Page 51 of Dark Embrace

“Like my son’s death?” Aidan cried, trembling.

“I am not a god, and I do not debate their Wisdom and writings with them,” MacNeil said, laying his hand on Aidan’s shoulder another time.

Aidan wrenched away. Ian’s death had been written. Hadn’t it?

Ian lives.

His heart filled with a savage, unbearable pain. He had been doing his best to avoid recollection of those terrible, cruel words until now. It was not true. It could not be true. Moray wished to torment him to his death this time.

“I remain sorry fer yer loss,” MacNeil said gravely.

Aidan shook with despair. “He told me Ian lives.”

“He plays ye, lad.”

Aidan trembled, staring. If Ian was alive, he could not be a ghost. Ghosts came from the dead. There was no hope. He did not want to ever have hope again.

“He distracted ye today. He’ll do so again. He’s played ye yer entire life, cat an’ mouse. He hunts ye now.”

Aidan met MacNeil’s concerned gaze. It was true. His father had started hunting him when he was ten years old and fostering with the Maclaine family. He’d hunted him lightly then, but he’d hunted him very seriously and ruthlessly from the day he’d been chosen and joined the Brotherhood.

“He’ll never forgive ye fer defyin’ him, fer servin’ the Brotherhood. He’ll never forgive ye fer allowin’ yer lovers to live. He’ll never forgive ye fer hunting down his three deamhan sons, one by one, an’ destroyin’ their families, their lands. Dinna let him torment ye further, lad.” MacNeil’s large hand found Aidan’s shoulder again.

This time, Aidan did not wrench away. This time, there was so much despair.

A powerful healer like Lady Allie could have saved Ian. A god could have saved Ian.

He forced the hope away. Ian was dead and Moray would have to pay with his life.

“This war must end and there will be one victor. Let us help ye, Aidan. Ye remain a brother, always.”

“Do ye ken how Moray can be vanquished?” he asked harshly.

MacNeil shook his head.

“Then I dinna care fer yer help.” He started to walk away.

“An’ what about Lady Brianna?” MacNeil called to his back.

If you like virgins, my son, it can be arranged.

Aidan faltered. Instantly he reached out for her. She was asleep, but not dreaming. Even though she was not in danger, he did not relax.

His father had known that he’d chosen to go to Brianna in a dream, instead of taking power from the Innocent in the women’s camp. Did he also know that Aidan had desire for her, instead of lust? Did he know that Aidan was resolved to protect her? If Moray knew any of those things, Brianna was in jeopardy.

His fear escalated wildly as he met MacNeil’s gaze. Clearly the Master knew all of this, too.

“She can come to me at Iona anytime,” he said, and he vanished.

If he sent Brianna to MacNeil, she would be safe upon Iona’s holy ground. She could look at MacNeil with her huge, trusting eyes; she could annoy him with her unwelcome opinions and she could covet him, body and soul, as she surely would.

He was rigid. He hated the idea of Brianna desiring the other man.

BRIE DREAMED OF THE MEDIEVAL BATTLE, the sound of swords and artillery, shouting men and screaming horses ringing in her ears. She waited frantically for Aidan to appear. She somehow knew he was alive, but she was terrified for him. And when he suddenly slid off his horse and into her arms, he was covered in so much blood that he slipped out of her hands.

He was going to die, she thought, panicked.

But he didn’t collapse. Instead, as if she weren’t there, he walked of his own accord into his tent.