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That inscrutable silver gaze drifted up from where her bare toes peeped beneath her smock, along the outline of her legs, belly and breasts, finally lingering at the burning expanse of her face.

Aileana clenched her hands in front of her, willing herself to be strong, to resist the urge to fall at his feet and beg for mercy.

He’d surely laugh and humiliate her more if she did.

“You’re trembling.”

His quiet statement caught her off guard. She thought she’d heard a hint of concern in his voice. Her breathing slowed, and the panic receded a bit. Perhaps he was not wholly without honor or sensitivity. He might treat her with tenderness, or at least some—

“But you’re wasting your virginal show of modesty on me, for I’ll not be taking my pleasure with you as my leman, this night or any other…

” Duncan leaned forward, lacing his fingers together as he rested his forearms on his thighs.

“…because I will not risk the possibility of breeding my bairns on a MacDonell wench.”

Aileana gasped at the insult. He’d played her for a fool, bringing her all the way to Eilean Donan only to stand her before him like this to debase her further.

Her hands balled into fists at her sides.

Her gaze darted round the chamber, but her clothing was nowhere to be seen.

As she willed calm to fill her, she walked over to the bed, grabbed a blanket and wrapped herself in it before heading to the door.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

The arrogant tone of his question freed her tongue. “To find where Bridgid’s hid my clothes, so I can get them and go home.”

“If you do that, your brother will die.”

The harsh words slammed into her, and Aileana whirled from the door, throwing caution to the wind as she flung her anger back at him. “The agreement between us was to spare Gavin’s life if I came with you as leman. I fulfilled my part of it—it’s your change of heart that frees me to go home!”

“There’s been no change of heart. If you leave, you will be casting off our terms and our pact.”

Frustration bubbled over in Aileana. She stalked to him, the blanket dropping to the floor, forgotten, in the heat of emotion. “Dragon’s breath, MacRae! You just said that you did not—”

“If you’d cease babbling for the space of two breaths, I’d tell you the way of it between us.”

Aileana’s mouth clamped shut, her arms crossed in defensive pose over her chest. Being interrupted reminded her, suddenly, that she’d lost control of her emotions.

Stiffly, she prepared for the punishment that should follow—that had always followed such outbursts at home.

Father had drowned out her opinions all the time, and then, when he’d finished his tirade, he’d delivered her correction with heavy-handed stoicism.

But Duncan just stared at her in silence.

Feeling more than a little reckless at the freedom his reaction allowed, she abandoned her training in docility even further and let her brows arch in mocking question as she waited for his explanation.

Duncan gestured to the stool opposite him. “Sit.”

“I prefer to be standing when I hear your twisted thoughts.”

He grimaced, his reply matching her sarcasm. “As you wish. But know you that our agreement stands as before. Your brother’s life will be spared, provided that you serve as my leman, in every way but in the sharing of my bed.”

He shifted back in the chair, lounging in insolent confidence.

“However, my clan and yours must think our arrangement true. You will sleep in my chamber, on that pallet over there,” he indicated the ticking on the floor in the corner, “except in the wee hours, when you will come into my bed so that Bridgid won’t suspect anything amiss when she comes in to feed the morning fire. ”

Silence fell thick and heavy between them, the added disgrace of these new terms wounding her deeply.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked at last, her voice quiet with hurt.

“It piles the sin of falsehood on what is already an abomination. Do you really hate me so much that to torture me like this gives you pleasure?”

Duncan’s silver gaze wavered, then hardened again. “Your torture , as you choose to call it, need not be forever. You could go home tomorrow, if you wish.”

“Of course I wish it,” she retorted. “But you’re speaking in riddles.”

“Not at all. It’s very simple. Your humiliation and the dishonor to your clan will end on the day you reveal the location of the Ealach to me.”

“Give you the amulet?” Shock, anger and relief blended in a torrent as Aileana stared aghast at him. “But we made no such condition in our agreement. You’re changing the rules to suit yourself!”

“That’s the way of it, Aileana MacDonell. Give me the amulet and you go free. Keep it and remain bound to me.”

A hissing log on the fire popped and fell to the coals, flaring sparks.

Aileana glared at Duncan. He sat composed as he awaited her decision.

She averted her gaze. Giving him the Ealach meant she could return home tomorrow.

Back to the only home she’d ever known, but as a failure, perceived a fallen woman by her clan.

Or she could continue to protect the Ealach and suffer the indignity of appearing to be Duncan MacRae’s leman for the rest of her days.

It suddenly dawned on her that either way, she faced the same trap. Whether in the MacRae’s bed or out of it, she was ruined.

She glanced beneath hooded eyes, studying the lean, muscular grace, the golden, scarred skin and chiseled features of the tyrant sitting before her.

Bitterness rose hot and full in her throat.

Because of him she would never savor the pleasures of home or hearth or the joy of her own children playing round her feet.

She’d be scorned by all who saw her as Duncan’s cast-off whore.

The issue was moot; even if he allowed her to remain pure in body, no one would believe it.

It would seem impossible that this bold, virile animal had denied himself full use of his leman.

And because of that, no self-respecting man would ever again consider her for a wife.

Aileana straightened and clenched her jaw. Her dreams of a normal life, of companionship and family, fluttered away like ash up the chimney. But if she stayed at Eilean Donan, she could at least ensure that her suffering had purpose. The amulet would remain safe.

It was settled, then. Duncan MacRae could chew nettles; she’d not tell him where she’d secured the Ealach . He’d drawn the battle lines against her with his cruel treachery, and now he’d pay the consequences. He’d pay dearly.

“I’ve made my decision, MacRae. I’ll be staying.” With a flap of her chemise, she scuffed toward her pallet, adding, “May your sleep be full of ghosties and evil fairies for the bargain you struck with me tonight.”

Refusing to look at him again or react to the weight of the silence billowing at her from where he sat, Aileana stretched out on the soft ticking and burrowed deep.

Prickling heat stung her eyes, but she blinked it away.

This was no time for tears. She needed to make plans.

Duncan MacRae would get his fair reward for this, by heaven.

And now she had all the days for the rest of her life to enact every plot she could envision against him.

With that comforting thought, Aileana squeezed her eyes shut and tried to let her mind drift into dreams of satisfying revenge.

Duncan rolled over and tried to find a comfortable position.

Sleep had eluded him for several hours. He’d watched the fire burn down to glowing embers, watched his remaining candle melt to nothing.

And more often than he cared to admit he’d sat up to look at the fiery-haired, stubborn wench curled into a sleeping ball on the corner pallet.

Aileana MacDonell surprised him at every turn.

He’d been certain that, granted the possibility of going home, she’d give him the amulet without clamor.

He’d ordered Bridgid to work her hard this day to add to the enticement of leaving.

But she’d stood her ground. And now he was faced with a prospect he’d not allowed himself to truly consider.

She would be living here for the devil knew how long.

Every day he’d have to contend with her chattering tongue, her annoying female ways, her pointed stares…

and a constant view of her creamy-skinned beauty.

With a groan Duncan punched a lump on his bed. Comely or not, he couldn’t take her. Morgana’s blood ran in her veins. Her clan had slaughtered his people. Slaughtered Mairi.

Cold seeped into his chest. He didn’t want to see the picture in his mind again, didn’t want to remember. But it was there. It would always be there—the sight of the woman he’d loved, still and lifeless at his feet.

Closing his eyes, he rolled onto his side.

No further reminder was needed. Aileana MacDonell was a forbidden temptation, his opponent in this battle of wills.

And if he had to work like hell, he’d get her to tell him where the Ealach was.

Soon. But he had a sinking feeling that until he did, he’d be spending much of his time immersing himself in the distractions he might find in the great hall.

Or anywhere else that the accusing, seductive gaze of one honey-eyed, flame-haired temptress might not be able to reach him.