by Brenda Joyce
Allie crossed the bailey at a run, keeping close to the buildings and the walls. She did not intend to be spotted by the watch. The sally-port was on the eastern wall, and she unbolted it and stepped through. Then she ran alongside the moat, which gleamed black as velvet in the starlight, heading south. Still keeping as close to the wall as possible, she finally turned the corner. No watch shouted in alarm.
Her heart pounded. She had made it, but she was hardly pleased. Speke’s sick lust was stronger now. Allie slowed, pretty sure he was thinking about her and just as certain she didn’t want to know what he was thinking. Her gaze veered to the darkest place beneath the south wall. She couldn’t see him, but he was there, and as she approached, her feet began to drag. When she was a few yards away, she saw the outline of a small dinghy. His form emerged from the shadows.
Speke must have smiled, for his teeth flashed, glistening with saliva.
Her heart thundered now. Her grip on her dagger tightened. “Speke.”
“Lady.” He stepped forward and his gaze met hers. It was intense, bright, maddened.
Allie looked away, uneasy.
He dragged the rowboat to the moat and slid it silently into the water.
Allie didn’t move. His lust was hotter now, and she felt his energy roiling. She didn’t have to read his mind to know he was thinking about her in some very grotesquely sexual and sadistic ways.
How was she going to get into the rowboat with him?
How else would she cross the moat?
She could swim.
Except, her long gown would make swimming almost impossible. And she wasn’t about to strip down to almost nothing in front of this evil man.
“Come, Lady.” His teeth flashed again. Spittle dripped from his lips.
Allie could not believe she was such a coward, when she hadn’t even reached Moffat himself. She rushed past him and stepped into the rowboat, then held up her dagger threateningly. “Stop thinking about me,” she warned softly. “You touch me and you’re dead.”
His teeth flashed—as did his eyes. He stepped into the stern and picked up the oars. “So pretty…so small. So much skin to cut and taste. Have no fear, lady. I obey my master. He has forbidden me from cutting you, from tasting your blood. I’m not allowed to touch you, alas.”
Allie was not reassured. And Speke did not look upset. He looked pleased—too pleased. In that moment, she had a terrible foreboding that she would not make it to Moffat Hall in one piece.
AIDAN AWOKE.
He had been chosen ten years ago, even though his father, the earl of Moray, had been the most powerful deamhan in Alba for a thousand years. He hadn’t understood why the Brotherhood chose him, and even though MacNeil had claimed it was his Fate, Aidan hadn’t truly believed it. He wondered if he had been chosen because of his devout mother. In truth, he hadn’t cared to be turned into an avenging hero of any kind, as he enjoyed his life far too much. But once chosen, Moray had been hunting him, determined to turn him to evil.
Moray had been vanquished three years ago by his half brother, Malcolm, and his wife, Claire. Aidan hadn’t believed it then; sometimes, in the midst of a nightmare, he did not believe it now. How many nights had he awoken, a lover at his side, wet with sweat, oddly afraid, only to rush into his son’s chamber to make certain Ian lived and was still at Awe? But his powerful deamhan father was dead. Otherwise, he would have long since come back to destroy everyone—his own son and grandson included.
The vows were usually inconvenient. Rushing through time to protect the Innocent often interfered with his affairs, especially his love affairs. The Code he rarely bothered with. He hated rules in general, especially those handed down by the Ancients thousands of years ago.
But, oddly, he cared about Innocence, and he had done so even from the Choosing, when he was so ambivalent about the Brotherhood. He could not comprehend why, as he was well aware that his nature was a selfish and hedonistic one, except, of course, when it came to his small son. His greatest love, after little Ian, was beauty, and the pleasure that came from it in bed. Every time he turned around, another beautiful woman awaited his attentions, or so it seemed. And while he’d rather seduce Innocence than protect it, in the last decade, he had become a great defender after all. He’d even heard bards sing his praise as if his powers were legendary. That had amused him to no end.
In the past few years he had come to care about his vows, too, although he would never openly admit it, and he was certainly not as fervent as the great Masters, men like his best friend, Royce. Ruari Dubh had never condemned him for the fact of his paternity, he had never objected to his hedonistic ways and he had never criticized his failure to truly embrace the Code. Most importantly, he had been more of a father to him than anyone. Royce had even begged Malcolm to be a true brother to him, when Malcolm had first hated him, because of what Moray had done to their mother. Aidan owed Royce more than he could ever repay and was acutely aware of it.
And his powers kept growing, month by month and year by year. At first, there had been the stunning strength, the impossible stamina, the endless virility and the ability to leap time. Then a healing power began—at first awkward and elusive, then increasingly steadfast and strong. In the past years, his senses had begun to hone and sharpen in the most amazing manner. He could sense evil from great distances, and identify its source. The other week, he had sensed evil in the future, and he had leapt to 1552 in a faraway land to battle a horde of demons, in order to save a beautiful widow and her child. The widow had repaid him handsomely in her bed. The child would one day be a King.
Now he sat up, fully awake, aware of evil very close to the castle walls. He focused. A relatively weak but sickly evil human was at the south walls.
And instantly he felt the Healer’s white power there, as well. Aidan tensed, surprised. Her power was usually blinding, for it was such a huge healing light. But now, it was faded and weak, almost imperceptible. He knew she had disguised it.
Alarm filled him.
What ruse was this?
But hadn’t she wished to trade herself for her mother from the start?
Where was Royce?
He leapt from the bed, seizing his belt and swords, which lay on the floor by the head of the bed, in easy reach. He was buckling the belt as he strode into the corridor. At the far end, Royce’s door flew open and he came out, his face hard. “Evil comes,” he said tersely.
And Royce flung open the Healer’s door. He froze.
Aidan felt his shock and then his disbelief. He hurried to him. “She’s nay there. She’s at the south wall—with the blackened human.”
Royce turned to him, the terrible comprehension filling his eyes.
Aidan said urgently, “She’s disguised her power, mayhap with a spell. But I can sense her.” His focus sharpened. “She’s with evil named Speke, a henchman o’ Moffat.”
Royce shook. “She gave me her word that she would obey me.”
Aidan already knew his friend was in love with the Healer, even if he would never admit it. It still surprised him that Royce, a true soldier of the gods, a man committed to his vows, had become smitten by a woman, for it was against the foolish rules. But he was gladdened, for he liked Allie and knew how deeply she loved Royce. It was pleasant to see actual expressions on Royce’s face, to sense his happiness and even see him smile. Now, he feared for them both. He grasped Royce’s arm. “We need to hurry.”
Royce looked at him, his gaze as cold as ice. “She betrayed me.”
And Aidan knew that comprehension was the knife in his heart, severing their bond and sealing their discordant Fate.
Sorrow crossed Royce’s features, followed by a terrible look of anguish, and then all emotion was gone. He strode down the hall. He slammed his fist on Blackwood’s door but did not stop. Aidan followed him, wishing the Healer had thought about what breaking her word would mean to a man like Royce. She was in trouble, but when the trouble was ended, Royce would turn from her. Aidan felt
sorry for them both.
And then he felt her pain.
So did Royce, for he paled—and he began to run.
THEY HAD BEEN TREKKING across the rolling, wooded hills for about twenty minutes, Allie clutching her knife, her palms wet with sweat. She was acutely aware of the pressure building in Speke. He didn’t look at her, but his energy had been roiling ever since they had rowed across the moat together. It had been growing hotter and hotter by the minute. His head was down now. She didn’t like what was happening. She felt his mind racing in frantic circles. It was as if he was tormenting himself with his thoughts of her.
She sensed him losing control. She prayed it was her imagination. She walked several steps behind him now, ready to defend herself at the slightest provocation.
He stopped.
Allie almost crashed into his back. She halted and leapt away from him. Past him, below in a small valley, she saw the light from the fires of a small village. But she did not sense Moffat’s huge black power there.
Speke turned, his eyes gleaming red in the starlight. “You’re afraid.”
“Not at all,” she lied thickly. She held up the knife, pointing it at him.
He licked his fat lower lip. “You’re the purest of them all—purer than a virgin.”
“Keep walking,” Allie said tightly, her heart slamming.
“But you’re not a virgin. You like to fuck. I saw you this afternoon, in broad daylight.” His smile curved.
“Your master has forbidden rape.”
Speke smiled widely and reached into a jacket pocket. His energy had become explosive, as if he was ready to find a sexual release from whatever thought he was having.
Allie tensed, certain he was about to assault her.
And he threw a rope around her neck, laughing.
Allie went to cut it.
He kicked her wrist so hard that pain blinded her and she dropped the knife.
“I did not touch you,” he crowed, and the noose tightened around her throat. He jerked on it cruelly, so she was hauled abruptly forward. She seized the noose, starting to choke, and he jerked again. Allie fell face-first into the dirt and grass as he pulled, strangling her.
Panic overcame her and she could not think. The noose was so tight, she couldn’t pull it away from her neck. Frantically she clawed at it as she rolled onto her back, incapable of drawing any air into her lungs. She was going to be strangled to death.
Suddenly he released the pressure.
Allie gripped the noose, loosening it, breathing hard and deep, blood seeping down her neck, sobbing in relief.
“Oh, yes,” he said. And he jerked on the line, hard. Immediately the noose tightened, cutting into her flesh, threatening to break her fingers, so she couldn’t breathe yet again. She felt blood against her knuckles, and she was blinded by panic.
She couldn’t breathe.
He jerked tighter.
He was going to break her neck.
She clawed at the rope, at her skin, the night growing even darker, her lungs burning.
He laughed in sheer excitement, releasing all the pressure.
Allie gasped for air, sucking it in, the night blackening around her. She gulped raggedly, her throat on fire, knowing she must not faint, not now. Somehow she tore the rope to her collarbone, gasping. “Stop!” Her tone was raw.
“But I can’t touch, or cut, or taste!” He jerked so hard and abruptly on the rope, she went face-first into the ground and pain exploded in her neck; something snapped.
A roar filled the night.
And Allie felt Royce’s fury. Before she could even assimilate that he had come to defend her and that she’d been too hurt to even sense him approaching, Speke was blasted off of his feet and across the wood.
Choking, Allie seized the rope, loosening it. On her back, frantically sucking in air, she saw Royce standing not far from her, enraged, his murderous fury directed at Speke, his aura like the fires of hell, shocking her. Aidan and Blackwood were with him, but Allie barely saw them.
Royce glanced coldly at her.
As if on cue, Aidan ran to her, kneeling. Instantly Allie felt sick, but not from being strangled and choked. Her gaze locked with Royce’s; she knew he was very, very angry with her. But she had to stop him from killing Speke, who might have information about Elasaid.
Aidan removed the rope, flinging it aside. “Yer bleedin’. Ye clawed yerself. Be still.”
Allie tried to speak, to tell him to keep Speke alive, but it hurt to do so.
“Hush,” Aidan said, encircling her throat with his hands. She started, stunned to feel his healing power entering her body, warming her throbbing neck, realigning her spine, and finally easing the terrible pounding in her skull. It felt so good.
But she couldn’t stay still and her gaze lifted to Royce, who watched her now. Her heart thundered in response to the cold look in his eyes. She wanted to beg him to understand, but he turned away dismissively, lifting his hand, before she could try to use her voice.
Speke was flung across the wood again, into a tree, so hard she heard his bones crack.
She shoved Aidan aside, somehow standing. She tried to speak, but her throat hurt. “Royce, stop! He may know where Elasaid is!” she rasped.
Royce didn’t look at her. His expression ruthless, he blasted Speke again, his energy lifting him high and sending him into another tree.
“Royce,” Allie cried hoarsely. “Stop, please!”
Aidan said, beside her, “He canna hear ye.” He touched her to restrain her.
She somehow glanced at Aidan and saw kindness and pity in his eyes, which she did not understand. “Stop him,” she begged.
But Royce now lifted Speke and sent him whirling back, toward them. He crashed not far from where Allie stood with Aidan, his body broken and mangled. He would not live much longer.
But he was still very much alive. His red eyes were filled with fear. “I didn’t…touch her….”
Allie shoved free of Aidan, running toward him. “Where is my mother? Where is Moffat keeping her? Where is Elasaid?” she cried.
Speke didn’t look at her. He only had terrified eyes for Royce, who strode toward him. “Ye die,” he said ruthlessly.
“No,” Allie gasped. “Royce, I am begging you!”
But Royce ignored her, staring at Speke. And Allie saw the man’s power, blacker than the night, spiral upward from the creature’s body like a small cyclone. Aidan gripped her arm and Allie cried out in despair. The evil swirled upward into the skies and Speke lay sightless and dead.
“Royce,” she whispered, choking on a sob.
Royce stood still, breathing hard. If he heard her, he gave no sign.
Aidan said quietly, “I lurked. He dinna ken where Elasaid is.”
Allie heard him, but could not take her gaze from Royce. For she felt his fury escalate and his aura turned to flames. Like a forest fire out of control, it raged.
And then his aura contracted as he willed himself into a state of control.
He suddenly looked at her, his eyes silver and hot with restrained wrath.
She went still.
Aidan stepped in front of her. “Yer angry, Royce. But think. She’s yer Innocent,” he said tersely.
Royce didn’t look away from her. “Dinna interfere, Aidan.”
As afraid as she was, as tense and stiff, she managed to speak. “It’s all right.” Their gazes remained locked, his frighteningly hard. “We have to discuss this.”
Royce gave her the coldest, most condescending look she’d ever received. “Talk?” He was scathing. “I dinna wish to speak with ye ever again.”
Allie cringed. “Royce!”
“Ye broke yer word.”
She tensed, her pulse hammering. Carefully, aware of how monumental this moment was for them, she breathed and said, “I promised to obey you—but you didn’t make me promise not to trade myself for Elasaid.”
His eyes widened. “Ye ken I would refuse a trade! I said many time
s I wouldna trade ye for yer mother. But ye stand before me an’ claim ye dinna disobey?” His eyes blazed.
She inhaled. “Don’t do this.”
“We’re finished.” He turned and gestured furiously at Aidan. “Get her out o’ my sight.”
Aidan dragged her away.
WHEN ROYCE FINALLY returned to Blackwood Hall, it was close to dawn. Allie had sat in the hall, waiting for him, chilled by her fear. The moment he came in, she leapt to her feet. He didn’t look at her, striding from the hall and upstairs.
She hugged herself. She hadn’t meant to betray him—she had done what she thought right. Yet she had known he would think her agreeing to a trade, behind his back, a betrayal. But she hadn’t imagined this kind of reaction—as if, in one instant, he could cut her out of his heart and his life without ever looking back.
And then she heard thunder booming.
It was directly above her and she jumped up, crying out, the thunder reverberating again from directly above her. Just as she wondered if they were in the midst of an earthquake and the castle walls were coming down, she felt his rage explode, turning into pain.
Allie ran up the stairs, hearing that terrible sound again. As she came to the small passage leading up to the tower, she realized that there wasn’t a storm and there wasn’t an earthquake. Stone was crashing down.
Aidan seized her from behind. “Ye’ll nay go up unless ye wish to die!”
Allie turned and fought him. “He’s hurt! He needs me!”
“He’s in rage because o’ what ye did.”
Stone sheared off and crashed down. And she saw him vividly, as if she could see through the walls, breaking apart the window embrasures with his bare, bloody hands, heaving slabs of stone onto the floor. She leapt, facing Aidan, terrified for him. “Let me go to him! He’d never hurt me!”
Aidan’s grasp tightened, becoming cruel. “He hates ye now.”
Allie went still, staring at Aidan’s cold, hard face. She realized he was angry with her, too. She watched Royce destroying the stone tower with energy blasts and his bare hands. “I did what I had to do—what I thought was right. Aidan, you of all men should understand!”
