Dark Seduction

“She could have bought it in a pawnshop! Or my father could have bought it there, if it was even his.” Oddly, she felt panic. Had her father been a Scot?

“Ye be distressed. Why?”

Claire shook her head, turning away, hugging his brat to her body. “I didn’t know him and he never knew about me. I was a mistake, the result of a single night of passion.” She whirled. “You’re almost making me think that my father is a Highlander—a contemporary one, of course.”

“Ye dinna look like any Highland lass, but I be thinkin’ ye be connected t’ me, somehow.”

She sputtered, “I am connected to you because you ripped me from my time and brought me back here with you!”

He smiled grudgingly. “Aye.”

“How? How do you travel through time?” This was the single most important question of all, if she was ever going to get back to the twenty-first century.

“I will it.”

Claire stared and he stared steadily back. “Some wizard or monk, some shaman, must have found a black hole and figured out accidentally how to use it,” she finally said. “And the knowledge was carefully passed along.” It crossed her mind that if a medieval man could travel through time, surely peers of hers were secretly doing the same thing.

“Nay. ’Tis a gift from the Ancients.”

She could not look away. “The ancient shamans?” Was he telling her that time travel dated back to pre-Christian times?

“The old gods, Claire,” he said softly. “The gods most of Alba have forsaken.”

She felt chills. Her theory had to be correct. Someone, perhaps in medieval times, perhaps much earlier, had stumbled upon time travel. Such knowledge would be carefully guarded and carefully passed on. Of course he believed that his ability was given by the gods. His culture was a primitive one. Throughout time, mankind sought explanations for events and phenomena they did not understand in religion.

But he was treading in dangerous waters with such beliefs. “Which old gods?” she asked, fear arising.

He just looked at her.

“If you believe you have powers from a god, any god, even Jesus, that’s heresy.”

His mouth hardened. “I be Catholic, Claire.”

Claire shuddered. No Catholic believed as he did. Her mind raced. Heresy was a serious crime in the Middle Ages. In Europe, the Church had actively and aggressively prosecuted heretical movements, using the notorious court of the Inquisition to do so. Heretics were usually excommunicated and outlawed, not executed. On the other hand, a member of the Lollard movement had been burned for heresy by the Church, right there in Scotland. The date was unforgettable, because the great wave of prosecutions had come a century later.

“Have you ever heard of John Resby?”

His eyes widened. “Aye.”

Claire tensed. “He was burned at the stake for his beliefs in 1409.”

“I was a small boy.”

Claire inhaled. “Then you know you should not be talking so openly about old gods and having powers a man should not have.”

“’Tis a privy discussion,” he said darkly. “I be trustin’ ye, lass. Ye have no fanatical beliefs.”

“How would you know that? But you’re right. I’m not even Catholic, Malcolm. I’m Episcopalian.” And that made her a heretic in his time, as well. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

He nodded. “If I didna trust ye, I’d never tell ye the truth.”

She couldn’t imagine why he would trust her, an absolute stranger. He added, “But ye’ll come to the mass with me, Claire.”

“Of course I will. I’m not a fool—I have no problem playing along with orthodoxy until I go home.”

His gaze flickered oddly and he walked away from her.

“How many of you are there?” she asked grimly. The ramifications of his beliefs kept growing. A man who had extraordinary powers could be accused of witchcraft, sorcery, association with the devil. Thank God the great witch hunts were in the next century, not this one. “Can Black Royce travel through time? Is he one of you? Does he believe this power comes from the Ancients, too? And how have you kept yourselves secret?”

A cool smile flashed. “Why do ye care about Royce’s powers?”

“He’s different, like you,” Claire said firmly.

“Nay.” He turned away from her, his stance stiff and braced. “Royce be the earl of Morvern, nothin’ more.”

Claire hesitated, very aware that Malcolm was closing the discussion now. But they were treading upon dangerous and probably forbidden territory. His beliefs—and his ability to travel through time—were undoubtedly a very secret subject. But she was beyond certain that Royce had Malcolm’s abilities, and probably his beliefs, too. She slowly walked up behind him. When he turned, she was aware that only an inch separated them, and that she should not use any feminine wiles to get the answers she wanted. She slowly laid her hand on his chest.

A huge jolt of desire stabbed her as her palm smoothed the linen shirt flat against his hard muscle. “Tell me. Finish it. You’ve already told me a terrible secret, one that threatens your life, so tell me the rest.”

His smile was twisted. “Dinna play me, Claire.” But his eyes blazed and not just with anger. Claire recognized lust.

“Why not?” Touching him was making her feel weak and faint. “You’ve played me from the start.”

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