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His piercing tone made her jump. She whirled to face him, surprised to see that his usual hard expression had returned.

He’d wrapped the linen towel round his waist, though water still dripped down his chest and from the ends of his fingers.

His right hand was hidden beneath the plaid and tunic he held in obvious preparation to don.

“Why not? Do you prefer that the entire clan watch you dress in front of your extravagant display of glass?”

“Just let it be.”

Impatience shoved at the already tattered remnants of her composure. She stared at him. Why would he take issue with something so simple? Throwing up her hands, she walked over to the one open window and prepared to close it, so that he at least wouldn’t freeze from the chill air as he dressed.

“Nay!”

She snapped her gaze to him again, incredulous. “Now you wish to catch your death of cold as well as lose all modesty?”

Though his eyes hardened further, Duncan didn’t answer; he turned from her to pull his long-sleeved tunic over his head.

The linen towel slid from beneath the garment to fall damply on the floor.

He didn’t respond to her question until he’d knotted his plaid and slipped on his familiar, leather gloves.

Then his voice was quiet, full of some emotion Aileana couldn’t identify. “I like the light. I like the fresh air.” His expression darkened, and he glanced away. “There is much that I could command as laird of the MacRaes that I do not ask for. But this I need. Leave it at that.”

He turned to gather his leather bag of provisions, along with his claymore. He was going to go away again, curse him!

Aileana snapped her mouth shut and stalked over to him. “I do not wish to talk with you about your privileges as laird. I came here for another reason entirely, and you’ll hear me out before you go off on another one of your endless excursions to raid the other clans.”

Duncan swung slowly around, weariness and something else—was it acceptance?—weighing down every inch of his taut, muscular frame. “Get on with it, then, Aileana. I’ve much to attend to before we set out against the MacLeods this eve.”

“I’m sure you do, though in matters not related to fighting, I’d wager.

” Facing him with hands on her hips, she fired a look at him that would melt iron.

“I’m here to tell you one thing, Duncan MacRae.

I’ll put up with your crass treatment of me in front of your clan and your bitter silence behind closed doors, but I will not allow you to humiliate me by bedding Nora MacKenzie every night that I’m forced to live in your accursed holding as your leman. ”

Fingers of shock threaded from the top of Duncan’s skull down the rest of his body. Bed Nora MacKenzie ? The last time he’d lain with her or any woman had been at least a fortnight before his attack on Aileana’s clan. Why would she think otherwise? He narrowed his gaze.

“My bedding Nora or not has nothing to do with you.”

“Aye, it does.” She glared at him. “Even without considering the shame you hope to bring on me by openly favoring her over me, we cannot very well convince both my clan and yours that I’m your leman in truth, as you insisted we must, if you’re spending every night with her.”

Slowly, Duncan set down his bag and his claymore, and the blade made a clattering sound against the floor. He straightened again, thinking all the while. Aileana believed that he’d taken another woman to his bed, and it angered her.

The thought sent a strange tingle of pleasure through him.

She was jealous. He forced himself to push the thought aside, trying to focus instead on the matter at hand.

Of course her argument held no logic. He spent enough time with her in the early hours of each morning to make intimacy between them not only possible but also likely to anyone who cared to notice.

Still, nettling her sense of fairness might work to his advantage.

He could use it to prod her into telling him where she’d hidden the Ealach .

Leaning back against an oak table that had been in his clan’s possession for five generations, he said, “Bedding Nora MacKenzie or anyone else does not nullify your position as my leman. I’m fully capable of satisfying other women and still taking my pleasure with you.

” He raised his brow, nodding. “Any of my kin, and likely yours as well, are aware of that fact.”

Aileana gasped, but Duncan continued, “I told you when you came to Eilean Donan that I wanted the Ealach back. You’re hiding it. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make you tell me where it is—including shaming you by openly seeking my pleasure with other women, if need be.”

He shifted his gaze so that he wouldn’t see her reaction, forcing himself to keep talking and staring into the flames of the fire to distract himself.

“We’re locked in a game you cannot win, Aileana MacDonell.

Just tell me where you’ve hid the amulet and be done with it.

Then you can leave in peace, and this humiliation will be over. ”

“My disgrace will continue long after I leave, MacRae, as well you know,” Aileana answered flatly. “You’ve ensured that with this unholy bargain between us.” All the passion had left her, and her voice echoed cold and hollow like the whisper of a ghost.

Duncan couldn’t stop himself from looking at her then, feeling a jab in his gut at the desolation he saw in her eyes.

He hadn’t allowed himself to think about that, but of course she was right.

By living with him as leman, even if only in name, she’d never again be considered fit as another man’s wife.

He struggled against the urge to comfort her, to reach out and fold her into his embrace.

To quell the feeling, he moved past her and gazed at the breathtaking view of the loch beyond his windows.

Don’t be a fool, he told himself. She’d never accept solace from him.

Not when he’d been the very cause of her disgrace.

But he’d had good reason for what he’d done.

Her sister and her clan had brutalized his life and stolen what was his, and Aileana was adding to the injury by continuing to keep the Ealach from him.

All of this pain, all of this unpleasantness never had to be if she wasn’t so stubborn and unyielding.

Duncan willed his anger to take hold again.

He could not let kindness drive him, couldn’t let pity keep him from his goal.

Though he’d never permit physical harm to fall upon her, Aileana must be made to reveal where she’d hidden the amulet.

And if shame and underhanded tactics were needed to achieve that end, then he would use them.

“Giving me the amulet will make your life easier, if nothing else, Aileana,” Duncan said with grim finality.

“You’ll be better off in the bosom of kin who love you and want to protect you, rather than here, surrounded by people who wish you harm.

” He bent to pick up his bag and his claymore. “Think on it while I’m gone.”

The hurt in her eyes was too great to bear. Grief shadowed her face, and he couldn’t stop the renegade thought that such a thing was wrong, terribly wrong. That a proud, loyal woman like Aileana MacDonell should know nothing but joy and love.

Gritting his teeth, Duncan strode to the door. He couldn’t allow himself to reconsider anything that had passed between them. He wouldn’t.

So then why did he hurt like hell right now?

Before he could make the mistake of answering his own question, Duncan did the only thing he could think of doing—he pushed open the door and left, refusing even to nod to her in farewell.

Aileana rolled over on her pallet the next morning, restless, waiting for the cock in the yard to crow.

It was almost dawn, yet she knew she didn’t need to move into Duncan’s massive bed.

Whenever he was away, Bridgid left her alone to make a morning fire or not as she chose, using the opportunity as another way to show her disdain.

She was never outright neglectful, but her coldness spoke volumes nonetheless.

Duncan was right. His clan hated her and wished herill. All day yesterday and into the night, his words had churned in her mind, prodding her to a decision she’d been dreading to make. It certainly might have the power to change her life, she trusted for the better, but at what cost?

She allowed herself a grim smile. It wasn’t the choice Duncan had been hoping for; oh, no, she’d not reveal the hiding place of the amulet to him anytime soon.

Nay, she’d decided on a plan that he’d suggested himself on her second night here, though she’d known even then that he’d said it only because he thought her incapable of accomplishing the task.

She was going to make the wild, murdering MacRaes like her.

Rolling onto her back, Aileana pulled the covers to her chin and stared into the gray quiet of the chamber.

Silence and docility hadn’t worked with his obstinate clan.

Since her arrival she’d tried to behave as the calm woman that Father had worked so hard to create of her.

For all of her life, it had been a struggle for her to comply—a fight against her true nature—but where meek obedience had pleased Father, the MacRaes were using her efforts to be accommodating as simply another reason to overpower and isolate her.

How to make them like her, then…?

She was woefully inexperienced where such things were concerned.

At Dulhmeny, she’d been kept apart, treated with a kind of innate respect by anyone who saw her, regardless of whether or not she deserved it, thanks to her status as the keeper of the amulet.

She’d had no real chance to learn the skills required for friendship with others; anything she knew of human concord had been learned at the hands of her brothers or father, and her mother’s death had left her with little in the way of female guidance, except for Morgana.

After the Troubles and Morgana’s banishment, Father had tried to remove any remnants of her influence on Aileana with steely focus, using his own will to beat her into submission.

Sighing, Aileana moved her thoughts from the past to the here and now.

What about someone here at Eilean Donan to pattern her behavior after?

If she wanted to garner this clan’s respect, she’d do well to choose someone who’d achieved it already.

There was Duncan, of course, but he was their laird and a man as well.

Not the best comparison, for her purposes.

Was there a woman who might serve? There were many females at the castle. Too many, where Duncan was concerned. But there was only one that Aileana knew to be respected and obeyed by one and all.

Bridgid.

Pulling the covers over her head, Aileana groaned. With the exception of Nora, Bridgid was the last person she wanted to emulate. The woman barked orders, ran around in a fury and seemed annoyed most of the time.

Yet there had to be more to her than that. Rolling from her pallet, Aileana scuffled to the hearth and rekindled the fire. She ruminated as she worked, mulling the possibilities.

Bridgid was good with children. Aileana remembered her surprise the morning she’d seen Bridgid’s face wreathed in smiles because little Tom had brought her a posy from the glen.

Bridgid had patted the boy’s head and given him a cake from the larder when she thought no one was looking.

Then she’d scooted him off to play before reverting to her usual self and snapping an order to one of the kitchen workers.

Chewing her lip, Aileana eased herself into the chair in front of the now brightly crackling flames.

Bridgid occasionally showed other softer qualities as well.

Many in the clan came to her when they were sick, and she always made time without complaint.

She even seemed to know some of the healing properties to be obtained from certain plants and foods.

Here was a connection, Aileana thought. She herself had been a sort of healer at home, and the herbs from her garden, along with her status as keeper of the amulet, had inspired many of the folk to bring their sick up to the castle for her treatments.

Perhaps emulating Bridgid wouldn’t be as difficult as she feared. The bailie was like anyone else—a blend of prickle and puff. She helped those around her, but she also wasn’t afraid to vent her feelings and frustrations.

It was settled, then. Bridgid was the one.

Aileana dressed with an energy she hadn’t felt since she came to live with the MacRaes.

It might be the hardest thing she’d ever done, but she’d make them like and respect her.

And she’d have the double satisfaction of watching Duncan swallow his words, along with the gall that was sure to accompany it.

Anxiety fluttered in the pit of her stomach, though, as she prepared to descend to her fate.

The results could be no worse than what she’d been forced to endure already, she reasoned.

With any luck she’d be successful, and Duncan would see his extortion attempt had failed.

That, in and of itself, was a worthy goal.

And it was exactly what she needed to remember, she thought, as she took each step from the safety of her bedchamber toward the staring, unfriendly faces that waited for her in the kitchen below.