Page 19

Aileana looked down at her green overskirt, examin ing it with a critical eye; it still bore a smudge from the rasher of bacon that Nora had tipped into her this morning as they served breakfast. She rubbed the spot to no avail.

It would have to do. Her hand trembled as she smoothed her unruly hair back one last time.

Then, pushing open the door, she strode into the bedchamber.

Duncan stood with his hands linked behind his back, gazing out at the sun setting over the loch below. Clearing her throat lightly, Aileana waited for him to acknowledge her presence; she knew he was aware of her by the way he’d stiffened when she came into the room. But he remained silent.

“I’m here as you bid,” she murmured. “And I’m waiting to hear what you have to say to me.”

“Aye, you are waiting,” he answered quietly. He swung around to look at her, adding, “And if I wanted to be true to the point, I’d be making you do so for the full quarter hour as you did me.”

Aileana felt herself flush; his controlled dignity made her almost ashamed that she’d used such a ploy against him. Almost, but not quite.

She stood straighter. “I came when I was free, as I told you I would. You seem to be forgetting that I’m no fee post, paid to do your bidding at a moment’s notice.”

“Nay, you’re my leman , which under normal circumstances requires much, much more.”

She felt herself flushing a deeper hue, though she managed to retort, “It is by your command alone that we live a lie.”

Duncan’s gray eyes warmed to quicksilver. “Then you’re saying that you’d be in favor of a true joining between us?”

An image, hot and explicit, raced through Aileana’s mind, making her turn away from him.

She retreated to the relative safety of the hearth, trying to gather her thoughts, to remind herself of the new personality she’d vowed to project.

But the strange feeling that his suggestion had unfurled inside her continued to wind its way through her.

It was all she could do to slow her breathing to a normal pace.

Without looking at him she answered. “I’m not saying anything of the kind. I was just reminding you that your complaint about my service holds no weight, since it was you who dictated our terms.”

She heard the tread of his boots as he crossed the stone floor. When he brushed by her to sit in the chair opposite the hearth, she shivered. The tingle of awareness she felt was the result of her animosity toward him, she told herself, nothing more.

“Turn around.”

His command, uttered in a soft, authoritative tone, spurred her to compliance.

But when she faced him, another jolt of sensation swirled through her belly.

Duncan leaned back in the chair, studying her, his expression a mix of vulnerability and intensity.

The sun’s dying glow cast the room in warm shades, accenting the perfection of his scarred beauty.

His golden brown hair fell in waves, to shoulders that were draped with a length of colorful plaid on one side. The setting sun combined with the flicker of firelight to dance across his powerfully muscled forearms, and Aileana resisted the urge to smooth her fingers over his skin.

“You’re a sorceress, lass,” he murmured. “Different from your cursed sister, but a sorceress nonetheless.”

Uncertainty took Aileana’s breath away. Did he seek to mock her by invoking Morgana’s memory? Was he trying to trap her into saying something to damn herself and expose the Ealach ? Biting her lip to keep from trembling, she answered, “I—I do not understand what you mean.”

Duncan’s generous mouth tilted up on one side, heightening her impression of utter, sensual masculinity.

“I’m saying that you must have cast a spell on me when you came into this room, Aileana MacDonell, because until then I was ready to wring your neck with my bare hands.

And now…very different kinds of thoughts are filling my imagination. ”

Looking down, Aileana twined her fingers together and squeezed tight. Her heart thudded in a heavy cadence. What game did Duncan play? He couldn’t be in earnest. Mayhap she misread his intent altogether; perhaps her naiveté kept her from seeing the true meaning behind his enigmatic words.

Either way, it seemed best to withdraw to another, if more dangerous topic of conversation. Glancing back up at him, she stiffened her shoulders and asked, “What think you, then, of the changes I made at the castle while you were away?”

Duncan’s gaze cooled slightly, and he sat up from his relaxed position to rest his forearms on his thighs. “I think that you acted with rash disregard. It’s the hows and whys of it I cannot figure.”

“I assure you, I undertook every change with fore-thought. None of it was acted upon with disregard.”

“Then mayhap you’ll explain to me why you felt the need to do anything at all.”

Duncan sat composed, quite unlike the obdurate tyrant she’d expected he’d be.

She looked down again, toying with the answer she’d planned to give as reason for instigating the changes, and remembering the insults she’d intended to drop on him concerning the sloth and disorder of his clan.

But she found that those excuses sounded petty now, even in her own mind.

Glancing at him from the side of her gaze, Aileana realized that Duncan was working a magic of his own on her.

Though she’d meant to needle him, to plot against him and keep him at arm’s length with her newfound boldness, his calm prevented her from doing anything of the kind.

In a strange way he even seemed to invite her confidence, along with something else she’d never experienced before from a man…

A request for honest discussion with her.

Warmth filled her, loosening her reserve and pressing her to tell Duncan MacRae the real reason she’d been driven to test her powers of persuasion on his clan.

The tripping throb of her pulse beat in her throat, and her mouth felt dry as she waged the silent war inside her.

It would be so easy to dissemble, to hide behind the same protective defenses she’d built over a lifetime of domination.

But something was pushing her in the opposite direction, urging her to trust, though by all rights Duncan was the last man she should consider trustworthy at this point.

“I—I do not know where to start,” she murmured, buying time to think.

He motioned for her to sit on the second chair near the fire. “Make yourself comfortable and start anywhere you like, lass. I’ll keep up.” His quicksilver eyes warmed again, piercing her with that same vulnerable, sensual quality as he took her hand in his own gloved one and eased her to the seat.

At the touch of the warm leather, all thinking stopped. A strange sensation tingled up Aileana’s arm and deep into the core of her, even more startling and pleasurable than what she’d felt when he’d brushed by her earlier. And then she knew that what had seemed impossible was about to happen.

She was going to tell Duncan the truth.

Moistening her lips, she let the words come.

“You told me once that your clan disliked me for the harm my sister and my people had done to them, but that if I worked very hard, I might learn to change their view of me.” Aileana wrapped her arms around her middle where she sat facing him.

“After you left to raid the MacLeods, I decided to do just that.”

The fire popped and crackled in the companionable silence. After a space, Aileana saw the corners of Duncan’s mouth twitch as if he wanted to smile. “Am I right in thinking your decision stemmed in part from a wish to spite me?”

A nervous laugh escaped her, and she nodded. “Aye. I admit that was one of my reasons.”

“And the others?”

The smile faded from Aileana’s lips, and she twisted her head to gaze into the fire. “The other reasons do not concern you.”

“Aye but they do, if they pushed you to act in matters of my clan without my knowledge. I demand the complete allegiance of every person living under my roof, Aileana, because I know too well what happens when a viper is allowed to dwell in secret among them. I will not let it happen again.”

Duncan sounded harsh, and Aileana glanced quickly at him. His expression had hardened, his jaw set in a rigid line that managed to condemn, convict, and sentence her in one fell swoop.

An answering hurt lanced into her heart, a wound that stemmed from constant lack of trust. Her own father had doubted her strength of character enough to lock her away from human company at the tender age of eight. Bridgid had all but outright accused her of witchery.

And now Duncan. It was almost as if he expected her to leap up from the hearth and slit his throat with a concealed dagger. Was she forever cursed to be judged by the evil standards Morgana had set so many years ago?

Bitterness scorched her as she said, “My sister is dead . Wicked though she was, can everyone not leave her at rest? Must you and the rest of your kin fire her sins at me like arrows every time you suspect my loyalty?”

“Your sister ruined many lives, Aileana, and if there is any justice, her soul burns in hell this very moment,” Duncan answered. “But I was never fool enough to let your sister abide with me and my people. It wasn’t her I was thinking of when I spoke.”

“Who, then?” Aileana challenged.

“My own brother, Colin MacRae.”

A cold chill slid down Aileana’s back. Duncan had a brother ? She’d never suspected such a thing—never even questioned the possibility in her mind. But what could one of Duncan’s own kin have done to earn his hatred on the same scale as Morgana?

“Where is this brother? Why haven’t I met him?”

“He’s dead.”

A horrible thought took hold of her, and before she could stop herself, she blurted, “Did you kill him?”