CHAPTER TWELVE #2
Read my mind now, Aidan. Where are you? Let me help you!
A silence shimmered in her mind; there was only his pain and some kind of elaborate struggle. She did not understand it.
Royce had been clasping her shoulders, and he released her. “We’ll find him, Lady Brie,” he offered, grave and unsmiling. He looked at Allie and then strode off.
Brie saw a young Highlander bring Royce’s mount to him. She touched her cheeks, which were wet with tears. Please come back. Please tell me where you are.
Allie slid her arm around Brie and did not speak. Brie suddenly felt his pain again, a huge, hard wave that made her double over. Allie sent her more healing light, and as the pain vanished, they shared a grim look.
“I am going to keep my healing power on you, because his pain is too much for you to bear.”
Allie was right. God, what had happened to him? “He can’t die today, this way,” Brie cried, suddenly furious. She swatted at her tears. It crossed her frantic mind that he was supposed to hang, but she was not soothed. Maybe his Fate was death, and it simply didn’t matter how he died.
Worse, he’d waited to die once, when he’d been buried alive. What if he was so badly hurt that he would accept his death now?
She looked at Allie, burning with determination. “I won’t let him die.”
brIE HAD BEEN SEARCHING FOR him all day on foot.
Allie remained a constant shadow, clearly afraid to leave her.
Every now and then she doused Brie with white light to keep his pain marginalized.
Hours passed. Brie felt at her wit’s end.
The only positive in the crisis was that he remained in pain, which meant he was alive.
She climbed the ridge for the fifth or sixth time, as it was a good vantage point.
Mountains surrounded them. Another huge glen lay to the north, containing a vast, shining loch, and to the south was what was left of their camp.
Most of the armies had marched on toward their rendezvous with the MacDonald and the Macleans.
Just ahead of her, the air suddenly shimmered and shifted.
Brie tensed, filled with hope, but it was Ian who emerged from the mist.
She went still in surprise.
He pointed at her and began speaking urgently, but she did not hear a word.
“Allie, can you see Ian’s ghost?”
Allie hurried to her side. “He’s here? I can’t see him, Brie.”
“Ian, wait. What is it?” The little boy was close to tears, and she knelt. The timing could not have been worse. She needed to search for Aidan, not spend time trying to communicate with his dead son.
The boy trotted ahead of her, then paused and looked at her, clearly waiting.
It was obvious what he wanted. “He wants me to follow him,” Brie gasped, and she hurried after the little ghost.
He began to run.
Brie broke into a jog. “I can’t keep up with you!” she cried.
But the little boy didn’t slow down.
Brie forced herself to keep up, with Allie at her side—Allie had jettisoned her high heels for Nikes earlier. Brie was winded instantly, but Allie breathed easily enough. Knowing Allie, she probably ran miles every day, did a thousand crunches and God only knew what else.
They followed the ghost into the woods that covered the south face of the mountain. “Where is he taking us?” Allie asked.
Brie couldn’t answer, but she was praying even harder now to every god she could think of.
“I hope you’re right,” Allie whispered, “and he’s taking us to Aidan.”
Suddenly Ian’s ghost vanished in the midst of the thick forest. They were on a deer trail, surrounded by nearly impenetrable woods. Brie stopped, so badly out of breath that her lungs burned. And the dark heap of brush blocking their way seemed to move.
She cried out. It wasn’t a pile of dirty leaves and deadwood. It was a wolf.
Bloody and mangled, it rose up and crawled forward a step, its gaze blue and direct. Then it collapsed.
“Aidan!” Brie screamed, running to him. She knelt in the dirt and leaves, horrified. His left hind leg was almost completely severed from his hip. His chest and shoulder were raw, gaping wounds and his coat was soaked with blood. He was going to die if Allie couldn’t save him.
She gathered his large head into her arms and held him tightly to her breasts, overcome with fear. “It’s okay. You’ll be all right. Allie is here,” she choked.
Surprisingly long lashes lifted, and he looked at her with his human blue eyes, which were clouded with pain.
Brie kissed the fur at his temple, suppressing another sob.
Allie knelt beside them, showering him with a thick cloud of white light.
The Wolf’s eyes closed and Brie held his head more tightly to her chest, leaning her cheek against his furry neck. You will not die, she told him fiercely. I love you so much.
The great beast seemed to stir in her arms. She looked up at Allie, knowing better than to interrupt her while she healed.
Allie was focused entirely on Aidan, and her body radiated with her white healing power.
Brie had never seen so much power coming from her before.
In seventy-two years, her healing powers had obviously grown a lot.
Brie saw that his hind leg looked whole now and she watched the pink skin knitting and the fur growing back. She stroked the thick fur at his nape, watching his shoulder healing. She couldn’t see the rest of his wounds, but she felt his body finally relax in her arms.
Allie sat back, emitting a huge sigh. She was covered in perspiration and she wiped her brow with her sleeve. “He’ll live. Wow.” She finally looked at Brie very seriously. “He was in a fight for his life.”
Brie stroked the Wolf, who lay still now.
She and Allie regarded one another, and Brie didn’t need telepathy to know that Allie was wondering how they would ever defeat Moray, just as she was.
Then she glanced down. Aidan gazed up at her out of his brilliant, human blue eyes, but he remained in the Wolf’s body.
He slid back on his haunches and simply sat there, dwarfing her.
Brie tensed. She didn’t really like being seated on the ground with the Wolf there, watching her so intently. “Is he healed?” she asked, cautiously standing.
“Yeah,” Allie said, wiping her cheek this time. She didn’t try to get up.
“Then why isn’t he shifting back into a man?” Brie did not take her eyes from the Wolf.
“I don’t know.” Allie sounded tired.
Brie didn’t move and neither did the Wolf. Why hadn’t Aidan shifted back? “Aidan? You’re making me nervous. Can you come back to us, please?”
He gave her a very human, very direct, extremely male look, and he stood on all fours.
Her tension increased. She reminded herself that he did not look vicious now, but that unwavering stare was unnerving.
The forest shuddered as wolves began slipping out from behind the trees, some gray, some darker, some black. Not one was as pitch-black as he was.
Brie didn’t move, frozen, and finally Allie was on her feet, too. “What’s going on?” Brie asked Allie.
“I don’t know,” Allie said, but her hand produced a small, dangerous-looking dagger.
They willna hurt ye.
Brie jerked, for she had just heard Aidan speaking. She looked at Allie, who hadn’t reacted. “You didn’t hear that, did you?”
“No.”
Brie looked at the huge wolf, and it stared back at her. “You almost died. Thank God you’re alive.” There was no response. “Why won’t you shift into a man?”
The blue eyes changed, and she felt a huge and sudden frustration. I canna shift…he’s trapped me.
Disbelief began. Reason chased it aside. Hadn’t Moray trapped them both in the dream for a while?
Ever astute, Allie whispered, “Is he under a spell?”
Brie wet her lips. “Yes, he is.”
The Wolf glanced toward the deeper part of the woods and Brie realized he was going to vanish into the forest with the pack.
She stepped forward, reaching out, then withdrew her hand, thinking the better of it.
She didn’t know how much of the beast was a savage, feral wolf and how much was the man she loved.
“Please don’t go. If you go, how will I find you? ”
I ken where ye’ll be, Brianna.
His blue eyes held hers. Then the Wolf bounded past her, disappearing into the forest, the other wolves following. Brie just stood there, stricken with dismay.
“Well, at least he’s alive,” Allie said slowly.
Brie hugged herself. “And a wolf can’t hang.”
brIE CROUCHED BY THE TENT FLAP, holding it slightly ajar, her body stiff with tension. She was spying on the Brotherhood.
She’d felt the power, massive and male, emerging from the mists of time, as Master after Master leapt to their camp.
Dozens of holy, time-traveling, superpowered medieval Highland warriors were standing outside Aidan’s tent.
A volatile discussion had begun. Voices were raised, tempers high.
Her mouth was so dry she couldn’t swallow.
She couldn’t focus on their words, although many of them were speaking English.
Each and every Master personified masculine perfection in one way or another.
Some of the Highlanders were drop-dead gorgeous, like Aidan; others were ruthlessly male, like Royce.
Biceps bulged, as did thighs—and the occasional English codpiece. Testosterone thickened the air.
The flap was pulled from her hand, and she straightened, heart slamming, as a Paul Walker look-alike in medieval Highland gear dimpled at her. His eyes were a dazzling shade of green. “Do ye wish to join us?” he asked.
She tried to find her tongue. Why on earth was he undressing her with his eyes?
Because of the hour, she was swaddled up in her many layers of modern and medieval clothes, not to mention that she wore the silly pince-nez.
She was hardly attractive. “I…er…isn’t the council… classified?” she stuttered.
“Why do ye panic so, Brianna Rose?” he asked softly.
“How do you know my name?” she managed in surprise.
“I’m a friend of Lady Allie’s. Ye may call me Seoc or MacNeil.”