Page 26 of Dark Seduction

He nodded. “If I didna trust ye, I’d never tell ye the truth.”

She couldn’t imagine why he would trust her, an absolute stranger. He added, “But ye’ll come to the mass with me, Claire.”

“Of course I will. I’m not a fool—I have no problem playing along with orthodoxy until I go home.”

His gaze flickered oddly and he walked away from her.

“How many of you are there?” she asked grimly. The ramifications of his beliefs kept growing. A man who had extraordinary powers could be accused of witchcraft, sorcery, association with the devil. Thank God the great witch hunts were in the next century, not this one. “Can Black Royce travel through time? Is he one of you? Does he believe this power comes from the Ancients, too? And how have you kept yourselves secret?”

A cool smile flashed. “Why do ye care about Royce’s powers?”

“He’s different, like you,” Claire said firmly.

“Nay.” He turned away from her, his stance stiff and braced. “Royce be the earl of Morvern, nothin’ more.”

Claire hesitated, very aware that Malcolm was closing the discussion now. But they were treading upon dangerous and probably forbidden territory. His beliefs—and his ability to travel through time—were undoubtedly a very secret subject. But she was beyond certain that Royce had Malcolm’s abilities, and probably his beliefs, too. She slowly walked up behind him. When he turned, she was aware that only an inch separated them, and that she should not use any feminine wiles to get the answers she wanted. She slowly laid her hand on his chest.

A huge jolt of desire stabbed her as her palm smoothed the linen shirt flat against his hard muscle. “Tell me. Finish it. You’ve already told me a terrible secret, one that threatens your life, so tell me the rest.”

His smile was twisted. “Dinna play me, Claire.” But his eyes blazed and not just with anger. Claire recognized lust.

“Why not?” Touching him was making her feel weak and faint. “You’ve played me from the start.”

“Then ye play with yer life.”

In spite of the pulse now throbbing against the silk of her thong, she felt more chills. “No. I trust you, too.” Oddly, she realized she did. “How many of you can time travel? And why do you do it? Do you belong to some kind of religious order, a secret society?” But she knew the answer.

His stare hardened and his hand covered hers, pressing her palm even more firmly to his chest. “Ye ask too many questions. Ye dinna need so many answers.”

“Not fair! You brought me here—I do need to know,” she cried. And she did what would have been unthinkable in New York City—she slid her hand into the slit neckline of his leine, her fingers brushing a heavy cross and chain and then settling against his hot skin.

His smile was tight. “Fire, lass,” he warned.

Something bumped her hip. Claire tried to breathe. “You said you trust me. You brought me here. I’m a historian, Malcolm, a scholar. That’s why I know so much about your time. Please. I have to know.” She looked at him imploringly.

He breathed hard. “The Masters are sworn to defend God an’ the Ancients, keep Faith, an’ guard the Books.”

She gasped, trembling with the excitement of discovery.

“We are sworn to protect ye, Claire, an’ all like ye. Protect Innocence. ’Tis the holiest of the vows after the vows we make to God.”

She could not look away. “I knew it. You’re not the first knight to belong to a secret order with heretical beliefs. Will you tell me the name of the order?”

His smile was like a snarl. “There be no name.” And he jerked away from her, his leine bulging over his stiff manhood.

She could not retreat now. “What are you defending God from? What are you defending the Ancients from? What are you defending the Books and people like me from?”

He whirled. “Evil.”

Chills broke out all over Claire’s body.

“What be wrong, Claire? Ye look frightened. Or have ye asked too many questions fer that pretty little head?” He was cool, mocking and furious.

She swallowed. “I don’t care how condescending you are. Yes, you have frightened me. We both know there is evil in the world. You just made it sound…organized.”

His stare intensified, making her want to squirm. “Do ye nay believe in the devil, lass?”

And Claire thought about her mother. She stared at the back of the frayed tweed sofa as she hid behind it, trembling with fear, wishing her mother would come home. A shadow drifted into the room…