”
She had never seen Malcolm so grim. “So you admit he is not evil?”
He seemed reluctant. “He’s nay evil.”
Claire almost smiled. He was capable of changing profound beliefs. He was open-minded, and it meant everything to her—not that it changed their future.
A wolf howled.
Goose bumps began and Claire and Malcolm exchanged looks. The howl continued, a sound of anguish and loneliness. And Claire was certain that it was also a sound of guilt and regret.
She went to Malcolm, who was stricken. He put an arm around her. The wolf howled again. Aidan was entitled to his grief, even if Isabel had been a passing fancy. “He blames himself,” she whispered.
“Aye. He be her lord an’ he failed in his duty to her. ’Twas his responsibility to protect her.”
Moray had done this to his own son, Claire thought grimly as a knock sounded on the door.
Malcolm’s expression turned stoic, impossible to read. He went to the door, where a household guard stood. She tensed as the two exchanged words in Gaelic. Then the guard left, but she did not relax. “What is it?”
Malcolm went to her and touched her hair. “Dinna worry, but the queen has summoned me.”
It took Claire one moment to become enraged and horrified. “She’s summoning you in the middle of the night? For what purpose?” she cried. Before Malcolm could answer, she said, “Oh, let me guess! She’s done with Royce and she wants to try you out in her bed!”
“Claire, we dinna ken what she wishes. But I canna refuse her summons.”
And he couldn’t refuse an invitation for sex, either, could he? “Where the hell is the king?”
“Dinna fret so. James be an early riser an’ it’s almost dawn. She willna be takin’ a lover at this hour.” And then he shocked her by pulling her close and kissing her lightly on the cheek, the way a suburban husband might before his daily commute.
Claire wasn’t reassured. She watched him go, hating her helplessness and the tyranny of the king and queen. In that one moment she had never appreciated the freedom of an open, democratic society more.
She tried to remind herself that she didn’t know what the queen really wanted. But damn it, if her suspicions were right, Malcolm would have to pleasure the queen when he belonged to her.
Claire shivered. The last thing they needed was for Malcolm to get on the queen’s sexual radar. She pulled her brat closer to her body, wondering if they’d left the shutters open. But a quick glance showed her that Malcolm had closed the shutter.
The chamber became frigidly cold.
Comprehension began. Claire turned slowly, horror rising.
And the earl of Moray smiled at her, exactly as he had a few hours ago in her dream. “I said I would come back for you,” he murmured.
Terror overcame her and she could barely think.
The Deamhan opened the closet door and held out his hand. Terrified, the child took it, and he pulled her into the light and she saw his face.
Claire cried out. “It was you!”