Page 132 of Dark Seduction

He slid his hand down her arm, causing a delicious thrill of pleasure to begin, smiling with anticipation. “Fourteen hundred an’ twenty.”

Claire cried out. She had leaped too far back in time. He was only twenty years old—he hadn’t been summoned by the Brotherhood yet. She stood, stepping away from him. “Damn it, Faola,” she cried. “Not fair! Not fair at all!”

He released her. “Are ye mad?” he asked, puzzled.

Claire seized the duffel and focused hard. She was going to leap forward now into 1427, anytime after August 3, the day she’d been abducted, the day they’d killed Moray. She quickly reprised her plans. August 10, 1427 was a good, solid, safe date.

Just as she vanished, she saw Malcolm’s shock and anger. This time the agony was unbearable. When she landed she was crying. Leaping twice hurt so badly she felt stretched out on the rack. Her entire body felt as if it was coming apart and as if screws were being driven into her bones to splinter them into shards. And then she felt Malcolm’s powerful presence as he knelt besides her. “Claire!”

She opened her eyes and saw his shocked expression—and then she saw the relief flooding his eyes. “Malcolm?”

“Dinna speak. Yer hurt.” He swept her into his arms and cradled her gently against his chest. His heart thundered there. His mouth pressed against her hair and scalp.

She had made it. She relished the feel of his power, his strength, his life, and she thought she could feel an odd joining coming from her to him and him to her. A union of souls, she thought.

Silently, Claire thanked the Ancients and Faola for everything. “What year—what month—is this?”

“’Tis two weeks since ye left me, Claire,” he said roughly.

Claire realized she had a bit of practicing to do if she was ever going to leap time again by herself. She’d been off by nine days. She didn’t care. Malcolm’s gray eyes were moist with tears.

He gazed down at her. “Are ye here to stay? Will ye leave me again?” he demanded harshly.

“No. I am here to stay.” She caressed his hard, beautiful jaw.

He made a harsh sound, holding her again, more tightly this time, his cheek pressed to hers. Joy flowed. This was right.

He smiled at her. “Ye came back. Ah, Claire, ’twas only a few days but I didna think ye’d come back t’ me.”

She sat up, feeling infinitely better. “We are stronger together, Malcolm. I know it, and Faola knows it, too.”

“Aye,” he said softly. “Claire, we be written in the Cathach, by name.”

Claire gasped. “Are you kidding?”

He smiled at her. “Buried in the hundreds of pages, there be a verse about us. Aye, Calum Leomhain an’ his lady, Claire, victors o’ evil.”

This was fate. She moved closer into his arms, overcome. His mouth feathered her hair. So much need began, but only half of it was physical. They had a future to plan. Claire took a deep breath and looked up. “I missed you so much.”

“Aye, lass, an’ I missed you very much, too.” He smiled.

She caressed his cheek and asked somewhat playfully, “How much?”

“Do ye wish fer a show?” he murmured as playfully.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I want a big, splendid, prolonged show!”

He swept her into his arms and stood, chuckling. That was when Claire saw they had an audience. She had interrupted the evening meal. Brogan called out to her, waving, and Royce smiled at her, clearly bearing no grudges or ill will.

But there was one thing Claire had to know. “Wait!”

“I canna wait,” he said in his most seductive and sexy tone. “I be a man starvin’ fer his woman.”

“It was only two weeks!” she said happily. He let her go and she slipped to her feet and ran to the duffel. She pulled out the laptop as Malcolm knelt besides her. “This is a long shot. But shit, if we can travel through time, why can’t bytes?”

“I dinna ken,” he said seriously. He touched her hair. “But this be important t’ ye.”

“If this works, it will be great,” Claire said. His brows lifted. Claire shrugged, and having powered on, she hit the Internet button. After an interminable moment, the Microsoft Internet Explorer page came on. Her default page was www.weatherchannel.com, but it did not appear. “Oh, well,” Claire said. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was the future they would share—all six hundred years of it—at least.

“Aye,” he said, lifting her to her feet and pulling her against his big, hard body. “This be what matters, ye an’ me. I love ye, Claire, an’ I want ye t’ be my wife.”

Claire threw her arms around him. “I think you know my answer.”

“Ye dinna like it when I lurk,” he protested with mock innocence. And he laughed, because they both knew he was reading her mind and neither one cared.

He tugged her toward the stairs.

Claire’s skin tightened and thrummed. With the promise of so much pleasure—and so much love—she didn’t look back.

Her laptop whirred.

The weather in New York City on August 19, 2007, at 11:15 a.m., was sunny with a few clouds and a torrid 101 degrees.