Page 81 of Dark Embrace

The blue eyes changed, and she felt a huge and sudden frustration. I canna shift…he’s trapped me.

Disbelief began. Reason chased it aside. Hadn’t Moray trapped them both in the dream for a while?

Ever astute, Allie whispered, “Is he under a spell?”

Brie wet her lips. “Yes, he is.”

The Wolf glanced toward the deeper part of the woods and Brie realized he was going to vanish into the forest with the pack. She stepped forward, reaching out, then withdrew her hand, thinking the better of it. She didn’t know how much of the beast was a savage, feral wolf and how much was the man she loved. “Please don’t go. If you go, how will I find you?”

I ken where ye’ll be, Brianna.

His blue eyes held hers. Then the Wolf bounded past her, disappearing into the forest, the other wolves following. Brie just stood there, stricken with dismay.

“Well, at least he’s alive,” Allie said slowly.

Brie hugged herself. “And a wolf can’t hang.”

BRIE CROUCHED BY THE TENT FLAP, holding it slightly ajar, her body stiff with tension. She was spying on the Brotherhood.

She’d felt the power, massive and male, emerging from the mists of time, as Master after Master leapt to their camp. Dozens of holy, time-traveling, superpowered medieval Highland warriors were standing outside Aidan’s tent. A volatile discussion had begun. Voices were raised, tempers high. Her mouth was so dry she couldn’t swallow.

She couldn’t focus on their words, although many of them were speaking English. Each and every Master personified masculine perfection in one way or another. Some of the Highlanders were drop-dead gorgeous, like Aidan; others were ruthlessly male, like Royce. Biceps bulged, as did thighs—and the occasional English codpiece. Testosterone thickened the air.

The flap was pulled from her hand, and she straightened, heart slamming, as a Paul Walker look-alike in medieval Highland gear dimpled at her. His eyes were a dazzling shade of green. “Do ye wish to join us?” he asked.

She tried to find her tongue. Why on earth was he undressing her with his eyes? Because of the hour, she was swaddled up in her many layers of modern and medieval clothes, not to mention that she wore the silly pince-nez. She was hardly attractive. “I…er…isn’t the council…classified?” she stuttered.

“Why do ye panic so, Brianna Rose?” he asked softly.

“How do you know my name?” she managed in surprise.

“I’m a friend of Lady Allie’s. Ye may call me Seoc or MacNeil.”

She stared into his eyes and he stared back, his gaze sizzling. The look was impossible to resist. She felt her body warm, responding to his magnetic and sexual pull, a pull she could actually feel. Then she realized what he was doing. “Are you trying to enchant me?”

“I dinna need to enchant any woman,” he boasted. “But the nights are long an’ very, very cold.”

She breathed hard. This man had once been Aidan’s friend. She had hoped to meet him. “I will not be seduced. I am with Aidan.”

His gaze flickered. “I ken. But he left the Brotherhood long ago. Once, I mourned him. Now I dinna care much for his fate, and I am happy to fight him for a woman.”

Brie had to try to make sense of his words. “You’re joking, right? You don’t intend to fight over me.”

He dimpled. “I’d love to fight over ye, lass,” he said. “In fact, I’d love nothing more.”

Brie gaped at him.

His grin widened.

He must love war, she thought. It was the only rational conclusion she could muster. She was taken aback, but flattered. “Aidan told me about you. But he made you sound like a leader, not a warmonger.”

“Aidan hates my brother,” Seoc said flatly. “’Tis Neil he spoke of. My brother commands the brethren.”

Before Brie could assimilate that, a low, threatening, very angry snarl sounded behind her.

Brie whirled in abject relief. “Aidan!”

But the Wolf seemed as vicious and savage as it had that day in New York. It growled at Seoc and crouched to attack, eyes blazing with murderous fury. I will kill ye, ye fuckin’ bastard.