Dark Embrace. Brenda Joyce

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СКАЧАТЬ eyes were so flat, without light—almost like the eyes of demons, except that their eyes were black and soulless and Aidan’s remained sharply blue.

       If he had a conscience, could he be redeemed?

      Brie sat up straighter, wincing against the pain. Aidan did not appear to be redeemable. Surely she was not his salvation!

      Shocked that she would even think such a thing, Brie managed to get to her feet, holding the aching side of her ribs. She leaned against the cold stone wall, certain he’d gone out of the room. She didn’t know what she was going to do when she found the door and stepped out of it.

      She prayed that she would step out into a bright New York City summer day.

      She was pretty sure Hudson Street was not outside that door.

      She started forward, staying close to the wall, until it turned at a right angle. She followed the wall until her hands slid over a coarse wooden door, with some of the panels splintered off the frame. She fumbled for a doorknob or latch. When she found it, she hesitated. Once she walked through that door, there was no turning back.

      Aidan was outside that door, somewhere.

      Brie opened it, revealing a shadowy hall. The corridor was a blur, but there was no mistaking the flickering lights on the walls. The hallway was lit with candles in sconces. She was definitely in a castle in the past.

      It crossed her mind that, if that historian had his facts right, it was before December 1502, because Aidan clearly hadn’t been hanged yet.

      She turned and saw an open embrasure. Outside, the night was blue-black. She inhaled, and the air was scented with pine and the sea. Brie walked over to the loophole. Ebony water gleamed below, and the distant shores were pale with snow.

      She’d been transported to the Highlands. The last time she’d smelled such invigorating air had been on a summer vacation spent trekking across the northern half of Scotland. In spite of her trepidation, some excitement began. The Highlands would always be home to a Rose woman.

      It was freezing cold out—and inside the castle, too. She shivered, wishing she had a coat.

      A door farther down the hall opened. Brie instantly felt Adam’s hot, hard power. It didn’t feel evil—but it didn’t feel white, either. She jerked back against the wall, wishing she could vanish into the stone. Even though she couldn’t see clearly, she knew it was Aidan stepping out from the chamber.

      He turned toward her and stared.

      Her mouth went unbearably dry. Why had he taken her back in time with him? What did he want? What was her purpose?

      He started toward her. She didn’t have to make out his features to know that he was unsmiling. She realized he’d put some kind of wall up. His anger felt distant, not as violent or threatening. His shocking sexual urges were gone, along with the bloodlust. She was only slightly relieved.

      As he came closer, she realized he was clad as a medieval Highlander in a belted tunic, a long and short sword, his legs pale and bare over knee-high boots. In fact, he was dressed just like her vision of him in effigy, except she couldn’t see if he wore the fang necklace.

      She tensed as he paused before her. It was a moment before he spoke. “I’ll have a chamber readied fer ye.” His tone was carefully neutral.

      She was relieved he was exercising self-control over his emotions. “Where am I?”

      “Yer at my home, Castle Awe. I’ll have ye sent back to yer time when yer stronger,” he said brusquely.

      His gaze was so hard and unwavering, she flushed. Maybe it was better that she couldn’t see his expression, because even blurred, his regard was unnerving. She felt almost as if she’d been trapped in a cage with a wild animal and that she didn’t dare move, for fear of provoking him.

      But with the two of them alone in the hall, it was impossible not to recall being in his arms. Even shielded, his power was so male and sexual that her pulse raced. She would always find him terribly, unbearably attractive, she thought.

      What she hadn’t felt earlier, though, was his magnetic pull. A force pulsed between them, urging her toward him. She probably hadn’t noticed it before because of her empathy. His turbulent emotions had been an overwhelming distraction, but his magnetism was shockingly strong now.

      She would ignore his pull. “Are you okay?” she asked carefully. She couldn’t discern any bandages beneath the tunic.

      His gaze narrowed. “Ye ask after my welfare?”

      She wet her lips. “You’re the one who got shot.” Because of her, she thought.

      His anger roiled, pushing at her. “I’m almost healed.” He was harsh.

      So he had an extraordinary recuperative power, she thought. That was not demonic, either. Demons didn’t heal, not even themselves—they destroyed.

      “A maid will show ye to yer chamber. Ye can stay there.” He whirled, striding down the corridor.

      She had no intention of remaining in the hall, alone in the dark of the night—especially with her impaired vision. He had started down a dark hole that was obviously a spiral staircase. “Wait, please,” she cried, rushing after him.

      He began to vanish down the spiraling steps, as if he hadn’t heard her. He was obviously ignoring her.

      Brie rushed forward, pain erupting from her ribs. Her depth perception gone, she tripped and went flying down the stairs.

      She landed hard. After the agony of their journey through time and her bruised or fractured ribs, it hurt impossibly and she cried out, tears finally filling her eyes. For one moment, as his hands instantly closed on her arms, she felt dizzy and faint. And then she felt only his large hands and the strength coming from them.

      His grasp was reassuring, she managed to think. But that was impossible, because of what he had become.

      “Will ye nay watch where ye go?” he demanded with heat. “Do ye have two left feet?”

      Her ribs throbbed and she looked up into his vivid blue eyes. His mouth was inches from hers. She was almost in his arms, so close she could see him perfectly. What was she going to do with her attraction to him?

      His eyes changed, smoldering.

      “I can hardly see at all. I need my eyeglasses,” she managed. Had he just looked at her mouth?

      “Yer hurt,” he said flatly, his gaze on hers. “The possessed boys hurt ye.”

      She nodded, biting her lip, wanting, absurdly, to apologize for being a klutz. Even more absurdly, she wanted to move closer to him. He simply didn’t feel that dangerous now. She felt like putting his hand on her throbbing ribs, as if his touch would soothe them. And she felt like touching his perfect face. The urge to reach out to him was so strong, she began to lift her hand.

      He became very still, his face hardening, his eyes brilliant now. Abruptly, he put his arm around her and hefted her to her feet, then pushed her away, against the wall.

      His anger spewed, filling her. She began to feel sick, СКАЧАТЬ