Page 14

A ileana brushed the last bit of vegetable peelings out into the yard with vicious jabs of her broom. Two pigs and a goat thumped over on cloven hooves, snorting and rooting for the scraps as if their lives depended on it.

“We’ll be needing to gather more rosemary before the morrow, missy. See to it after breakfast,” Bridgid said as she passed by.

Aileana nodded, maintaining the virtual silence she’d taken up with everyone at the castle during the three weeks she’d been here.

Her method seemed to be working. Except for the occasions when she caught some of the women whispering behind their hands, the insults and mocking had diminished.

Even Duncan seemed to be complying with her unspoken wishes; he’d been busy leading raids on the neighboring clans that pestered them, but when he was at Eilean Donan, he maintained his distance.

And she was more miserable than she’d ever been in her life.

The fact that she couldn’t blame her gloom on him made it even worse.

In truth, his behavior confused her. Although she’d always pretend to be asleep when he took her to his bed in the wee hours of each morning, she’d found it impossible to ignore the gentleness of his touch.

He’d move quietly, so as not to disturb her rest, lifting her in the secure strength of his arms before tucking her under the blankets.

Though he never laid a hand on her once they were under the covers, his body’s warmth but a palm’s breadth away made the hours till dawn creep.

The vulnerable, open expression she caught on his face every now and again while he slept made it even more difficult.

Lately, she’d found herself struggling against the impulse to roll over and curl into the curve of his embrace.

Desperately, she’d resorted to recalling every insult, every humiliation that he allowed to come her way during the day.

She relived every time he’d commanded her and insisted that she wait upon him at table.

But no matter what she tried, the other visions would eventually steal in to torment her.

Visions of him standing next to her pallet, the dying embers of the fire casting his lean, muscular body in relief as he stripped off his tunic and his plaid…

the quiet, somber expression in his eyes as he carried her to his bed.

Those moments in the middle of the night showed another side to Duncan MacRae. He befuddled her mind, and she felt at a loss about what to think of it—of him.

“I do not have to think of him at all,” she mumbled as she plunked her broom down behind the kitchen work-table.

“Talking to yourself, are you?”

Aileana turned to face the person who’d spoke so sarcastically. Nora MacKenzie leaned back against the table, her breasts straining against the fabric of her tunic. “Mayhap you’re coming down with one of them pestilences that be spreading up from Edinburgh. Feeling a bit delirious are you?”

She isn’t worth answering. Aileana swept her gaze up the length of Nora’s well-endowed frame before looking away in dismissal. But as she attempted to move past, Nora stepped away from the table to block her path.

“One thing I know for certain—poor sleep isn’t the cause of your trouble.”

Aileana scowled, but she refused to answer.

Nora seemed not to care, her smile widening.

“I have eyes, you know and it’s clear that the MacRae isn’t keeping you up nights.

He’s always in the hall with us…and then later in my chamber with me.

” She raised her brow, taunting. “You must know very little about the ways a woman can help a man, so that he gets a good night’s rest.”

Stung, Aileana couldn’t help retorting, “I suppose such talents come naturally to a woman like you, Nora MacKenzie.”

Nora flushed, but the smile never faded from her face.

“All that matters is that Duncan enjoys the satisfaction I give him. Every blessed night.” She pushed herself away from the table and grabbed a basket.

“I should be thanking you for your lack of skill. It’s not often that a leman cannot hold her laird’s interest for even a few days.

” She tossed her head and looked over her shoulder as she left.

“So sleep well. I’ll be making sure Duncan does the same! ”

Aileana watched her go, a strange ache working its way up her belly to settle in her heart.

Nora had to be ly ing; Duncan had no interest in her.

She’d watched him ignore the woman’s overtures time and again at table.

He’d even nudged her off of his lap, once, when she’d tried to get him to drink more ale.

But then what had he been doing until the wee hours each night? Aileana swallowed hard. She thought back over the past weeks, her mind racing, wanting to grasp some bit of truth that would prove Nora a liar. But her claims rang true. Everyone had left Aileana alone. Including Duncan.

And the women snickering behind their hands…

Anger swelled in Aileana’s chest. Dragon’s breath, what if it was true? What if Duncan was bedding Nora, and so openly that the rest of his clan couldn’t help but know it?

Aileana sank onto the bench that flanked the table.

But why? Why would he deliberately compromise the ruse he’d created himself?

He’d wanted everyone from both his clan and hers to think that she was his leman in truth.

And she’d agreed to it. Agreed to remain here at this cursed castle in exchange for Gavin’s life.

How dare he add insult to injury, then, by permitting the others to witness his distaste for sharing her bed?

Aileana lurched to her feet. Her heart beat wildly, and her nails bit into her palms and she tried to hold herself back, knowing she was spiraling into an abyss of raw emotion.

The wretch . That he chose to slake his lusts on some other unfortunate woman was a blessing, but the way he was doing it gained nothing but further humiliation for her.

Marching out of the kitchen, Aileana set off in search of the man who appeared bent on destroying her life.

He wasn’t on the sparring ground or in the hall.

She even worked up enough courage to ask Kinnon if Duncan had joined the day’s hunting party in the glen.

He hadn’t.

Finally, at a loss as to where else he might be, she stamped up to their bedchamber.

Perhaps the fiend was fetching another pair of those cursed gauntlets he so loved to wear; along with his scowl, they seemed his favorite way of intimidating people.

But she wouldn’t let him dominate her this time.

Duncan MacRae was as accountable as the next man, and she would force him to admit that he’d nullified their agreement.

That he’d broken his own rules concerning her appearance as his leman.

With a shove that sent the door slamming into the wall, Aileana strode into their bedchamber.

Then she stopped with a gasp. Someone had pulled back all of the curtains, and sunlight spilled into the chamber like a glittering waterfall.

It blinded her for a moment, but a splashing sound warned her, an instant before Duncan’s rich voice rang through the chamber.

“Hand me that cloth, will you?”

Aileana’s heart rolled in her chest as her vision adjusted enough to make out the form of the giant washtub.

And Duncan was clearly sitting in it, submerged in bubbles up to his chest. His eyes were squeezed shut against the lather covering his head, and his left hand waved back and forth in the general vicinity of a folded linen towel that rested on the stool beside him.

By the time Aileana found her tongue, she could only stutter, “What did you say?”

Duncan’s hand ceased to wave. A slow grin split the bubbles on his face.

“Ah, my loyal leman.” Eyes still closed, he tilted his head back.

“It’s very simple. Either you can hand me that cloth over there,” he gestured again toward the stool, “or I’ll be needing to get up in all of my naked glory to fetch it for myself. ”

Aileana felt the blood rush in her ears. The renewed splashing sound shook her from her stupor, and she lunged forward to shove the cloth into his hand before he managed to pull himself to a standing position in the tub.

“Thank you, lass,” he murmured as he wiped the soap away and smiled again. “I thought that my proposition might make your choice easier to make.”

Aileana clutched her arms round her middle and stepped back.

Easier wasn’t the right word. Panicked had been more like it.

There was something disconcerting about standing next to Duncan when he was in this…

this state of undress. He’d shaven recently, and his smooth skin glowed so that she hardly noticed the scar on his cheek.

His hair looked darker when wet, though the sun still lit the flecks and streaks of blond in it as if they were touched by a sorcerer’s wand.

Her gaze drifted to his tawny chest, and then down his abdomen to where bubbles obstructed her view.

But as she stared, she realized that the shiny spheres were vanishing one by one, leaving patches of clear water in their wake.

And if she let her gaze drift down a little farther under the water she could just barely see…

Skittering back another three steps, Aileana began to pace. “Perhaps you’d better be getting dressed now. I’ve something of importance to discuss with you.”

“Aye, the water’s taking on a bit of a chill—though the room seems warmer, somehow, since you came in to see me.”

His eyes sparkled quicksilver, and the lilting quality of his voice sent a tingle up her spine. If she didn’t know better, she’d guess that Duncan MacRae was dallying with her.

Heat rose in her cheeks. Ridiculous. She heard him get out of the tub behind her. Careful to keep her gaze averted, she walked toward the windows and began to unloose the ties that held the curtains back, intending to let them fall shut and give him some privacy.

“Do not do that.”