Page 56 of Dark Seduction

But a little help would go a long way.

Claire hadn’t prayed in years. Long ago, she had decided God didn’t really care about her and her problems. But it felt like He might care now.

Her temples throbbed. So did the iron box under her hand, and her mother’s pendant burned her chest. Claire whispered, “Is this why I am here? Am I here to help the Masters somehow? If so, am I supposed to use my mind—my education? Or am I supposed to pick up arms and engage the enemy, the way Malcolm does?”

She inhaled. “I need help. Help me do this. Help me find the strength, the courage, to fight evil. Please keep Amy, John and the kids safe.” She bit her lip, thinking of Malcolm, her heart accelerating. “Please help Malcolm. Help him fight evil—help him stay in Your light.”

The chapel felt as if it were spinning, like a carousel. “Faola. If you are listening, thank you for sending Malcolm to me.” She faltered. Did she believe in the goddess? “Help Malcolm and me. Help us fight evil, help us fight Moray.” She shuddered. Moray was Faola’s son, if all was to be believed. “And if it’s not too much to ask, help me make the right choices. I want to help Malcolm, not hurt him.”

She had one more request. “A little superpower would be appreciated.” She grimaced. “Amen.”

Claire stared at the reliquary, which was as blurred as the rest of the chapel. She fought to breathe slowly, deeply, as she fought for calm. The heaviness in the chapel was suffocating.

And then the air lightened.

Claire realized the reliquary no longer burned her hand and she felt lighter. She felt that He had listened. Maybe the goddess had listened, too.

“Halt!”

Claire froze at the sound of the sharp command, spoken in French.

“Take yer hand from the chest.”

Claire slowly turned.

A towering Highlander faced her. Dark and handsome, his eyes blazing with the wrath of gods, he exuded authority and danger. His hand was on the hilt of a two-handed broadsword. Claire knew he wouldn’t hesitate to use it. “Step away.”

Claire obeyed. “MacNeil said I could spend a few minutes alone. I needed to pray.”

His eyes widened. They were spring-green, lighter than MacNeil’s. “Yer an American.”

Claire was surprised. Had he traveled to her country in her time?

But he had not relaxed. Suspicion filled his strong features. He gestured now. “Come forward.”

Claire did so. “I am with Malcolm of Dunroch,” she said tersely. This man appeared to be about forty, which meant he was older even than MacNeil, didn’t it? His eyes were hard, terribly hard. He did not look as if he had ever smiled, not once in his entire long life. He made Malcolm, Royce and MacNeil look like charming playboys.

His eyes narrowed, sliding over her in a cursory inspection, and then it veered abruptly to her throat. He met her gaze. “If ye be friends with Malcolm and if MacNeil truly left ye alone here, then I will only advise ye to never touch the shrine.”

“I’ll go.”

“Ye be from a foreign land, but ye wear a Highland charm.”

Claire froze. She touched her pendant, which was shockingly hot again. First Malcolm had been fascinated with the stone, now this stranger. “Yes. It was my mother’s. Who are you?”

“Ironheart of Lachlan.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Claire said uneasily, “I should go. I bet Malcolm is looking for me.”

“How did your mother get the stone?”

“I don’t know.”

“May I see it?”

Claire stiffened. She rarely took the charm off, and then only to clean and polish it. She didn’t want this stranger touching it.

“Lady.” He smiled now. His eyes had become warm and friendly. “Mayhap a proper introduction is in order? I be the earl of Lachlan, an old friend of Malcolm’s.” His tone had softened and Claire had no doubt he often used it on women to lure them to his bed.