Brenda Joyce - Dark Embrace

He knew she was hurt, and somehow, he knew exactly where. “Aidan, wait.”

He faced her. “Will ye ever cease yer talk?”

She took a breath. “You saved me from the subs. I haven’t said thank you. Thank you, Aidan,” she added firmly, and she smiled hesitantly at him.

His eyes widened. Angered all over again, he whirled and started down the stairs.

He was a powder keg, she thought, and it took only a word or a look to set him off. She started after him, but didn’t dare rush. There was more light on the landing below, and she saw his shape far ahead, vanishing into another room. A moment later she paused on the threshold of the great hall.

Although she couldn’t make out details, it was a huge, high-ceilinged room. One wall contained a massive fireplace, where a large fire blazed. Two chairs were before it, and a long table was in the hall’s center, with benches on either side. The room was large, yet the furnishings were so spare.

Aidan sat at the head of the trestle table and was pulling a trencher forward. Brie smelled roasted game and ale.

She hesitated. He wasn’t alone.

A small boy of nine or ten stood beside him. He was dressed like Aidan, in a knee-length tunic and a plaid, and he had dark hair and blue eyes. Brie almost thought she knew him, but that was impossible.

The boy looked at him pleadingly, but Aidan only drank from a heavy cup. Brie sensed the child was really distressed.

Brie tensed. It was one thing to be rude to her; it was another to ignore an unhappy child.

Brie was so upset it took her a moment to speak. Maybe she could help the child, if Aidan would not. “Hello,” she said, smiling brightly even though it was forced. “Do you speak English? Can I help you?” she asked, kneeling so they were eye to eye.

Aidan choked on his wine. His brilliant gaze had widened with shock.

Brie ignored him. The boy was now facing her. He was so familiar, yet she knew she couldn’t have met him. “I’m Brie,” she said softly. “What’s your name?”

The child seemed bewildered.

Brie’s concern escalated. “Are you okay? Where’s your mother?” she asked, realizing he might not speak English.

Aidan shot to his feet with a roar. “What ploy is this?”

Brie leapt back. So much pain went through her that she was blinded by it. The pain came from him, not her ribs.

Aidan seized her arm, shouting at her. “Who do ye speak with?”

Brie fought the pain flooding her. That terrible knife was in her heart again, and with it there was so much despair. Her vision cleared, and she looked at the boy. He started speaking to her. She did not hear a word.

Her heart slammed as a vague memory tried to surface.

Aidan seized her shoulders now, hurting her. “Who do ye see?” he roared at her.

Had she seen this boy on Five? Brie looked at the frightened, expectant child, then at Aidan. “Oh my God. You don’t see him?”

Aidan turned white. “Nay, I see no one!”

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