It was hot. The heat from the conjure fire rose in silky, undulating waves to caress Morgana’s naked body. She hunched motionless over the flames, murmuring the incantation, her gaze fixed as she concentrated on the image beginning to form from the depths of the glowing ash; a ball of blue light rolled to the surface and burst forth, spinning and taking shape. For an instant it hung suspended there, a perfect replica of the amulet. Then it dropped back with a faint popping sound and a release of stinging, acrid smoke.
Shaking herself from the trance, Morgana uncurled her body from the cramped position of meditation and stood. She stretched, catlike, and reached for the silken robe she’d draped over the only chair in this ruined castle’s tower room. The fabric slid cool and smooth over her heated flesh, and she knotted the belt before summoning Iona. Only after the serving girl left did Morgana allow herself the briefest of smiles. Her visions were powerful and rarely wrong; theEalachwas vulnerable at last, outside of Dulhmeny’s walls for the first time since she’d been banished to this forsaken place. It was unprotected by a keeper and there for the taking.
The creaking door interrupted further musings. Colin strode into the room and grimaced. “How can you abide this heat? It’s like roasting in Hades.”
Morgana said nothing as she walked over to him, smoothing her hands up the powerful length of his arms and across his chest to weave in the golden tangle of hair at his nape. He gave a low growl and bent to kiss her neck, murmuring, “Iona didn’t tell me it was loving you were after.”
Arching her back, Morgana leaned into him and closed her eyes. If she kept them shut it was easier to pretend that it was Duncan who held her, that it was his strength supporting her, loving her…quenching the burning desires that beat with every pulse of her blood. For thirteen years she’d satisfied herself this way, with Colin none the wiser. But now was not the time. Pulling back, she pushed his groping hands away from her breasts.
Colin frowned, making the scar that disappeared beneath his eye patch whiten. She stared at the patch, remembering. Reliving the moment when Duncan had struck down his brother before he himself fell senseless on the altar during their attack on his wedding day.
Colin had lost his eye because of that blow.
Running her finger lightly above it, along his brow, Morgana let a slow, sweet smile curve her lips. Then she tilted her head to meet his gaze. “Finally, Colin. The needing, the waiting…it’s all over. TheEalachis to be ours once more.”
Raising herself on tiptoe, she pulled his head closer until her lips brushed against him, her breath whispering over his ear like a lover’s caress. “It’s time, my darling, for vengeance.”
Chapter 6
Aileana 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 lying; 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 whathadhe 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?
