Page 95 of Dark Seduction

Malcolm hadn’t died. And James wasn’t Moray’s soulless lackey. The gods were out there, and God had always been the bulwark against evil. She had to get religion.

“Ye want to use religion, Claire,” Malcolm said quietly, “but usin’ it, even fer a good cause, an’ havin’ faith be two different things.” The words were barely out of his mouth when a terrible expression of alarm covered his face. And that was when Claire felt a chilling wind rush over the marshes.

Royce whirled his horse, shouting commands in Gaelic, and she heard the wild battle cries of the approaching army as they burst into the glen.

Fear choked her. She saw perhaps a hundred mail-clad foot soldiers, wielding pikes and shields, and two dozen fully armored, mounted men. Claire glanced behind her as the knights bore down upon them at a mad gallop. Castle Awe was a mile distant. The marsh was no more than a mile wide from side to side, surrounded by impenetrable forested mountains, the pass ahead. Claire wasn’t a military strategist, but she didn’t have to be one to know that they were too far from the castle to return safely to it, and that they were caught out in the open with no place to run or hide.

Royce galloped to them, slamming something at Malcolm, which he seized. “Take the page an’ Claire,” he said. “I’ll hold them off here.”

Claire expected Malcolm to protest as the first knights engaged his men, their bloodcurdling cries filling the dawn, lance against shield, sword against sword. But he seized her reins. “Claire!”

Claire grabbed the horse’s mane as they wheeled and galloped back toward Awe. She looked back at the expanding battle. Everyone was now engaged, even the foot soldiers, making them terribly outnumbered. Horses screamed and men cried out, swords ringing, clashing, echoing. She turned ahead as they galloped toward the castle, breathing hard. The outer drawbridge was being slowly and cumbrously lowered. In minutes, surely, Aidan and his men would emerge. But her little gelding was on Malcolm’s steed’s flank, and she wasn’t going to be able to keep up with his stallion for long.

She looked over her shoulder again. A dozen riders were pursuing them, ignoring the main battle. “Malcolm!” she screamed into the wind. The drawbridge felt as if it were a hundred miles away.

And Malcolm thought so, too. He slowed his gray, holding out his hand. We’ll leap.

Claire reached out for him and their fingers brushed, but he missed grasping her hand.

“Claire!” He halted his stallion abruptly and it reared. Saint Will raced past the gray and was instantly flung backward by the rein Malcolm was holding, stumbling hard. Claire sailed over his head.

She somersaulted and landed hard right below her neck, where it joined her spine. For one moment, she just lay there, stunned, stars shooting in the sky above. Malcolm raced to her on foot now and Claire saw the pair of knights galloping toward him from behind, swords raised. She sat, pointing the gun, her hand shaking wildly. “Malcolm!” she warned him, firing.

She aimed at the horse. It went down, the knight rolling just out of the charger’s way, avoiding being crushed. Malcolm whirled, sword and shield raised, to meet the other knight’s attack. On foot, he swung hard at the rider, who swung as hard back. Malcolm staggered backward as their blades locked.

Three foot soldiers were upon them. Two wore mail shirts, one just a leine. Claire knelt, aimed, fired and saw one man fall. When he did not get up, she guessed they were men that Moray had turned to evil, not demons. Suddenly two knights were hauling their horses to a halt before her, cutting her off from Malcolm.

The first lifted her visor. “Hello, Claire.” Sibylla grinned.

Claire froze, pointing the gun at her. Behind Sibylla, Malcolm was trying to fight three men at once. Her escalating heart rate made her feel faint. It was hard to aim straight.

“I wouldn’t make me angry, if I were you, Claire,” the redhead said, her smile widening. “You really don’t want to get on my bad side.” She rode at Claire.

Her heart slamming in alarm, Claire didn’t hesitate. She fired. The bullet hit Sibylla in the chest and the impact through her armor should have sent her flying from her horse; it did not. Instead, she reached down and jerked the gun from Claire as if she hadn’t felt the gunshot. From her eyes, Claire saw that she had felt some pain and that she was now angry, but it wasn’t stopping her. Worse, as their gazes met, Claire felt a terrible sensation, as if her insides were being turned to jelly. Her racing heart slowed.

Sibylla was taking her life.

Claire’s knees felt weak. She stumbled, aghast with what was happening. And she felt lust blaze in the other woman. Claire looked up to beg for her life.

Sibylla’s eyes were hot and bright as she leaped from the horse to kneel over Claire. And the moment their gazes connected, Claire knew she’d made a fatal mistake. For Sibylla began to mesmerize her and Claire felt her body relax, even though her mind screamed at her to resist. The mushy feeling inside her increased—and to her horror, a wave of pleasure swept her body, and her loins swelled, aching for a caress.

Sibylla laughed softly. “You have so much power! But I have known that for some time. Unfortunately, I’m not allowed to kill you, darling. And by the way, you won’t need that.”

And before Claire could understand, Sibylla leaned down and reached for her throat.

And Claire saw the other woman holding her mother’s necklace. Disbelief and impotence vanished. Instead, there was rage. She howled, attacking the woman, intent on dragging her down—she’d get the stone back! But Sibylla caught her wrist, her strength shocking once more. In that moment, Claire knew she was toast.

Time stopped. Silence fell. Her eyes gleaming and crazed like a drug addict’s, Sibylla thrust her shortsword deep into Claire’s shoulder.

Claire had never known so much pain. She stiffened, blinded by the red-hot agony, incapable of any thoughts except a terrible awareness of the stunning torment.

“I’m not allowed to kill you,” Sibylla whispered. “But maybe you’ll die anyway.” She released Claire.

Claire heard her but couldn’t reply. She sank to the ground, her legs giving way instantly. The sky was turning black. She wanted it to turn black. She spun in a cyclone of pain. Vaguely she heard Malcolm’s roar of rage. The pain made her want to die. Then there was nothing but silence.

MALCOLM PANICKED.

As Claire fell, blood pouring down her chest and arm, he froze. Then panic exploded. Sibylla leaped onto her horse, sword raised, and charged at him.