Page 50 of Dark Seduction

She stared grimly at him. “Lucky me.”

“Ye have Malcolm to protect ye. He willna fail, lass.”

She began to tremble. “Why? Why am I here, MacNeil? Little old human, scholarly, cowardly Claire!”

“Ye have yearned to be here fer years,” he returned. “Ye have yearned to meet Malcolm. Why do ye complain?”

“That is not an answer!” she cried. “And how do you know this? Why was I expected? Damn it, what do the Ancients want of me?” And she realized she considered her journey through time to be fate.

“I have the gift o’ sight at times, but I dinna ken what the Ancients intend fer ye. They have nay let me see.” He stared intently at her. “My suggestion be this. Dinna fight yer fate.”

She stared. “Is Malcolm my fate?”

“I canna answer ye.”

“Like hell!” she cried, fists clenched. “You can’t—or you won’t?”

His face hardened, and in that instant, there was nothing pleasing or reassuring about him. “I willna.”

Claire retreated. He could be affable, even flirtatious, but now, there was no mistaking he was a powerful, authoritative man. Like Malcolm, he was a Highland laird—and on Iona, he was a virtual king. “Gotcha,” she said.

His face eased slightly.

Claire bit her lip. She wanted to know if she would make it back home and if Amy, John and their kids would live long, healthy lives.

“Ye will return, lass,” he said softly. “I be allowed to tell ye that much.”

Claire had expected to be thrilled. Instead, she was dismayed. Her stare wandered across the gardens to Malcolm, whose gaze was riveted upon them. Her heart lurched. One day, she would leave him.

She swallowed. “Can you please tell me about my family?”

“If I tell ye yer cousin doesna need ye, will ye believe me?”

Claire hesitated. Could she really trust this man’s interpretation of the future when it came to Amy and the kids? It hit her then that Amy had to be told everything. She might know that evil wasn’t as random as it seemed, but she couldn’t possibly know about inhuman demons, could she?

Or could she?

If the war between good and evil had gone on since time began; if cults existed like this Brotherhood to fight it; if she, Claire Camden, had uncovered the truth; then damn it all, others had to know, too.

“When will ye ask me what ye really wish to?” MacNeil said softly.

Claire became rigid and her gaze flew to his. Then she glanced at Malcolm. Suddenly, she felt as if Malcolm was listening to their every word, but that was impossible. She was sure that he was listening to her every thought, though.

But there was no avoiding the most frightening subject of all. It was hard to get the words out because she dreaded MacNeil’s answer. Her voice was hoarse when she spoke. “He is supposed to protect the Innocent, but he killed an innocent woman during sex. Was it an accident?”

“Aye.”

“Then explain it to me,” she cried softly. “Because it sounds like a crime of pleasure!”

“He was seduced into the crime by Moray.”

Claire felt all the blood drain from her face.

“Evil always hunts the young Masters, those who dinna ken their powers well. Moray wanted Malcolm to take pleasure in death—and then wish to take such pleasure again. He wanted Malcolm to turn demon, Claire.”

“Oh, my God,” Claire whispered. “He wanted Malcolm’s soul.”

“Aye. Moray lured Malcolm to Urquhart, battled him there an’ left him dyin’. Then he sent a beautiful maid to him—to tempt him to evil.”