Page 102 of Dark Seduction

Royce shook his head, clearly not convinced or impressed. “I expect ye to stand true to the Code and God. Ye need to start praying, and not just to Christ. The old gods will awaken an’ listen if ye mean it.”

This was a subject he could manage. “I’ve already started praying,” Malcolm said. “I’ve prayed fer strength in my soul to control what I dearly want to unleash.”

“Ye have controlled the evil. Ye won. Ye beat Moray. It will get easier in time. And Moray will hunt another.”

“In how much time?” Malcolm exclaimed. “How long does it take to find control, real control o’ the dark?”

“Yer too young,” Royce said, shaking his head. “An’ no leap can change yer real age. The control comes with time. All young Masters want Le Puissance. Ye’ll grow stronger, it will be easier to ferget it. Ye need to avoid Claire. Take a different wench to bed, a woman who willna tempt ye to stray.”

Malcolm shook his head. “I dinna wish to bed another maid! I wish to bed Claire! You’re over eight hundred years old! I’m twenty-seven! I canna wait eight centuries to love Claire properly.” The moment he realized his choice of words, he felt his cheeks heat. He did not want to love Claire, ever—he merely wished to pleasure her.

Royce sighed. “I meant what I said earlier. Ye need to stay away from her, not others, as she is yer temptation. I am pleased ye left her at Awe.”

“I dinna ken how long I can stay away from her.”

“Ye fight yer lust. Ye fight it like ye fight Moray. The lust is Moray,” Royce flashed. “An when ye ken that truth, ye’ll win.”

Royce was wrong. The lust was evil only when it became a raging beast that wished for more power than any man or Master should ever claim. Because briefly, when Claire had been recovering from Sibylla’s attack, there had been desire that had nothing to do with evil. There had been desire that had come from the heart. “Ruari, have you ever felt a woman’s soul?”

Royce was surprised. “What in God’s name are ye speakin’ of?”

Malcolm felt himself blush, and avoided his uncle’s penetrating gaze. “Never ye mind.”

Royce clasped his shoulder. “When I said pray to the Ancients, I meant it. ’Tis a god who will give ye the power to stay holy, Malcolm.”

Royce was right. He had been steeped in religion from the day of his birth. When Brogan had died on the battlefield, some of his faith had wavered. Maybe it should have strengthened that day, instead. He was glad he had started praying to the Ancients again.

The only problem was that the gods could be capricious.

THE PAIN WAS TERRIBLE. Even though Aidan had given her a potion to withstand it more easily, Claire wept, vaguely aware of being in Aidan’s strong arms. He did not speak as her body tried to explode from the force of leaping time. Every bone felt broken; every limb felt wrenched out of its socket. Even her hair hurt.

But the agony lessened rapidly. Claire became cognizant of the fact that not only were Aidan’s arms around her, she had her face pressed to the wool of his brat, against his chest, which rose and fell softly and steadily.

“Ye be better now?” he asked hoarsely.

She couldn’t quite speak. She took a deep breath, flexing her fingers, wishing he would get up and put some distance between them. She had just become aware of a tension in him she could not help but recognize. It was desire.

Aidan released her, standing. The color was returning to his face.

Claire blinked and met his too-bright, very warm silver gaze. “What…was that?”

His smile was wry. “I only hold a woman when I’m about to bed her, Claire. I canna help it if my body was expectin’ more.”

“Jerk.” She didn’t quite feel capable of standing just yet. She saw that they had landed just outside Linlithgow Palace itself, but inside the outer bailey. She was seated on damp, soft grass. From their elevated position, she could see the small, perfectly blue loch below, where swans drifted, and the dozen riders crossing the bridge that spanned it, heraldic banners waving above them, apparently on their way to the palace. She looked above her and saw guards standing on the highest ramparts of the two towers facing the palace entryway, and then she glanced back, where more guards paced the ramparts between the corner towers. Her heart flipped over hard. Malcolm was inside—and so was Moray. She knew it with every fiber of her being.

Aidan extended his hand.

Still angry for his daring to become aroused by her, she ignored it and stood up. “Father Paul’s potion really helped manage the torment of the leap,” she said. “Do you take it, too?” He hadn’t made a sound.

“I be a man. I dinna need potions fer pain. I suffer the pain.” He shrugged.

“Right, as if a woman could forget how macho you are.”

He seemed amused. “If ye stop thinkin’ about my body, ye’ll stop being so angry. But I don’t think it’s me yer angry with.”

“Like hell. Don’t even begin to think I’m one bit attracted to you. You cannot compare to Malcolm, not in any way.”

He flushed and gestured at the court entrance.