Page 88 of Dark Seduction

Claire decided to gamble her life.

And he must have sensed her intentions, because he turned white. The same horror she had seen last night covered his face.

She moved in front of the door, blocking the path out of the stable. “Malcolm, we have to believe in each other. And you have to believe in yourself. Please,” she added desperately.

“How in God’s name can ye do this now?” he roared, erupting into fury.

Claire’s heart was pounding so hard she felt faint. “Make love to me.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

IN HER HEART, Claire believed that if they could have a night like they’d had at Dunroch, without any spell, Malcolm would realize he could triumph over the darkness. But the moment the words were out, Claire wished she hadn’t spoken them. Because what she was really asking was for him to love her.

Malcolm’s expression turned from horror to fear. “Ye be mad,” he said thickly. “Ye think to play with yer life. I willna play, Claire.”

“You won’t touch my life,” she whispered. She was relieved. He hadn’t made the connection. He thought she was asking only for sex.

“Why? Why would ye make me such an offer? Do ye belong to Moray now? Is this his plan to lure me to the dark?” Suspicion filled his eyes. “Is he in yer mind now?” Malcolm asked softly, dangerously. “Has he enslaved ye an’ ye dinna ken?”

Claire cried out, shocked. “What are you saying?”

“Aye,” Malcolm said. “’Tis his greatest power—to enslave weak minds. ’Tis how he turns good men into his evil soldiers. He can creep into a human mind an’ do as he wills.”

“No,” Claire said in horror.

He shook his head, incapable of further speech, jammed his heels into the gray and galloped past her. Claire leaped out of his way. Dust and straw flew up in his wake.

Claire sat down on a bale of straw. Moray could control minds? Surely, surely, she was not being controlled that way. Her heart had led her to make such an offer and had he accepted it, she would have gambled her life on Malcolm’s will, strength and valor.

Claire couldn’t stop shaking. She was certain her offer had come from her heart, because it had been motivated by so much love. Claire wished she had never admitted her feelings, because damn it, now she wanted Malcolm to love her back.

Hadn’t she warned herself not to get entangled with this man?

Malcolm was not capable of love. He was capable of affection, passion, duty. But love?

He had promised her fidelity, but that didn’t have anything to do with love. And they both knew she was going home, sooner rather than later, so it hadn’t been a difficult promise to make or even keep.

Claire began to consider the fact that it might be some time, years even, before she went home. Everything had changed because they were both on Moray’s radar.

Now what? It was one thing to want to help Malcolm fight for his soul, and it was another to be yearning for him to love her back, when the future of their relationship was doomed, no matter what.

She needed to get a grip on her heart, but she didn’t think that was possible. She had always pitied women who fell hopelessly in love with men who did not return their feelings. Holy shit, she was one of those women now.

But she wasn’t weak. Claire stood, resolved. She loved Malcolm in spite of their differences, in spite of what the future held, so she had one choice now. Fight with him, fight for him, and be strong enough to go home when the time came—with no regrets and no sorrow, with all of her pride intact.

And as for Iona, well, being a woman stuck in the Middle Ages had vastly reduced her power. If they insisted on it, she’d have to go, but she wasn’t going to stay there for years and years. Royce had become hostile, but there was always MacNeil. And if she couldn’t convince him to help her, there were all those hunky Masters coming and going. Claire smiled. She liked having a plan. It was barely formulated, but it was better than nothing.

“Claire?”

She jerked, realizing that Ironheart had paused in the doorway, carrying a small, rolled-up plaid, which she knew contained his gear. Her eyes widened. “Are you leaving?”

He smiled briefly, walking past her and leading his big bay stallion from a stall. “Aye.”

She was dismayed. “How can you leave now? Malcolm needs you!” She thought, I need you.

He tied the horse and threw a blanket and saddle on him. “I’m going back to the Black Isle. I’ve been gone fer almost a month an’ I have clan affairs to attend.”

“The Black Isle?” she echoed.