Duncan stood massive and imposing in the shadows of the doorway. His gold-flecked hair waved to his shoulders; the chiseled set of his face was unreadable. With slow, even steps, he walked closer to the fire, loosened his shirt, and sank into the chair perched before the blaze, still facing her.
Aileana’s gaze slipped to the expanse of sleekly muscled chest that showed through the parted edges of his shirt. Firelight danced over his skin, honing powerful ridges and contours and illuminating several jagged scars that rippled from the top of his chest to the flat planes of his belly. He looked casual and relaxed, his clothing impeccably clean and well crafted, and as unlike his war gear as this embroidered chemise was to her borrowed soldier garb.
“Come here.”
His soft command sliced the silence, and Aileana’s gaze jerked up to his face. The jagged scar that ran along his cheek seemed faded in the shadows. But his smoky gray eyes studied her in the firelight, making her heart beat in staccato and her breath catch. Vaguely she noticed that he still wore his leather gloves; they matched a dark stripe in the swath of plaid draped in folds round his hips. Forcing herself forward, she walked step by step until she stood in front of him, steeling herself for what would come next.
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 mybairnson 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. “Yourtorture, 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 theEalachto 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 theEalachmeant 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 theEalachand 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.
