The corrosion of such dark emotions seemed strange to Duncan after the relative peace of these last weeks. But it was easily recalled in the face of the MacKenzie’s arrogance. Duncan felt a swelling of the same tension, the same savage rage that he’d experienced before his raid to steal back theEalach. Clenching his fist round his cup, Duncan let the feeling build, let it rise, until it blurred his vision beneath a veil of red.
At that moment his gaze fell upon Aileana. She stood in one corner of the great hall, partly obscured by the others who had come out to see the Chief of Kintail. But she hung back, almost as if she was afraid to be seen. At that moment a wicked thought took hold in Duncan’s mind. An idea to toy with the MacKenzie just as the man had played him for a fool. Duncan latched onto it in the heat of his rage, clinging to it, nurturing it until it emerged whole and perfect. Then he swung his gaze to the MacKenzie and smiled.
“I almost forgot. You’ve not been introduced to someone very important. Someone that I’m sure you’ll be interested in meeting.” Lifting his arm, Duncan stood and gestured to Aileana. “Come, lass,” he called to her across the hall. “The Chief of Kintail has arrived, and it would warm his heart to greet one of those fortunate enough to benefit from his generosity thirteen years ago.”
“Duncan,” Kinnon said quietly, trying to pull him back into his seat, “Don’t do this. Think on it, man, before it’s too late.”
“Nay,” Duncan growled under his breath. He faced the chief again, watching him closely as Aileana stepped into the light that filled the area around the table.
Though the MacKenzie did not gasp aloud, the blood seemed to drain from his cheeks. “What by all the fires of hell is this, MacRae?” he whispered. He could not seem to tear his gaze from Aileana’s face, as he set down his cup. “Why chide me when you yourself have resurrected the serpent and brought her to your bosom?”
Duncan watched the flush spread across Aileana’s face. He felt a brief flash of remorse, but he doused it. “It’s not as you think, MacKenzie.” Duncan stood again, pulling Aileana to him. Though she stiffened, her resistance was no match for his temper.
Reaching out, he stroked a tendril of soft, fiery hair that curled over her shoulder. “This is not the sorceress Morgana. It is her younger sister, the fair Aileana.”
The MacKenzie stared. Then he seemed to gain control of himself. Stepping forward, he nodded to her. “Forgive me, lady, for my lack of manners. They aren’t usually so remiss, but for a moment, I thought I was seeing a ghost.”
“It is of no matter, my lord,” Aileana murmured hoarsely.
“Is this a reconciliation visit you’re making to the MacRaes, then, lass? A gesture of goodwill between your clan and his?”
“Nay,” she answered, though her words were barely audible. “It is no visit. I live at Eilean Donan now.”
The MacKenzie looked stunned again. But then he shook off his amazement quickly, laughing and slapping Duncan’s shoulder. “You’re a scoundrel, to be sure, MacRae, pretending to hold your grudge against the MacDonells when you’ve arranged a marriage of peace with them. It’s a time-honored way to unite warring clans.” He sat back and grabbed his cup again. “Who’s the devil lucky enough to capture such a bride?”
“I am.” Duncan felt another tingle of success as the Chief snapped his gaze to him. He returned the stare. “But I didn’t take Aileana MacDonell as my wife…”
The hall went silent. Duncan let his hand drift along Aileana’s arm, close enough to her breast to make her gasp. He forced himself to remain unmoved when she pushed him back angrily, tears springing to her eyes.
Facing the chief again, he dropped his remaining words like cannon balls. “I took her as my leman.”
The silence thickened in the hall, rising up to strangle Aileana. She thought that shame would swallow her whole, leaving nothing but a patch of scorched stone where she’d been standing.
The MacKenzie also looked ready to choke, grasping for words that refused to come. He finally muttered, “I see,” then waved his empty cup in demand for something to drink.
With his utterance the room came to life again. A fierce buzzing began in Aileana’s ears. She seemed to be viewing the scene from a distance, yet so close that she felt smothered by it. Duncan stood to her right, though she saw only his rigid profile in her refusal to turn her eyes on him. But even through her shock, she noticed that Bridgid cast her a sympathetic look. Kinnon sat slumped in his chair, staring at the table. The hall’s other inhabitants moved and whispered in a dizzying swell of sight and sound. Everything slowed for Aileana as she turned to Duncan. Her cheeks burned and her lungs strained with the effort it took to keep breathing, to keep from crying her pain aloud.
In the instant that he met her gaze, she saw the hardness of his expression, took in the almost agonizing rigidity of his beautiful, scarred face. But something flickered in his eyes. A shadow passed through their depths, darkening the cold gray with what might have been a glimmer of regret. Heat burned her eyelids. It didn’t matter. Sorry or not, it didn’t change anything. Nothing mattered now, except the sense of degradation that Duncan had heaped on her.
Without making a sound, Aileana fled the hall, bursting into the courtyard and not stopping until she stumbled to the ground near the well. Cold scorched her lungs, and, once she was free of prying eyes, cries ripped from her throat, fueled by the swelling sense of injustice and rage. Wrapping her arms around her middle, Aileana edged to the far side of the well, hiding from the view of anyone who might come out of the castle. She rocked back and forth, her now soft keening distant in her own ears, the heat behind her eyes driving, bitter, desperate.
After a while the world started to come into focus again. The pain eased. The tears stopped, and hurt faded to numbness. She sat still now, staring ahead with nothing but a huge, bleak hole inside of her that threatened to smother her in darkness.
It had been so cruel.
Duncan had treated her like a whore in front of his entire clan. In front of Bridgid and Kinnon and the MacKenzies. And it hurt all the more because she’d thought that the two of them had reached an uneasy truce, a certain level of understanding. Thought that he felt some kind of tenderness for her.
She’d thought.
Why think at all, twit? You’re his leman, nothing more. That he hasn’t made you so in truth is but a trifle to anyone. If they’d even believe it.
Rubbing her hand across her nose, Aileana blinked. But the tears just kept flowing. Duncan’s act today had been purposely callous. Worse, even, than his treatment of her that first day in the forest, for she’d been running from him then, concealing what he thought was his. Today she’d done nothing to warrant such abuse. She’d—
“The repaired wall is over there. I’ll be but a moment getting the plans, and then I’ll meet you loch-side.”
Aileana sat up a little straighter, brushing her fingers across her eyes again and twisting around, enough to see who spoke without being seen herself.
Her gaze narrowed. It was as she thought. Duncan led the MacKenzie and a few of his men into the yard.Overbearing wretch. She watched as he showed off the work he’d completed on his precious castle. It was the only thing he truly cared about after all—his pile of rock and stone.
