CHAPTER FOURTEEN #2
Claire’s green eyes widened. “Brie, this is 1502. We do not refuse our king. I know you’re worried about Aidan hanging, but the refusal of royal will can also be labeled treason.”
“But Aidan is already a traitor,” Brie said. “He’s fought Frasier and the royal armies. He has to stay far from Urquhart!”
Claire took her arm. “I’m the last person to tell you to simply accept this. Do what you feel you have to do. I’ll help, and so will Malcolm.”
Brie stared at her. In that moment, she had the feeling that Claire really believed that Aidan was meant to hang and that she could not change his fate. She hugged herself uneasily.
Lust for power flooded her.
Brie gasped as the shocking lust swept through her body, swelling it, arousing it impossibly. The power began to course through her veins, giving her impossible strength, and she was savagely elated. She cried out, stunned by the bestial euphoria, the sense of near invincibility.
Someone held her up.
Brie closed her eyes, unable to detach herself from the power roaring in her veins, the urge to use her power to destroy Moray blinding and frenzied. She could destroy him now, for nothing and no one could stop her.
“Brie, what is it?” Allie cried.
Aidan was in the throes of taking power, Brie managed to think. She opened her eyes. Royce held her upright, but Allie, Tabby and Claire encircled her, and Allie held her hand tightly.
“It’s Aidan,” she said, and her stomach lurched, making her feel sick. He had so much power he could easily break down his own castle walls.
“Let me go,” she gasped, suddenly enraged.
She staggered through the hall and to the stairway. More power swept through her and she crashed into the wall. The power blinded her this time and she stood still, as wave after wave of power and rapture hit her, stars exploding everywhere. But he still wanted more….
She fought through the thick, sexual waves, the spinning frenzy, the hot, wet euphoria, as if swimming upstream. She reached the landing, breathing hard, and an even greater wave smashed into her, power and rapture becoming one. She fell this time, and wept in ecstasy.
Brie lay on the stone floor, sobbing in pleasure, the power endless now, streaming through her. And then the rapture faded, leaving nothing but the sense of absolute and savage euphoria.
She lay very still. Had Aidan become invincible? Or did he simply think himself invincible?
Booted steps sounded.
Brie looked up and saw Aidan emerging from the chamber. His glittering gaze swept her and he faltered.
Brie pushed to sit up, and their gazes locked.
She reminded herself that he needed power if he was ever going to survive and defeat Moray. She said softly, “How could you?”
“Ye should be on Iona,” he snarled.
Brie shook her head, distraught. “Is anyone alive?” And she knew it was an accusation.
He flushed. “They’re all alive,” he said, his tone low and dangerous. “I’m half deamhan, remember?”
“I think I hate you,” she whispered.
He strode past her.
Brie began to cry. She stumbled to her feet and to the doorway. Shocked, she stared at the three women lying unmoving on the bed. They were fully dressed. No one had a garment askew or hair astray. The bed was perfectly made up.
She opened her mind to the room and the women. The women were alive. The room felt still, clean and oddly chaste.
Brie gasped, shuddered and reached for the door, holding herself upright.
She was beyond exhaustion and, unlike Aidan, she wasn’t filled with power.
Sharing the experience of taking so much life made her feel shaky and weak.
She felt sick. She was not certain of what had happened in this room.
It almost felt as if he had taken power without touching or using anyone.
But why would he do that?
He saved you, protected you, healed you and made love to you.
Brie reminded herself that Aidan didn’t love her—not at all. He could not have rejected her that morning so callously if he did.
“I’ll heal them,” Allie said.
Brie saw Allie standing on the threshold with Royce, their expressions grim.
She crossed her arms, wanting to defend Aidan, as Allie went to the women to heal them.
Her hands on one, Allie glanced at Brie.
“He didn’t have sex.” She gave Brie an I-told-you-so look and focused on the blonde she was healing.
Brie found a chair. She had never been more relieved. So much for refocusing and being a pro. She was still in love. And what the hell did Aidan’s behavior mean?
“Ah, lass, he’s fond of ye,” Royce said.
She looked at him.
“I canna lurk on Aidan, he blocks me. But I dinna have to. ’Tis evident.”
She was afraid to believe it, especially after being so hurt by him that morning. “Does he have enough power to destroy Moray?”
“I dinna ken.”
“Where is he?” But even as she spoke, her senses flew to Aidan’s, and she realized he was nearby. She felt his savage, predatory intention.
“He’s in the tower, where he hunts.”
He was safe for now, she thought. “And when he finds Moray? Can you please go with him? He needs backup. I don’t care how powerful he has become.”
Royce nodded and walked out. The other women had gotten up and were leaving, looking no worse for wear. Allie came to stand beside Brie. “Are you okay?”
Brie hesitated. “I don’t ever want to feel that kind of lust again.”
Allie gave her a look. “I can’t imagine what the lust for life feels like, but…La Puissance is pretty darned amazing.”
Brie was pretty sure she knew what Allie referred to. She felt herself blush. “Do you mean the rapture that comes from so much power?”
She nodded and grinned guiltily. “It’s all forbidden.
Masters do not take power unless they’re in mortal danger, and usually they don’t need to—they’re so superstrong that they can fight anything.
But we dabbled in it. Royce was desperate for my healing power and boy, with sex factored in, what a rush! ”
“I was fine with the good, old-fashioned version,” Brie said tersely. She did not want to recall last night.
“They say it can be addictive, like a drug. It’s why once a Master falls, he usually turns all the way. They start lusting for that power and that rapture…” Allie shrugged.
Brie wondered where that would leave Aidan, if he ever was redeemed.
Allie touched her. “He leaves his victims alive. But he may always fight the urge to take power, the lust for it.”
“I’ll worry about that later,” Brie said tersely.
“Good idea. Tabby’s setting up for the séance.”
“Right now?” The summons to Urquhart was hanging over their heads, no matter how resolved Brie was to stop Aidan from heeding it.
Allie nodded. “I don’t think we should delay. Royce and I have discussed it with Malcolm and Claire. We think you’re right. Aidan needs to speak with his son. We think it could set him free and bring him back to us.”
He’ll die if he chooses to die. Brie hugged her hard, recalling MacNeil’s cryptic words. “Let’s pray first,” she said.
brIE PUSHED OPEN THE DOOR TO Aidan’s bedroom and slipped inside. Tabby had asked for an item of Aidan’s for the séance, and Brie had given her the black plaid she’d been wearing. She was tired of being so swaddled up, anyway. Tabby had also asked her to find something of Ian’s.
She had never been in Aidan’s chamber before. The air within was charged with his testosterone and his authority. She closed the door behind her and glanced carefully around.
The room was barren and cold. Pillar candles were on the mantel, but nothing else.
She glanced at the bedroom’s only table.
A pitcher was there and a single mug. One chair was beside it, without upholstery or even a pillow.
It did not look comfortable. She looked at the bed, with only two pillows, blankets and a fur throw.
His bedchamber was not a personal retreat; it was neither warm nor welcoming.
It was as bleak as the rest of his life.
Why couldn’t he let her love him?
Brie turned. The only other piece of furniture inside was a handsome, scarred and iron-bound chest at the foot of the bed. Brie went to it and opened it. She saw a folded black plaid, and she removed it. Her eyes widened.
What on earth?
Brie removed a very expensive, very modern man’s black leather jacket with a Gucci label. It was a man’s—it was worn—it was Aidan’s.
She felt him all over the leather and thought of him as she’d first met him, when he had not been tormented and dark.
He’d been in his medieval Highland garb that day, but it didn’t matter.
He’d been protective of her, kind to and caring of Allie and he’d flirted lightly with Sam.
She knew he’d worn this jacket then, before Ian’s murder, when he’d walked in the light of the gods, when he’d been carefree and happy, a man with friends, family, a clan.
She realized she was hugging the soft, sensuous leather.
That had been long ago. Even though she was determined to see him in it again, she set the jacket aside. She rummaged through the chest and finally found a pair of very tiny baby shoes. They were pointy and embroidered, and must have been worn by Ian when he was a toddler.
Tabby, Allie and Claire were waiting for her in her bedchamber.
All the castle rooms were dark, due to the lack of any kind of modern lighting and the small or glazed glass windows, but it was ablaze with candles and filled with heady, exotic fragrances.
Brie thought she smelled vanilla and lilies amongst the brew.
Tabby had used chalk or something like it to draw odd symbols on the stone floor, including the large circle where the women were already sitting.
She had strewn petals and herbs about the pattern, which Brie didn’t recognize.
A jagged line went through the circle but it was not connected, although it was obvious it should be.