Page 119 of Dark Seduction

“Claire,” he murmured seductively.

She felt his hand slither over her back. In her mind, he impaled her and she wept in pleasure.

Claire leaped.

It was a leap a tiger might make. But Claire’s legs sprang with shocking power and she burst through the small stone window and into the damp, cold air outside.

Time stood still. As she was launched into the sky, she looked down at the trees far below, and she knew she was about to die.

“Claire!” Moray snarled in fury.

And time returned and she fell.

The trees rushed up at her. She fell with the force of gravity, faster and faster, and she knew she was dead. She was only sorry that Moray lived—and that she could not tell Malcolm how much she loved him.

Suddenly pine needles and wood branches tore at her. Claire cried out with pain as she fell through branches, wood snapping. Pine abraded her face, her flesh. She landed hard on a bed of pine needles and dirt.

Stars exploded. The sky turned black. And then it cleared and she saw fingers of gray daylight streaking through the thick forest canopy above her head.

In shock, she realized she wasn’t dead at all.

She should have died on impact, her body broken. Claire lay still, panting, waiting to be consumed with pain. Agony did not begin.

She was alive.

In fact, she didn’t seem to be even close to death.

She sat up, reaching for her necklace, but of course it was gone. The stone hadn’t saved her.

Moray would hunt her now.

Claire crouched, amazed that nothing hurt—but then, she was the daughter of a Master. However, she wasn’t a Master. Masters had to be summoned and take vows, and not every child born to them was chosen. MacNeil had told her that. She hadn’t asked, but in the patriarchal Brotherhood, she bet there were no women Masters. Still, she had some powers, oh, yes, and she’d use them now.

A chill fell over the wood.

The hunt had begun.

Claire started to run down the steep, forested hillside.

MALCOLM STOOD on the other side of the loch across from the palace, alone in a field. His eyes were closed, his face turned up to the morning sun, and sweat poured down his body. He strained to sense Claire.

He wasn’t sure he had the power to do so. Moray had taken her and they could be any place, in any time.

Moray wanted to use her against him. His various strongholds were impregnable, guarded by his Deamhan hordes. Malcolm thought it likely that Claire remained in Scotland, even in the Highlands, and in this time.

No matter where she had been taken, he had to locate her.

He strained to sense her. Time passed and he remained acutely attentive.

Claire! Where are you?

But there was only silence.

CLAIRE HAD REACHED low ground and she froze. The forest ended in rolling, grassy hills, and she could hear horses and men shouting. They were looking for her.

She had been praying to Faola and the other great gods, including Lug and Daghda, incessantly. She was almost certain her only chance of surviving Moray was with the grace of the Ancients. Now she crouched low as the first troops appeared on the hillside.

Claire didn’t move as the riders galloped toward her, but she prayed harder, sweat covering her entire body.