CHAPTER THIRTEEN
brIE STARED AT THE WOLF. “Please,” she said to Tabby, glancing at her again.
Tabby nodded, clearly distraught. Brie hurried toward the Wolf.
Understanding her, he slipped into the tent, and Brie followed him inside.
It felt like a relief to have escaped all those curious and hostile gazes.
Tabby entered, but before Guy could follow, she blocked the entrance. “Darling, please wait outside.”
A look of sheer mutiny crossed his dark, handsome face. “I beg yer pardon, Tabitha, but when hell freezes over.” Guy Macleod stepped past his wife, staring coldly at the Wolf. “I willna leave ye alone with either the beast or the deamhan.”
Brie’s heart sank even further. She’d assumed she would find more allies in Tabby and her husband, but she had been wrong.
No one trusted the Wolf—and she didn’t exactly blame them.
But no one trusted Aidan, either, except for her and possibly Allie and Malcolm.
Everyone kept saying he was feared and despised, and now she had seen that firsthand. Finally she believed it.
They needed help from every possible quarter. She had no confidence that the Masters would rally to his side. However, it was their duty to the gods to vanquish Moray, whether that helped Aidan or not.
Tabby murmured, “He’s caught in a powerful binding spell.”
Brie started. “Can you release him?”
“I think so,” Tabby said. She looked at Guy.
He slipped from the tent. Brie was confused, but Tabby said, “Just wait a moment. I need the Book.”
Brie gaped. “You have our Book? The Book of Roses?”
“I had to take it with me,” Tabby said. “You know that the Rose with the most magic is always the one to keep and guard the Book.”
Brie worried about Sam now. “How long will Sam be alone in New York without either one of us?”
“I don’t know,” Tabby said with a grimace. “It’s not a good idea to bounce around the future. The Code says that one must never encounter oneself in another time.”
Brie decided not to ask what the Code was. Guy stepped back inside, handing Tabby the massive, worn volume. Over two thousand pages long, it contained spells, magic, myths, legends and the kind of Wisdom a Rose would need in order to save others. Some of the folklore was older than the Bible.
Tabby sat on one of the rugs, cross-legged, glancing at the Wolf. “Come sit with me,” she said.
He obeyed.
It only took Tabby a moment to find what she was looking for, which amazed Brie.
In the past—as recently as a few days ago—it could take Tabby weeks to find what she needed, and half the time she was wrong anyway.
Or, her spells were too weak and wound up useless.
Now Tabby spoke softly in Gaelic, reading from the page.
Brie only understood bits and pieces of the spell.
Tabby was calling on different white and holy powers to break the black magic keeping Aidan bound in the Wolf. Then Tabby closed the Book.
Her face had become odd, waxlike. Her eyes seemed glazed.
Her body had become rigid. She lifted her hands and murmured words Brie didn’t comprehend at all.
She wasn’t even certain what language Tabby now spoke.
The air in the tent swirled, lifting the blankets on the bed, pushing Brie’s hair into her eyes, causing the canvas door to flap and then shudder.
And Aidan was sitting beside her.
Instantly Brie felt anger and desire. She bit off a gasp as Aidan stood, starkly naked, his muscles tense and rippling, reaching for a plaid at the foot of the bed. Someone snorted—Guy. Aidan wrapped the plaid around his waist, his gaze moving immediately to Brie.
Their gazes locked and his emotions vanished, carefully shielded from her. Brie inhaled hard. She nodded at him, aware that she was crying with relief.
Dinna cry fer me.
He was still communicating telepathically, she realized, because he hadn’t opened his mouth to speak. He turned, his gaze hooded. “Thank ye, Lady Tabitha.” His tone was very neutral.
Tabby’s expression was utterly normal now. “You’re welcome.”
Guy helped Tabby to her feet, and he stared at Aidan. “Ye owe my lady a great debt,” he said softly. “I’ll make certain ’tis repaid.”
Brie glanced between the two men. She saw Aidan’s tension soar. She saw the same tension on Guy’s face. Macleod didn’t like or trust Aidan, and Aidan was so easily provoked. That was just great.
She stepped between them. “Thank you for coming to our rescue,” she said to Guy, meaning it.
He did not smile at her. “My wife loves ye greatly, but ’tis my duty as her husband to keep her safe. I’ll keep her far from this intrigue now.” He glanced coolly at Aidan. “I ken ye wish to redeem him, but I dinna think it possible.”
Brie looked beseechingly at Tabby, who said, “He’s very overprotective. We’ll be outside.” Tabby squeezed her hand, sending Aidan a worried look. “Brie, if you need us, we’ll be in calling distance.”
“I’ll be fine. I need a moment with Aidan.”
Tabby was doubtful. She took her husband’s hand and tugged Guy with her. They slipped from the tent.
They were alone. Brie didn’t hesitate. She whirled, almost colliding into Aidan, who reflexively reached out to steady her. “Thank God you’re back!” His strong hands were on her shoulders and his beautiful face was inches from hers.
His blue gaze met hers, blinding in its intensity. His expression was severe. “I owe ye a great debt, Brianna, just as I owe Lady Allie an’ Lady Tabitha.”
He hadn’t released her. He was alive—they were both alive. This last crisis had taken her love to a new, more profound place. Brie was acutely aware of his big, masculine body, and that awareness made her ache desperately to be in his embrace. “You almost died, Aidan. I almost lost you.”
His chest rose and fell, hard. He did not speak, but his plaid shifted, tenting thickly.
Brie felt his desire the moment he lost control of his emotions.
Hot and huge, it pulsed between them, flooding her, drenching her.
He wanted her, too. There was no more denying the attraction or, damn it, the friendship.
They had been through so much! It was time to be in his arms, his bed.
It would be a celebration of life, of hope.
He tensed, shaking his head, his eyes hard and wary. He dropped his hands. “Ye dinna think clearly…ye think only with yer female heat.”
Of course, he was reading her mind. She quickly laid her palms on his chest. “Aidan, I am thinking with more than my body and you know it. Don’t turn away from me, not now. Not after all of this.”
She felt his heart thunder at an impossible rate. “I’m very much alive,” he said thickly. “As ye can see—as ye can feel. Ye want more than I can give. Mayhap ye should be with Seoc.” He shuddered beneath her hands.
Pleasure—impossible, delighted pleasure—flooded her, coming from him.
It was almost blinding in intensity and in desperation.
She saw that he was fighting his reaction to her, and she couldn’t comprehend why.
“Aidan?” she whispered. And as she slid her hands up higher, he gasped, his eyes closing, his thick black lashes fanning.
He arched backward, causing her hand to press more firmly against his chest and his erection to push more heavily at her, and he moaned again.
It was the most desperate sound she had ever heard. It was also the most sexual.
A sheen of sweat erupted on his face. Brie reached for his waist, gasping as his entire length surged against her belly, and she pressed her mouth to his hot, wet skin, to his rib cage.
Excitement exploded in him, in her. But the desperation was even stronger, overwhelming.
She could hardly think. She knew he couldn’t think clearly now, either.
Instinct prompted her. “I love you, Aidan.” She kissed his chest again, then rubbed her mouth there.
“Brianna,” he cried, shuddering.
His hard arm went around her. She looked up in time to see his eyes blaze with urgency, and his mouth came down on hers.
Brie cried out; his mouth cut off her cry.
She closed her eyes as his lips claimed hers, and exultancy began.
She had wanted his kiss forever! He bent her backward, but this was better than her dreams. Brie tried to kiss him back.
It was almost impossible, and she went still, letting his mouth devour hers.
The kiss raged, deep and wet, and Brie began to weep in joy, clinging to him.
He moved her and the back of her thighs hit the bed. She went down on her back and he came down on top of her, his tongue deep in her mouth. Brie moved her hands over his hard, muscular back, arching her hips toward his. He ripped the plaid from his loins and flung it aside.
She stroked past his shoulder blades. He shuddered and gasped. She battled back tears, crying for him, because he was so famished for love and affection.
He broke the kiss. His blue eyes were wide, locking with hers. Brie smiled at him and stroked up to his shoulders, clasping them briefly, and he shuddered again, his eyes closing. When she slid her hand up his neck, he moaned and sank onto the bed beside her, on his back.
The sight of Aidan lying there, arched back into the pillows, the most magnificent man she had ever seen, made her heart slam.
She had to touch him, caress him and give him so much love, as much as she could. Brie raised up and laid her hand on his chest again, and he cried out, seizing it, pressing it hard to the muscles there. Ye torture me.
He hadn’t spoken aloud. Brie smiled a little at him. “Let me love you, Aidan. Let me heal you.” She dropped a kiss on his shoulder and another one on his chest.
“Yer the virgin,” he gasped roughly.
Brie was already moving her hand down his tight, cut abdomen. He reared up. As she caressed him, she saw two tears slip free of his lower lashes and track in parallel lines down to his jaw.
He was crying.
She leaned over and kissed his belly, sliding her hand back up to his chest. As she kissed him, she let her love burst forth.
He choked.