Duncan sighed in exasperation. The sigh turned into a groan, however, when Madelyne snatched his hand and boldly placed it over one of her breasts.
'Nay, Madelyne,' Duncan muttered, though he didn't take his hand away. God, she felt so warm. The nipple hardened when his thumb instinctively rubbed against it. He groaned again. ' 'Tis not the time for loving. You don't know what you're doing to me, do you?' he asked then. Lord, his voice sounded as harsh as the howling wind outside.
Madelyne immediately started to cry. ' Duncan? Tell me that I matter to you. Even if it's a lie, tell me anyway.'
'Aye, Madelyne, you matter to me,' Duncan answered. He wrapped his arms around her waist and rolled her to his side. ' 'Tis the truth.'
He knew he had to put some distance between them, else lose this battle of sweet torture. Yet he couldn't help but kiss her once again.
The action seemed to placate her. Before Duncan could draw another shaky breath, Madelyne had fallen asleep.
The fever ruled Madelyne's mind and Duncan 's life. He dared not leave her alone with Gilard or Edmond. When her passionate nature asserted itself, he didn't want either of his brothers to be the recipient of her kisses. No one was going to offer comfort to Madelyne in those uninhibited moments but him.
The demons finally left Madelyne during the third night On the morning of the fourth day she awakened feeling as wrung out as one of the damp cloths littering the floor. Duncan was sitting in the chair beside the fireplace. He looked exhausted. Madelyne wondered if he'd taken ill. She was about to ask him that question, when he suddenly noticed she was staring at him. He bounded to his feet with the quickness of a wolf and came to stand beside the bed. Odd, but she thought he looked relieved.
'You've had the fever,' Duncan announced. His voice was gruff.
'So that is why my throat aches,' Madelyne said. Lord, she barely recognized her own voice. It sounded hoarse, felt raw.
Madelyne looked around the room, took in the clutter surrounding her. She shook her head in confusion. Had a battle taken place here while she slept?
When she turned back to ask Duncan about the chaos, she caught his amused expression.
'Your throat is paining you?' he asked.
'You find it amusing my throat hurts?' Madelyne asked, disgruntled over his unkind reaction.
Duncan shook his head, denying her accusation. Madelyne wasn't at all convinced. He was still grinning.
Heavens, he did look fit this morning. Duncan was dressed in black, an austere color to be sure, yet when he smiled, those gray eyes didn't look cold or intimidating. He reminded her of someone, but she couldn't think who that would be. Madelyne was certain she'd remember meeting anyone who remotely resembled the Baron Wexton. Still, there was an elusive memory of someone else…
Duncan interrupted her concentration. 'Now that you're awake, I'll send a servant to tend to you. You're not going to leave this room until you're healed, Madelyne.'
'Was I very ill?' Madelyne asked.
'Aye, you were very ill,' Duncan admitted. He turned and walked to the door.
Madelyne thought he was in quite a hurry to get away from her. She pushed a clump of hair out of her eyes and stared at Duncan 's back. 'Lord, I must look as messy as a mop,' she muttered to herself. 'Aye, you do,' Duncan answered. She could hear the smile in his voice. She frowned over his rudeness and then called out, ' Duncan? How long did I have the fever?'
'Over three days, Madelyne.'
He turned back to catch her reaction. Madelyne looked astonished. 'You don't recall any of it, do you?' he asked. Madelyne shook her head, totally bewildered now, because Duncan was smiling again. He was such a strange man, finding humor in the oddest things.
' Duncan?'
'Aye?'
She caught the exasperation in his voice and bristled over it 'Were you here all three days? In this room with me?'
He began to pull the door closed behind him. Madelyne didn't think he was going to answer her question until his voice rang out, firm and insistent.
'I was not.'
The door slammed shut behind him.
Madelyne didn't think he was telling the truth. She couldn't remember what had happened, yet instinctively knew Duncan hadn't left her side.
Why had he denied it? 'What a contrary man you are,' Madelyne whispered. There was a smile in her voice.
Chapter Eight
'Prove all things, hold fast that which is good.'
Madelyne sat on the side of her bed, willing strength back into her legs. A timid knock sounded at the door just a few minutes after Duncan had left. Madelyne called out and a servant entered the room. The woman was parchment-thin and haggard-looking, with stooped shoulders and lines of worry creasing her wide forehead. As the servant approached the bed, her steps became labored.
The servant looked ready to bolt, and it suddenly dawned on Madelyne that she might be afraid. The woman kept giving longing glances toward the door.
Madelyne smiled, trying to ease the servant's discomfort, though she was puzzled over her timid behavior.
The woman held something behind her back. She slowly made the satchel visible and then blurted out, 'I've brung your baggage, milady.'
''Tis most kind of you.' Madelyne answered.
She could tell her compliment pleased the woman. She didn't look as worried now, only a bit confused.
'I don't know why you are so afraid of me,' Madelyne said, deciding to face the problem head on. 'I'll not harm you, I can promise you that. What have the Wexton brothers told you to make you so frightened?'
Madelyne's bluntness eased the tension in the woman's posture. 'They didn't tell me nothing, milady, but I ain't deaf. I could hear the yelling going on up here all the way down to the buttery, and you was doing the most of it.'
'I was yelling?' Madelyne was horrified over such a suggestion. Surely the woman was mistaken.
'You was,' the servant answered, nodding her head vigorously. 'I knew you had the fever and couldn't help what you was doing. Gerty's bringing you food in a minute. I'm to help you change your clothes, if that be your want.'
'I am hungry,' Madelyne remarked. She flexed her legs, testing their strength. 'I'm also as weak as an infant. By what name are you called?'
'Me name's Maude, after the queen,' she announced. 'The dead one, of course, since our King William ain't taken a wife yet.'
Madelyne smiled. 'Maude, do you think I might manage a bath? I feel so sticky.'
'A bath, milady?' Maude looked horrified by the idea. 'In the dead of winter?'
'I'm accustomed to taking a bath every day, Maude, and it does seem an eternity since I last-'
'A bath a day? Whatever for?'
'I just like to feel clean,' Madelyne answered. She took a good long look at the servant and decided the kind
