Dark Seduction

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.”