Page 38 of Dark Seduction

Glenna paused, her hand on the door. “How do you know Malcolm?”

Claire hesitated. “We are distant cousins, too. Very distant,” she added.

Glenna’s eyes widened. “But I have never heard of your family.”

Claire gave up. She was really upset and she had to admit it, which only proved that this turn was a blessing in disguise. What she wanted now was to be alone so she could get over her very brief involvement with a medieval macho man. She walked past Glenna—and fell in love.

From the upper-story window, the gleaming gray Atlantic Ocean stretched away into eternity. But if she looked a bit to the west, she could see the thickly forested shores of Argyll, the dark mountains beyond shrouded in mist. She tried to imagine the view on a sunny day and knew instantly that the water would be the color of sapphires, the forests of emeralds.

“Camden is a strange name. I have never heard it. Is it an English name?” Glenna asked. “Are you related to Malcolm’s mother?”

Claire’s mind raced. Was Malcolm’s mother English? Many of the great Lowland families were. What tie could she claim? “My husband, may he rest in peace, was her cousin.”

Glenna paled. “But you have remarried, of course.”

Claire got her drift. “Actually, no, I haven’t. I am unwed.” She knew it was really petty to feel triumphant now, but she knew the last laugh wasn’t going to be hers.

“Malcolm has brought you here to replace me, hasn’t he?” Glenna trembled, tears filling her eyes. “Does he think to marry you?”

Claire tensed. Damn it, she felt sorry for Glenna. “We are not about to marry. We don’t even know each other,” she said slowly. Then she realized how ridiculous such a statement was in the fifteenth century, when marriages were for gain not love.

Glenna choked. “I am marrying him. I am his betrothed.”

Claire went still. “Oh. I didn’t know.”

“I won’t let you steal him from me,” Glenna warned. “I have been here six months. Everyone knows we will wed.”

“Is it official?”

“What?”

“When’s the date?”

“Soon,” she cried. “We will set a date soon!”

It was odd that a date hadn’t been set and she felt relieved, although she knew she should not. Malcolm would probably marry his cousin. And if he didn’t marry Glenna, there’d be someone else. It was the way of his world.

And Glenna belonged here. She, Claire, did not. She had to get over it—and him. There was no point hating Glenna; they were not rivals. Claire’s kinder nature won. “Hey. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m not hanging around for very long.”

Glenna blinked back tears. “Who will hang you? What have you done?”

“I am not marrying Malcolm,” she said seriously. She hesitated. What she and Malcolm had done wasn’t right, although he would probably disagree. “Very soon, I am going home. You have nothing to worry about. At least, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“And where is home?” Glenna demanded, wiping her eyes. “And when will you return?”

“I am English,” Claire said. “I will return to England. As for when, I don’t know, not exactly.”

Both women stared. Finally Glenna said, “And when he comes to you, tonight? Do not deny it—I know he will. I know him very well.”

Claire’s heart slammed. “I will bolt my door,” she said. And she meant it.

CLAIRE HAD GIVEN HERSELF a tour of the keep, being careful to avoid the ramparts and the walls. Then she had bathed and brooded, and by the time Brogan appeared at her door, grinning, a baby tooth missing, and telling her in stilted English that Malcolm was waiting downstairs, she had come to her senses. She was now dressed like a Highland woman in a full-length leine with undergarments, and as she went down to the hall, she reminded herself that she was over Malcolm. In fact, she was happy for him and Glenna, really. She was relieved. He was a medieval macho man and there was no point in any kind of relationship at all. This was for the best. She could now focus on learning all she could about the shrine, the books and the secret society of Masters. She could focus on avoiding Sibylla and “her kind.” She was eager for the morrow and their excursion to Iona—in fact, she could hardly wait.

She smiled firmly, patted down the surprisingly soft linen dress, making sure no material gaped over her belt—she did have a very narrow waist—adjusted her bra straps and her boobs, and started down the narrow stone stairs. The moment she approached the hall, she heard Glenna’s voice, choked with sobs.

Claire stumbled and hesitated. Then, instead of going into the hall, she darted against the wall, near the entryway. She glanced inside.

“How can you do this to me?” Glenna wept. “And all because you have a new lover?”