Page 116 of Dark Seduction

Malcolm’s expression turned stoic, impossible to read. He went to the door, where a household guard stood. She tensed as the two exchanged words in Gaelic. Then the guard left, but she did not relax. “What is it?”

Malcolm went to her and touched her hair. “Dinna worry, but the queen has summoned me.”

It took Claire one moment to become enraged and horrified. “She’s summoning you in the middle of the night? For what purpose?” she cried. Before Malcolm could answer, she said, “Oh, let me guess! She’s done with Royce and she wants to try you out in her bed!”

“Claire, we dinna ken what she wishes. But I canna refuse her summons.”

And he couldn’t refuse an invitation for sex, either, could he? “Where the hell is the king?”

“Dinna fret so. James be an early riser an’ it’s almost dawn. She willna be takin’ a lover at this hour.” And then he shocked her by pulling her close and kissing her lightly on the cheek, the way a suburban husband might before his daily commute.

Claire wasn’t reassured. She watched him go, hating her helplessness and the tyranny of the king and queen. In that one moment she had never appreciated the freedom of an open, democratic society more.

She tried to remind herself that she didn’t know what the queen really wanted. But damn it, if her suspicions were right, Malcolm would have to pleasure the queen when he belonged to her.

Claire shivered. The last thing they needed was for Malcolm to get on the queen’s sexual radar. She pulled her brat closer to her body, wondering if they’d left the shutters open. But a quick glance showed her that Malcolm had closed the shutter.

The chamber became frigidly cold.

Comprehension began. Claire turned slowly, horror rising.

And the earl of Moray smiled at her, exactly as he had a few hours ago in her dream. “I said I would come back for you,” he murmured.

Terror overcame her and she could barely think.

The Deamhan opened the closet door and held out his hand. Terrified, the child took it, and he pulled her into the light and she saw his face.

Claire cried out. “It was you!”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

MALCOLM STRODE toward the queen’s hall, passing only a handful of solemn noblemen and taciturn royal soldiers as he did so. It was still early, the sun straining to rise, the sky outside only just blushing. Undoubtedly the revelry had gone on to the midnight hour last night.

He did not know what the queen wished and he was afraid the summons had something to do with Royce. As he could not deny the extent of his worry for Aidan now, he felt sorely pressed. But he had been given permission to leave when he had been released. The sooner he got Claire away from the palace, the better.

And then he saw Royce emerging from the queen’s hall, two guards closing the door behind him and standing in front of it. Royce saw him, as well, and appeared as surprised as Malcolm felt.

“What are ye doing here?” Royce asked.

Malcolm gave him a cursory glance and decided he was in one piece. “I was summoned. I thought surely ye had annoyed Her Highness.”

Royce smiled. “She be well pleased and is sleeping deeply. I doubt she’ll rise before noon.”

Malcolm started. “I was summoned by the queen.”

Royce’s smile vanished. “Malcolm, I just left her. Her orders were that no one disturbs her till she rises.”

And Malcolm realized the summons had been a trap. “Claire!” He turned and ran down the hall, Royce behind him. He rushed up two sets of stairs. The door to his chamber was closed but he knew before opening it that she was not here. As he flung it aside, he felt the terrible chill within.

Moray had taken her.

CLAIRE AWOKE.

She lay on cold, uncomfortable stone. It took her a moment to orient herself. She blinked, realizing she was in a round tower and, from the look of the gray sky outside, high above the surrounding land. She recalled Moray walking into her chamber at the palace with his frightening smile, and then there was only darkness.

Claire clawed the stone. She remembered everything about the night of her mother’s murder now.

Moray had been the demon who had drifted into their Brooklyn home that night. He had been the demon who had opened the closet door and taken her hand—and told her he would return for her.