CHAPTER THIRTEEN #4
But she had to rise above her own feelings. He was in danger. His life and his soul were on the line. She had gone back in time to redeem him, not to fall in love with him.
She was a Rose. Rose women never quit.
She wanted to cry. Instead she inhaled. “Is there any way I can convince you to hunt with the other Masters? You’ve already faced Moray alone—twice—and it didn’t work out very well.”
His mouth curled dangerously. “I willna hunt with the brethren, Brianna, and they willna hunt with me.”
Brie was ready to dispute that when Aidan suddenly stiffened. Brie was briefly stunned by white power before the tent flap lifted. What was this? she wondered, turning to look at the tent’s entrance.
The golden Highlander who looked like Matthew McConaughey stepped inside, nodding at them. If he knew he was interrupting a very tense, awkward and private moment, he did not show it.
“I will have a word with Aidan now, Lady Brianna,” he said.
Brie was completely distracted. His tone was one of pure authority and she knew he was never disputed.
His stature was as commanding, and there was simply no mistaking the holy power that cloaked him.
He was close to the gods, closer than the other Masters.
“Who are you?” she asked. More importantly, what did he want?
His mouth curved. His amazing green eyes were warm and friendly and filled with good humor. “The Abbot of Iona an’ yer friend.” He added, “Sometimes the Masters accept my suggestions. I manage the Brotherhood fer the gods.”
Brie got it. He was commander in chief.
“Ye can call me MacNeil,” he said softly, his gaze unwavering.
As overwhelmed as she was by his power, it was really hard not to notice what an incredible hunk he was. Unlike some of the Masters, like Royce and Guy, he didn’t have that supermacho, medieval aura. This man was undoubtedly well-traveled, sophisticated and reasonable.
He smiled at her. “My life is nay an easy task.”
Brie smiled back. “I’ll bet.”
And she felt Aidan’s anger. She turned. He had crossed his arms across his chest so tightly his biceps bulged. His eyes blazed. Brie now thought about his dispute with the abbot.
MacNeil turned. “Hallo a Aidan,” he said softly. “Yer a sight for my sore eyes.”
Aidan said harshly, “I dinna care.”
Brie tensed in dismay. She had felt MacNeil’s love for Aidan, and it had been paternal. “Do you want me to leave?” she asked.
“Ye should stay,” MacNeil said, sending her another warm smile. He spoke with authority, but posed a question. “Aidan, will ye come with me to Iona?”
“I will never come with ye to Iona,” Aidan said savagely.
MacNeil did not seem disturbed. “Ye healed Brianna with a power only the gods can give. Ye rescued her several times. I believe ye spent last night warmin’ her bed in a very mortal way. Ye can deny it, but the facts speak loudly. Lad, ye’ll never finish the fall.”
“Then I will remain half deamhan, an evil that leaves his victims alive an’ a man who enjoys mortal desire. I willna go back to the Brotherhood. Damn ye all to hell!”
Brie gasped. “Aidan, he is your friend, no matter what happened,” she tried.
He looked at her, flushing. “Ye think a night in my bed gives ye any rights? It doesna!” He pointed at MacNeil, his hand shaking. “My son was murdered, his body not even in the ground but stolen, lost in time, an’ he tells me the Ancients walk in mystery and that my son’s Fate was written?”
“I canna change what’s written,” MacNeil said seriously and softly. “Ye can blame me fer acceptin’ Fate, but I dinna write his death—nor did I see it. But I have seen her.” He nodded at Brianna, who straightened in surprise.
“’Tis time for ye to clear yer head, Aidan,” MacNeil continued. “’Tis more than time fer ye to listen to yer heart, yer soul, lad. Ye have grieved and raged at us all long enough. ’Tis time fer ye to come back.”
“I will avenge my son,” Aidan said, his eyes blazing.
“And I will vanquish my own deamhan father. Then I go to Awe to live out my life, half in and half out of the deamhan world. To hell with yer damned gods.” He strode from the tent with so much angry force that the tent walls shuddered even though he did not touch them.
Brie whirled in dismay. “Please don’t let him hunt Moray alone! He doesn’t have enough power!”
“He has his Fate as well, Lady Brianna,” MacNeil said.
“Is his Fate hanging?”
MacNeil hesitated. “They’re not lies, Lady Brianna. Yer books speak the truth.”
Brie went still. “Are you referring to my history books?”
“Aye.” He did not smile now. “Aidan may hate the gods but they dinna hate him, in spite of all he has done. I have seen ye comin’ to save our poor Aidan. Dinna give up now.”
“You just said my history books are right. If that’s the case, he will hang! So how can I save him?”
He touched her and his power flowed through her, at once healing and strengthening, erasing her uncertainty and doubts. “He will only hang if he chooses to die. Lass, yer here fer a great reason.”
Brie cried out, “Is that a riddle? I hate riddles!”
“I dinna have all the answers, lass.” Then he grinned. “Just some of them.”