Page 125 of Dark Seduction

She heard the bench scraping the floor and she stiffened, turning.

Ironheart approached.

With a nod from Malcolm, they went into his privy chamber, closing the door. Claire walked to the other side of the small room, then faced him. Now she recognized the red glints in his hair. She was a natural redhead, but her hair was a dark and deep auburn, and so were the streaks in his hair. And she recognized his eyes. They were a vivid spring green, like hers.

He seemed uneasy and it was startling. “Ye have questions. I heard ye an’ I came.”

“You lurked?” She was instantly displeased.

“Nay, Claire. Ye’ve been summonin’ me even if ye didna ken.”

“When did you realize I’m your daughter? And why didn’t you tell me? Surely you haven’t known my entire life!”

He jerked. “I had no idea! Do ye think I’d abandon the mother o’ my daughter that way? I have no other children, Claire.”

Claire stared. “How is it possible? You’ve lived for hundreds of years.”

“I stand alone, Claire, an’ I’ll die alone. I made vows.”

That was tragic and heroic. His life was the Brotherhood. “I was a mistake.”

He hesitated. “Aye.”

Claire already felt rejected. She shook her head, incapable of speech, even though she wanted to know more about him and her mother. But what more was there to know? Mom had said it was a single night of passion.

His hand settled on her shoulder. “Yer a miracle, Claire,” he said harshly. “I never dreamed to have a child, an’ here I have a grown daughter, fearless, clever and beautiful.”

She whirled, stunned.

Moisture had gathered in his eyes. “Ye look like yer mother,” he said, turning away.

Claire knew he had lost his composure and she thought he had probably not done so in hundreds of years, if ever. “You cared about her?”

He tensed. “Aye. I was in yer time, huntin’. I had followed a Deamhan there. Yer mother was on the street, struggling to carry a heavy box upstairs to her apartment. She was ‘moving in,’ as she called it. Men were passing by, looking at her because she was so pleasing t’ the eye, but no one was helping her. Not only was she beautiful, she was wearing the shortest skirt I’d ever seen. I didna think twice. I took the box from her, and she was offerin’ me coffee.” He smiled. “Suddenly, I was moving a hundred boxes—and yer mother was makin’ me smile. Did ye ken she had a clever wit?”

“Mom liked to joke,” Claire whispered. The story was beautiful.

“I had a Deamhan to chase. Instead, I helped yer mother open boxes an’ then I was tryin’ to fix her lights.” He looked as if he might laugh. “I ken nothin’ about electricity, Claire. Yer mother thought me a fool.”

Claire actually smiled. “I doubt it.”

His smile faded. “I wanted her. She wanted me. One night wasn’t enough.”

Claire stared. “How many nights were there?”

“Seven.”

Her mother had lied. “Did you love her?”

He flushed. “I didna ken. I have one mistress, Claire. My vows.” He sobered. “I told her after the first night that I had taken sacred vows, vows she wouldna ken, vows that required me to leave her. I didna lie. I made no promises, an’ the leaving was sad.” He paced across the room restlessly. “She didna weep. I gave her my stone, to keep her safe.” He met her gaze. “When I saw ye wearin’ the stone, for one moment, I thought ye were Jan. ’Twas a trick o’ my mind. And then I felt the truth.”

Claire wondered how much her mother had really known about her lover. “She loved you,” Claire said thickly. “She never said so. She didn’t have to. And she never took the stone off.”

“Can ye forgive me, Claire, fer not protectin’ ye both?”

“Of course I can,” Claire said. “You didn’t know.”

A moment passed. “What will ye do now? Ye love Malcolm, but he’s a Master. He be displeased t’ night an’ saddened deeply.”