Page 4 of Dark Embrace

He stared ahead at the village, not bothering to repeat himself.

A moment later, his men were galloping through the thatched cottages, torching the straw roofs, which instantly became infernos. Men, women and children fled their burning homes, crying in fright, and his men chased them down, one after one, swiftly ending each life with one thrust of a blade. Screams of terror filled the night. Aidan sat his restless mount, not allowing it to move. He knew his face was wet, but he refused to wipe the tears. He kept Ian’s image close in his mind until the night was silent, except for the hissing of flames and a single woman’s sobs.

Her weeping abruptly ended.

His men filed past him, no one looking at him now.

When he was alone, he choked and slid from the mount. He began vomiting helplessly and uncontrollably in the snow.

When he was done, he stayed there, breathing hard. The screams echoed in his mind. He kept reminding himself that at least he had saved Ian. And he knew he would never forget what he had just witnessed, what he had just done.

He heard a movement behind him.

Aidan slowly got up and turned.

A woman stood by some trees, weeping soundlessly, clutching the hand of a small, terrified child. She was staring at him. His heart lurched in absolute dread. He unsheathed his sword and started toward them.

She didn’t run. She hugged her child and shrank against the huge fir tree, eyes wide. “Why, my lord? Why?”

The hilt of his sword was sticky in his hand. He meant to raise it. He said hoarsely, “Run. Run now.”

She and the child fled into the woods.

He tossed the sword at the ground and leaned his face on his arms, against the tree. Ian…he had to free Ian from Moray.

And then he felt the shocking, evil presence behind him. Tensing, Aidan whirled. Moray stood there, Ian in his grasp. He saw the blade Moray held flash silver.

“Give me my son!”

Ian made an odd, strangled sound.

Horrified, Aidan saw the dagger embedded in Ian’s chest. “No!”

Moray smiled—and Ian’s eyes rolled back in his head lifelessly. Aidan screamed, rushing forward as Ian became limp. But when he reached them, they were gone.

For one instant, Aidan stood in shock and disbelief. Moray had murdered Ian.

Anguish began, and with it, more rage than he had ever felt. He howled, holding his head, and furiously, he leapt back in time. He would not let Ian die.

He returned to that moment at Awe when he had found Ian in the great hall with his steward, but once again he had no power, and no one could see or hear him. He tried to assault Moray, but an invisible wall came between them and the past repeated itself, exactly. This time, he was a sick spectator as his younger self sat on his steed and watched his men destroying an entire innocent village.

And this time, when he saw himself discover the woman and child, he rushed forward. “Do it,” he shouted at his younger self. “You must do it!’

But the man he had been a moment ago did not lift his sword. “Run. Run now!”

The woman and child fled into the forest. He watched as his younger self turned to face Moray, who held Ian tightly to his chest.

And that huge, unnatural force began pulling him inexorably toward the trio. Aidan screamed in warning at Ian, at himself, but no one heard him. He saw the silver dagger flash.

The anguish was even greater now, but so was the rage.

He fell to his knees, howling and maddened, and then he leapt back in time again.

And again.

And again.

And each and every time, it was the same. An entire village destroyed by his command, one small woman and child fleeing and Moray still murdering Ian before his very eyes, only to vanish with his dead child.