Page 45 of Dark Seduction

If the world was as Malcolm claimed, then evil was deliberately and purposefully stalking its innocent victims, seeking destruction and death.

If Malcolm was right, evil had a terrifying new face.

Malcolm approached, his men now mounted. He smiled at her, but his gray gaze was searching. “Ye didna sleep well.”

It wasn’t a question. “Neither did you.” Claire noted that he didn’t look tired at all. She wouldn’t be surprised if he could go days without sleep and remain unaffected.

“’Tis a short trek to Iona,” he said. “Ye can rest there.”

Rest was not on her mind. “I am sorry about last night,” Claire said tersely. “It will never happen again.”

He shrugged. “Yer a woman, lass. Ye need a man to protect ye.”

Claire smiled grimly. She did not want to fight with him. The fight had been knocked out of her last night.

A moment later, she was mounted beside him and they were riding through the gatehouse, the portcullis slamming down behind them. They crossed the drawbridge. The moment the last rider cleared the bridge, Claire heard it being raised. The trail down to the beach was as steep as she recalled, forested ridges on their right, the cliffs on their left. And then the temperature dropped.

Instantly, beneath the horse’s hooves, in a single heartbeat, the dirt turned white with frost.

The leaves and thistle on the sides of the trail turned white, too, and her breath made puffs in the air.

And Claire knew.

So did Malcolm. He shouted a command in Gaelic. He glanced at Claire. “Ye stay back!”

Before Claire could exclaim or protest, he was on his charger, galloping down the road with his men, one warrior having seized her reins. She tried to jerk her reins back, because all she could comprehend was that evil was hunting them and Malcolm was not going to face it alone.

“Let go!” she screamed.

The man was young, huge and annoyed. He reached for her—and Claire jammed her Taser into his arm. He collapsed.

She seized her reins and kicked her horse as hard as she could, galloping headlong down the trail, holding the saddle horn, determined not to fall off. Malcolm’s war cry rang out in all its bloodcurdling intensity. Her heart went wild. She rounded a corner and saw Malcolm’s men furiously battling their attackers. Already, bloody bodies littered the road. She saw him whirl his charger, meeting a vicious assault with his shield. A moment later his attacker lay on the ground, face-first. And as suddenly as it began, the battle seemed to be over.

She sawed on her reins. Five men in mail lay prone on the ground. Huge relief began.

The mare halted, flinging her head about in protest. Claire didn’t want to go closer, not yet. She wanted to see what Malcolm was going to do now, because they’d taken three prisoners.

Malcolm dismounted and handed his shield off. His swords sheathed, he approached the three prisoners, who were being held by his men. Claire tensed, uncertain. She had a very bad feeling. Malcolm’s expression had never been so ruthless.

Malcolm paused before the trio. She saw him look at one man, dismiss him mentally, then look at another and finally face the third. A terrible light flickered in his eyes.

The third man, a tall, fair-skinned giant with blond hair, paled as if with pain.

Malcolm said something to him in Gaelic. Claire knew he was demanding answers.

The other man gave the most evil smile Claire had ever seen and her gut turned over with dread.

Malcolm spoke again.

The giant stared coldly back. Malcolm didn’t move a muscle. He skewered the giant with his stare and the man went down on his knees, as if pushed. But Malcolm hadn’t touched him, and his men stood behind the prisoner to prevent his escape.

Claire’s skin crawled. What was happening? The giant seemed to be in some pain. Malcolm’s stare burned and the prisoner went abruptly down on his back, as if flung by a huge force.

Malcolm pressed one booted foot on the man’s throat.

Claire bit off a cry.

And now, although Malcolm spoke in Gaelic, Claire understood. “Moray neo Sibylla?” Moray or Sibylla? He wanted to know who had sent them.