decided to remove that smile. 'Then I gave you all the names of the men I've taken to my bed, didn't I? The game is up, I suppose,' she ended with a sigh.
'Your game was up the moment we met,' Duncan told her. His voice was soft.
Madelyne felt as though she'd just been caressed. She didn't know how to react. 'And just what does that mean?'
Duncan smiled. 'You talk too much,' he told her. ' 'Tis yet another flaw you should work on.'
'That's ridiculous,' Madelyne returned. 'I've said little enough to you all week and you've ignored me altogether. How can you suggest I talk too much?' she asked, daring to poke his shoulder.
'I don't suggest anything. I state facts.' Duncan answered. He watched her closely, saw the flash of fire in her blue eyes.
Baiting her was easy work. He knew he should stop but he was actually enjoying the way she responded. He could find little harm in it. She was suddenly as feisty as a hellcat.
'It displeases you when I speak what's on my mind?'
Duncan nodded.
She thought he looked every bit the rascal now. A lock of dark hair had fallen forward to rest against his forehead. He was grinning too. Why, it was enough to rattle a saint into cursing. 'Then I'll just quit talking to you. I vow I'll never speak to you again. Does that please you?'
He nodded again, though much slower this time. Madelyne took a deep breath, preparing to tell him what she thought about his rudeness, but Duncan silenced her. He lowered his head and brushed his mouth against hers, startling her into temporary submission.
With barely any coaching, she opened her mouth to his insistent tongue. Duncan began to make slow love to her with his tongue. Lord, he could feel the fire in her. His hands spread wide against the sides of her face, his fingers tangling in her glorious hair.
God how he wanted her. The kiss quickly changed from gentle caress to wild passion. Their tongues mated again and again until Duncan was almost mindless with wanting more. He knew he should stop and was about to pull away, when he felt Madelyne's hands touch his back. A soft, hesitant caress it was and at first as skittish as a butterfly, but when Duncan growled and delved again into the sweetness of her mouth, the caress gained in pressure. Their mouths were hot, wet, clinging.
He felt a shudder pass through her, heard her ragged moan escape when he reluctantly eased himself away from her.
Madelyne's eyes were misty with passion and her lips, red and swollen, beckoned him to taste her again. Duncan knew he shouldn't have started what he couldn't finish. His loins throbbed with want and it took a supreme act of will to move away from her.
With another groan of frustration Duncan rolled to his side. He wrapped his arm around Madelyne's waist and pulled her up against him.
Madelyne wanted to weep. She couldn't understand why she kept letting him kiss her. More important, she couldn't seem to stop herself from kissing him. She was as wanton as a wench.
All Duncan had to do was touch her and she went to pieces. Her heart raced, her palms turned hot, and she was filled with a restless yearning for more.
She heard Duncan yawn and concluded then that the kiss hadn't meant much to him at all.
The man irritated her just like a rash. Madelyne determined to keep her distance from him even as she contradicted the decision by adjusting herself into the curve of Duncan. When she was almost settled to her satisfaction, Duncan let out a harsh groan. His hands moved to her hips and he held her firmly.
What a contrary man he was! Didn't he realize how awkward it was to sleep in her walking gown? She moved again, felt him shudder, and thought then that he might be getting ready to snap at her.
Madelyne was too weary to worry about his temper. With a yawn of her own, she fell asleep.
It was, without a doubt, Duncan 's most difficult challenge. And if she moved her backside just one more time, he knew he'd fail this test.
Duncan had never wanted a woman the way he wanted Madelyne. He closed his eyes and took a deep, ragged breath. Madelyne wiggled against him again, and he began to count to ten, promising himself that when he reached that magic number, he'd be more controlled.
The innocent cuddled up against him had absolutely no idea of her jeopardy. Her derriere had driven him to distraction all week long. He pictured the way she walked, saw again the gentle sway of her hips as she strolled around his fortress.
Did she affect others the way she affected him? Duncan frowned over that question, admitting that she most certainly did. Aye, he'd seen the looks his men had given her when her attention was directed elsewhere. Even faithful Anthony, his most trusted vassal and closest friend, had changed his attitude toward Madelyne. At the beginning of the week Anthony had been silent and taken to frowning, but by week's end Duncan noticed his vassal was usually the one speaking. And he didn't trail behind Madelyne any longer either. Nay, he was always right by her side.
Just where Duncan wanted to be.
He couldn't fault Anthony for his weakness in falling under Madelyne's charms.
Gilard, however, was of a different cloth altogether. It appeared that the youngest brother was taken with Madelyne. That could present a problem.
She started squirming again. Duncan felt as though he'd just been branded. A painful longing claimed his full attention. With a growl of frustration he threw off the covers and got out of bed. Though Madelyne was jarred by the sudden movement, she didn't wake up. 'Sleeps like an innocent babe,' Duncan muttered to himself as he walked over to the door.
He was going back to his lake and realized with a hefty shake of his head that he'd find true pleasure in this second swim.
Duncan wasn't a patient man. He wanted the issues resolved before he claimed Madelyne for his own though. He resigned himself to the fact that he'd probably be swimming in his lake more often. It wasn't a challenge that sent him outside now, but a release from the fire burning in his loins.
With a mutter of disgust, Duncan closed the door.
Chapter Twelve
A flower among thorns, an angel among thorns…
'And sometimes, Adela, if a babe was born with any noticeable flaw, why, the Spartan fathers would just throw the newborn child out a convenient window or off the top of a nearby cliff to get rid of him. Aye, I can see you're properly shocked, but my uncle Berton did relate the tales about those fierce warriors of times gone by, and he'd not exaggerate the telling just to please me. It was his duty to recount them with accuracy, you understand.'
'What were the Spartan ladies like? Did your uncle Berton tell you all about them?' Adela asked, her voice quite eager. Duncan 's little sister sat on the edge of her bed, trying her best to stay out of the way while Madelyne rearranged the furnishings in her bedroom. Adela had given up trying to convince Madelyne that it wasn't at all usual for her to work like a serving wench. Her new companion had a stubborn streak and it was useless to argue with her.
It had ben over three weeks since Madelyne had forced the confrontation with Adela. Once Adela had told the truth about her ordeal, the pain and guilt had truly lessened. Madelyne had been right about that. Madelyne hadn't seemed the least shocked by the story. Odd, but that helped Adela as much as the telling. Madelyne sympathized with Adela, yet she didn't pity her.
Now Adela followed Madelyne's lead, trusting her to know what was best. She accepted that the past couldn't be undone and tried to put it behind her, just as Madelyne suggested. That was easier said than done, of
