Dark Lover (43 page)

The little boy ran shouting with delight across the great room. The wolfhound pup ran with him, barking in excitement. His father had returned from battle, victorious! And Aidan entered with his men, his plaid wet, his boots muddy. He ignored the maids who waited to take the brat and give him wine. “Come here, my boy!” he cried, smiling. And Ian barreled into him, only to be swung high in his arms, laughing. And he was so happy…

Tears formed in his eyes as he stared at his father. “Ye truly believed I was dead. I know that now.”

“I saw him kill ye,” Aidan said harshly. “I leapt time over an' over, trying to prevent yer murder. I spent sixty-six years hunting Moray, years I could have spent looking fer ye. I will die with my regrets.”

“No,” Ian choked. “No one should live with guilt and regret.”

“No one should live with pain,” Aidan said softly.

Ian shrugged. “It's not as bad now. Fer a long time, the past felt present, but not anymore.”

Aidan nodded. “I am glad.” He hesitated. “I should go.”

“Wait!” Ian said sharply.

And Ian stood there, suddenly wanting to tell his father that he was sorry and that he understood. The day had come where the pain had to end for them both. “I am sorry,” he heard himself say. “I am so sorry to have blamed you for what wasn't yer fault.”

“Ye really forgive me?” Aidan's eyes were wide, incredulous. “I'd do anything fer ye. Yer my firstborn, Ian. I love ye as only a father can love a son.”

Ian nodded and his heart erupted in emotion. He loved this man, too. He always had. He'd never stopped. The anger had made it impossible to feel.

Aidan's face softened. Too late, Ian realized his father was adept at telepathy, which was as natural to him as breathing. Aidan had read his mind.

And he was glad.

The room suddenly tilted oddly. As gold dust filled the space between them, Aidan smiled. Ian became aware of the power he'd felt earlier—majestic, holy. For one moment, he thought that one of the gods had come back to earth.

But a tall, golden Highlander emerged from the mist, smiling paternally at him. “Hallo, a Ihain.”

Ian tensed. He'd met MacNeil several times, when he'd first been released from captivity, in the months he'd been changing so rapidly from boy to man—before he'd forsaken medieval times for the future. The Abbot of Iona managed the Brotherhood, and some said, had as much wisdom and power as the gods.

“What, no warm welcome?” MacNeil clasped his shoulder. “Ye seem wary, lad.” He faced Aidan. “Hallo.”

Aidan nodded. “Neil.”

His holy power seemed to flow from his hand into Ian's shoulder and it felt right. “Ye've never paid me a visit here, not in twenty-five years.”

“'Twasna time, lad. But 'tis yer time now.” His green eyes twinkled.

He was paraphrasing the god, Ian realized.

“Ye met yer worst enemies, one by one. Ye faced yer worst fears an' conquered every one. I'm proud of ye, Ian. All the gods are.”

He was shocked. “No one is proud of me,” he said slowly. But his heart thundered. There was hope.

“I'm proud of ye. The Ancients are proud. Yer father, standin' there before ye, is proud.”

Ian felt tears rise. He turned away so neither man would see. It felt impossible, like a miracle. “Ye mean it.”

“Aye, I do. 'Tis no miracle, either, lad. Ye've earned our respect.”

He nodded, incapable of speech.

“Dinna ye wish to ken the cause of my sudden visit?”

He met MacNeil's amused yet satisfied gaze and his mind raced. “I think I know. Ye mean to lecture me on my having lived out of my time.” Dismay began. He'd made a deal. If the gods wanted him back in 1527, he'd have to go. And he knew Sam wasn't going to move back in time for him.

His gut clenched. Now was not the time to think of her or the feelings he'd admitted to having that day. But they remained, deep and eternal, a part of him now.

“Ye've been granted a dispensation.” MacNeil grinned. “Ye can stay in the future with yer lass.”

Ian was amazed.

“But there's one condition, of course,” MacNeil said seriously. “I've decided it myself.”

Ian couldn't imagine what strings were attached.

“Ye must take the vows yer father has taken. 'Tis time.”

Ian was certain he'd misheard. He glanced at his father, whose eyes shimmered oddly. “Ye want me…
me
…to join the Masters?”

“Of course we do,” MacNeil said. “Dinna we protect ye during the time of yer captivity? Any other man, even a near-immortal, would have died. It was written that ye'd live to see this day—and many others.”

Ian was stunned.
The gods wanted him after all
. An image flashed, of living in New York City, his duty now to the Innocent. And Sam Rose was at his side…

He was so overcome, he could not speak.

 

H
ALF-DRESSED
, Sam looked at the peanut butter jar her sister was holding. “Are you kidding me?”

“Pretty clichéd, huh?” Tabby grinned.

“That's where you stashed Moray's evil?” Sam started to laugh. It seemed funny now.

“It was the only jar I could find on short notice. And besides, this spell was the previous one in reverse, if you remember.”

Sam shook her head. “I do remember, you told me about it—last time you sent him up into the universe. I don't think a peanut butter jar is going to hold Moray's power for very long.”

Tabby was smug. “It's going in a vault at my local Bank of America.”

Sam smiled. “How about we hand that over to CDA? They have secret vaults downstairs that we're not supposed to know about. I always wondered what was in them. Hey, maybe a hundred peanut butter jars are in there, all filled with the evil left by dead demons.”

Tabby wrinkled her nose. “That's a disgusting thought.”

It was. Sam sobered. “What's next, sis?”

Tabby put the jar down on a bureau. “We have to go back. But I have some good news. Macleod read Hemmer's mind. The page is in a vault at the Bank of New York.”

“That will make Nick really happy.” Sam thought about the pages from the Duisean that Moray once had and that the monk of Carlisle had undoubtedly come to possess. “Did he happen to read Carlisle's mind?”

“The Brethren are searching Carlisle Cathedral as we speak, Sam, for any parts of the Duisean. But it's a long shot. The monk could have hidden them anywhere.”

“You'll let me know if you find something, right?” Sam said, already missing her sister. But it wasn't like before. It was a soft pang and it didn't hurt. Tabby was fine. Macleod was actually a great guy. And she had Brie, back there in the Middle Ages. Brie was doing just great, too. She had Aidan.

“I will let you know. This time, we are staying in touch.”

Sam looked at her closely. “I saw Mom.”

Tabby started.

“It wasn't real, but it was great.”

Tabby touched her. “Rose women don't die. They go to another place.”

“That's a myth.”

“Is it?” Tabby smiled at her, as if she knew something Sam did not.

“How are we going to stay in touch?” Sam asked.

“I don't think it's going to be a problem, Sam.”

What did that mean? “I am not moving to the Middle Ages!”

“I never said you were. But while some of us are meant to stay in one time, for the most part, others, not so much.”

Sam stared. “And I'm one of the others.”

“Yes, dear, you are.” Tabby suddenly hugged her. “And you have Ian now.”

Sam took a breath. “Tabby, I do love him. But he's got a ton of scars. Everything that's happened doesn't mean we're going to live happily ever after fighting the war on evil together, like you and Guy, or Brie and Aidan.”

“Of course it does!” Tabby cried happily. “He's your other half. I'm not going to say it will be easy, because he has a long road of healing ahead. But he has taken the first steps. And you have learned compassion. The two of you are meant to be each other's teachers. You are each other's soul mates.”

Sam sat down on a gold brocade chair. “He left me.”

“Really?” Tabby gave her a look. “Well, you're certainly a couple now if I ever saw one.”

Before Sam could object, Brie came into the room. She rushed to Sam and hugged her. “You're still the strongest woman I've ever met. I'm so proud of you.”

“Me?” Sam laughed, and she actually hugged her back.
“Look at you! All grown up, so pretty—so centered! Where is my shy geek?”

Brie laughed. “She grew up, fast. Oh, Sam. We're all so lucky, aren't we?” Tears came to her eyes.

Sam thought about the three of them and Allie. She thought about Ian and Guy and Aidan. She thought about her mother. “Yeah, we're so lucky.”

Brie gave her a motherly look. “And you are going back to work for Nick.”

Sam bit her lip. “Well, if he grovels, I suppose I do need an income. And he
is
handing over Ian's file with no strings.”

“See, he isn't that bad.” Brie laughed, then sobered. “We have to go.”

Sam tensed, looking at Tabby.

“It's not forever,” her sister said. “And this is a good thing, because you need to start your life with Ian.”

“Since when did you become so wise? But I guess a couple of centuries will do that to a Rose.” Sam walked them both to the door. Okay, so it did hurt a little. “Do you really have to go right now?”

“Yes, we do,” Tabby said. “Innocence is in need in 1527. And I miss home.”

“Okay, my lady, but it's not goodbye. It's see you soon.”

“In L.A.,” Brie retorted. “You owe us dinner.”

Sam laughed.

When Brie and Tabby were gone, Sam pulled on her jeans and tank top, oddly happy and excited. She already missed them, of course she did. But every Rose woman had a destiny, and hers was Ian Maclean.

She went still.

Her destiny was so much more than slaying. She felt it deep in her bones.

And he loved her, too. She'd heard him. When she was dying, she'd heard him thinking about how he couldn't live without her. It was mutual.

Sam felt his presence and power. She looked up. Ian stood in the doorway, clearly just having showered, his hair still damp. He was clad in jeans and a black polo and that Cartier watch, so sexy, so elegant, still somehow dangerous—the best sight she'd ever seen. But they were both entering territory they'd never dared enter before.

And his expression was so somber, so searching. What did that mean? “Hey.”

“Hi.” He came forward. “How do ye feel?”

“Better than ever,” she said softly, aware that her heart was exulting. “Care to join me for a drink?”

“I want to talk first.” He walked forward and pulled her into his arms.

Sam was surprised by the display of affection. But his hard body had an instant effect on her. “Hey. Are you okay?”

He was thoughtful. “Today, I faced my worst tormentors and recalled the worst moments of my past.”

Sam went still. She searched his face. The terrible haunted look was gone from his eyes. “You look different,” she said cautiously.

His smile came and went. “I feel different. My worst nightmare, until today, was facing Moray again.”

She touched his cheek. “But you did it. He's gone.”

He slowly shook his head. “It
was
my worst nightmare. But my worst nightmare is having ye die, Sam.”

“I didn't die, Ian.” She hesitated. Then she decided to just do it. “I heard you.”

He flushed. “Did ye see the Ancients?”

So he'd avoid declaring his feelings. That was okay. She nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

“MacNeil asked me to join the Masters. I agreed. I'm to take my vows shortly.”

Sam was thrilled and as he smiled, she realized how pleased he was, too. She grasped his arms, only to suddenly
realize what that might mean. “You're leaving me,” she said, alarmed.

He quickly shook his head. “No. I made that mistake once. I'll never make it again.”

She gasped, stunned. “What did you just say?”

“I said I'm not leaving you.” His gray eyes blazed. “I'm allowed to live out of my time—with ye—and that is what I will do.”

She started to see the future—a future she'd never dreamed of. She and Ian in New York, best friends, partners, lovers and soul mates, fighting the war together.