Page 74 of Dark Embrace

Brie blinked. “The power was coming from his hands.”

Allie began to smile. Tears formed and she swatted at them. “He’s my friend, too. He was my knight of swords, remember? I love him. Now, what kind of trouble are you in?”

Brie stiffened. “His father has returned from the vanquished and he has more power than I could have dreamed.”

THE WOLF WANTED TO GET OUT OF his body. Aidan wanted nothing more than to let the Wolf free and hunt his archenemy, but he somehow refused it.

He could not leave Brianna alone. He didn’t dare go too far from her, in case Moray came back to start another battle or even to finish the war. He kept one sense on her always. As he did, he was acutely aware of what his father wanted him to do.

But Ian was dead.

Alone, he sank onto a boulder, cradling his head. His grief warred with the Wolf’s vicious rage.

Papa?

He didn’t know what that plaintive tone had meant. He reminded himself for the hundredth time that it was a cruel trick in a cruel dream. Brianna had made an irrefutable point. If Ian were alive, he’d be a grown man. Besides, he’d never dreamed of Ian, not even once. Clearly Moray had the power to foist this dream on him, just as he’d had the power to trap him and Brianna in it.

And then he felt the white power emerging on the plain below.

Aidan leapt to his feet and walked warily to the edge of the ridge. He stared down the snowy slope, instantly identifying the intruders. He was stunned when he realized it was Black Royce and Lady Allie. But of course they would come—Allie loved Brianna, and Royce would do as his wife wished in the very end. He was torn between dismay, anger and relief.

He crossed his arms, refusing to think about the past. It was impossible.

Did ye summon me to yer bath? Do ye wish fer me to help ye bathe?

He’d stood there at the door to her bedchamber, decades ago, grinning, having heard her thinking his name. She denied it, and he already knew Allie would never do such a thing. She was madly in love with his best friend, Royce. Instead, she had flirted with him, just a little, and he had flirted back and agreed to help her so she could tempt Royce into her bed. He had thought his friend a fool for denying himself such a beautiful woman.

Aidan grimaced. He was not that carefree, lighthearted man now, a man used to laughter and flirtation, a man eager to help a damsel in distress, even if he couldn’t have her.

“I can help you, Aidan. Let me help you!” Lady Allie cried.

Ian was dead, lost in the aeons of time. Malcolm had just unearthed him, and Aidan would never forgive his brother for doing so. Lady Allie and Royce, having heard of his son’s Fate, had leapt from Carrick to Awe to console him. She was weeping for him. He hated her for her tears.

“Get far from me,” he roared.

She shook her head, and showered him with her powerful, healing light.

For one moment, he was incredulous. He would grieve for Ian forever. She had no right!

His grief and rage erupted as one. He roared and roared and threw his power at her, all of it, wanting her gone, wanting her dead, like his small son, and she was blasted from the bridge. She was small and it was like throwing a ball. She screamed, spinning away across the field toward a stone wall. Royce appeared, catching her. He knelt with his wife in his arms and when he looked up, he was enraged.

Aidan couldn’t wait to do battle. He would kill him, too!

“Royce, no,” Lady Allie begged.

Royce blasted him with all of his power.

He was trembling now. Lady Allie was very much like Brianna—kind and good. He should not have tried to hurt her, much less kill her. Regret dared to creep over him.

He hadn’t felt regret in years.

Royce had walked to stand at the bottom of the ridge, and he stared up at Aidan. Aidan tensed, staring back down at him. Even from this distance, he felt Royce’s hostility and wariness. Royce did not trust him. No one trusted him—except for Brianna.

And maybe, considering what Moray wanted, she should not trust him, either.

“Why do ye taunt him? Why do ye act all of twelve years old? He’s yer brother an’ the two of ye need to make peace.”

Aidan did not want to remember how important Black Royce had been to him when he had grown up in a foster home. Although he had not lacked for food or shelter, Aidan had been a burden on the Maclaine family and he had been treated very differently from the Maclaine sons and daughters. Royce had been both a father, friend and uncle to him, even without any blood tie. Royce had visited him as much as possible when he was a very small boy, always bringing a gift. He had taught Aidan how to wield his sword, and how to fight hand to hand. And he had never ceased trying to forge a familial and amicable relationship between him and Malcolm, once the truth of Aidan’s parentage had become known to them both. In the end Royce had succeeded, and Aidan and his brother had eventually come to good terms—until the day of Ian’s murder.