Page 82 of Dark Seduction

“There be nothin’ to think on!” Royce was furious. “Ye either wish to find her dead one day or ye wish fer her to live. Make yer choice.”

Malcolm stared, sickened. There was no choice to make. Because of the dark beast that lurked inside him, and because of Moray, who knew how to unchain that beast, Claire could not stay with him. She had become his Mairead. And like Mairead, there was only one safe place for her to go—the cloister.

“No Deamhan ever knowingly enters a holy place. I will take her to Iona.” Malcolm said, and then he gave in, his anger erupting, and flung his arm out, knocking a beautiful chair onto its side, the arms breaking. His heart did not want her gone.

“She’ll be safe there,” Royce agreed. “But I will take her. It’s late now, I’ll take her t’morrow. We’ll leave at dawn.”

Malcolm turned, his heart thundering. “Ye dinna give the commands here, Royce,” he warned. “I be yer liege an’ lord.”

“Aye, when yer not blinded by lust an’ love.” Royce stalked out of the hall.

More anger exploded. He leaned over another chair, breathing hard. The cloister would be safe for Claire. His mother was safe there and willingly wished to remain there until she died. Even Moray would not dare enter the sacred site. But Claire would not want to stay in the abbey for very long. In fact, he felt certain she wasn’t going to wish to go there at all.

She was going to be furious, he thought. But he was lord and he was not going to give her a choice. He straightened and kicked a red-and-ivory damask chair halfway across the room.

Aidan strode into the hall. “If ye wish to break something, go into the woods, but leave my fine home alone!”

Malcolm looked at him. Unfortunately, this man was his half brother. Last night, he had tried to heal him. “How is Claire?”

“She be fast asleep. I wonder why.”

Malcolm tensed.

Aidan’s expression was closed, showing no emotion at all. “I didna heal ye. Moray put some spell on ye an’ I was blocked.” His eyes became hard. “Claire staunched the bleedin’ with her hands. Claire breathed into ye an’ gave ye back yer breath. She prayed to the Ancients fer yer life.”

Malcolm knew what was coming next.

“An’ then ye tried to take her life,” Aidan said, his temples throbbing. “An’ ye hate me fer being the devil’s own?”

Malcolm flinched. “I hate meself more.”

“Ye should.” Aidan paused. “Claire can stay here.”

Fury began. “I dinna share, Aidan. She goes to Iona.”

“I have no wish to bed her,” Aidan said firmly. “She deserves the chance to live.”

“I take her to Iona at dawn,” Malcolm said softly, enraged. He knew his brother would never be able to resist Claire’s allure. “Ye touch her an’ ye die.”

“Yer a dolt,” Aidan said, striding past him. He picked up the broken chair. “Ye owe me a fine chair from France. Louis XIV, it’s called.”

Malcolm turned away. He couldn’t find calm and he had to face why. His heart actually hurt, aching inside of his chest. Tomorrow he would take Claire to Iona. And then what? Moray could not be destroyed. Claire would have to spend years there, until she was forgotten. She would be furious at first, and then she would be miserable. He already felt miserable.

Aidan said quietly, “She’s no Mairead.”

Malcolm whirled. “Ye spy on me thoughts?”

“I dinna have to spy. Yer broken heart is screaming loud an’ clear.”

“My heart nay be broken.” He smiled for emphasis.

But Aidan was deadly serious. “Malcolm, leave yer hatred o’me fer one moment. MacNeil didna heal Claire in the tower.”

Malcolm stared. “What does that mean?”

“He told me that when he began to heal her, she was already healing herself.”

Malcolm remained calm. “The stone?”