Page 153 of Dark Lover

“No one should live with pain,” Aidan said softly.

Ian shrugged. “It’s not as bad now. Fer a long time, the past felt present, but not anymore.”

Aidan nodded. “I am glad.” He hesitated. “I should go.”

“Wait!” Ian said sharply.

And Ian stood there, suddenly wanting to tell his father that he was sorry and that he understood. The day had come where the pain had to end for them both. “I am sorry,” he heard himself say. “I am so sorry to have blamed you for what wasn’t yer fault.”

“Ye really forgive me?” Aidan’s eyes were wide, incredulous. “I’d do anything fer ye. Yer my firstborn, Ian. I love ye as only a father can love a son.”

Ian nodded and his heart erupted in emotion. He loved this man, too. He always had. He’d never stopped. The anger had made it impossible to feel.

Aidan’s face softened. Too late, Ian realized his father was adept at telepathy, which was as natural to him as breathing. Aidan had read his mind.

And he was glad.

The room suddenly tilted oddly. As gold dust filled the space between them, Aidan smiled. Ian became aware of the power he’d felt earlier—majestic, holy. For one moment, he thought that one of the gods had come back to earth.

But a tall, golden Highlander emerged from the mist, smiling paternally at him. “Hallo, a Ihain.”

Ian tensed. He’d met MacNeil several times, when he’d first been released from captivity, in the months he’d been changing so rapidly from boy to man—before he’d forsaken medieval times for the future. The Abbot of Iona managed the Brotherhood, and some said, had as much wisdom and power as the gods.

“What, no warm welcome?” MacNeil clasped his shoulder. “Ye seem wary, lad.” He faced Aidan. “Hallo.”

Aidan nodded. “Neil.”

His holy power seemed to flow from his hand into Ian’s shoulder and it felt right. “Ye’ve never paid me a visit here, not in twenty-five years.”

“’Twasna time, lad. But ’tis yer time now.” His green eyes twinkled.

He was paraphrasing the god, Ian realized.

“Ye met yer worst enemies, one by one. Ye faced yer worst fears an’ conquered every one. I’m proud of ye, Ian. All the gods are.”

He was shocked. “No one is proud of me,” he said slowly. But his heart thundered. There was hope.

“I’m proud of ye. The Ancients are proud. Yer father, standin’ there before ye, is proud.”

Ian felt tears rise. He turned away so neither man would see. It felt impossible, like a miracle. “Ye mean it.”

“Aye, I do. ’Tis no miracle, either, lad. Ye’ve earned our respect.”

He nodded, incapable of speech.

“Dinna ye wish to ken the cause of my sudden visit?”

He met MacNeil’s amused yet satisfied gaze and his mind raced. “I think I know. Ye mean to lecture me on my having lived out of my time.” Dismay began. He’d made a deal. If the gods wanted him back in 1527, he’d have to go. And he knew Sam wasn’t going to move back in time for him.

His gut clenched. Now was not the time to think of her or the feelings he’d admitted to having that day. But they remained, deep and eternal, a part of him now.

“Ye’ve been granted a dispensation.” MacNeil grinned. “Ye can stay in the future with yer lass.”

Ian was amazed.

“But there’s one condition, of course,” MacNeil said seriously. “I’ve decided it myself.”

Ian couldn’t imagine what strings were attached.