Duncan pulled the cover up over the two of them. He was about to put his arm around her waist and move her closer to him, but Madelyne was quicker. She scooted up against him, until her backside was snuggled up most intimately against the junction of his thighs.
Duncan smiled. Lady Madelyne had obviously become accustomed to having him near, too, and his arrogant grin was all because he knew she wasn't aware of it… yet.
* * *
Chapter Seven
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"A soft answer turneth away wrath."
old testament, proverbs, 15:1
Madelyne slept almost twenty-four hours. When she finally opened her eyes, the room was cast in afternoon shadows with only a few streamers of sunlight filtering through the wooden shutters. Everything looked hazy to Madelyne, and she felt so disoriented that she couldn't remember where she was.
She tried to sit up in bed, grimaced against the sting that movement caused her, and remembered every bit of it then.
Lord, she felt awful. Every muscle in her body ached. Madelyne thought someone might have taken a stick to her backside, or glued a hot iron rod against the side of her leg. Her stomach grumbled, but she didn't want anything to eat. No, she was just terribly thirsty and blazing hot. All she wanted was to tear off her clothes and stand in front of an open window.
That idea seemed perfectly wonderful. She tried to get out of bed to open the shutters, yet was too weak even to kick the covers out of her way. She kept on trying until she realized she wasn't wearing her own clothes. Someone had removed them, and while that fact did offend her sense of modesty, it wasn't nearly as alarming as the realization that she had absolutely no memory of the deed.
Madelyne was now wearing a white cotton shirt of some kind, an indecent garment to be sure, for it barely covered her knees. The sleeves were too long though. When she tried to fold the fabric back to her wrists, she remembered where she'd seen such a garment before. Why, it was a man's shirt, and from its gigantic proportions around the shoulders, obviously belonged to Duncan. It was the same all right; Duncan had been wearing an identical shirt when he had slept beside her in the tent the night before… or was it two nights past now? Madelyne was too sleepy to remember. She decided to close her eyes for another minute to think about it
She had the most peaceful dream. Madelyne was eleven years old again and living with her dear uncle, Father Berton. Father Robert and Father Samuel had come to Grinsteade manor to visit her uncle and to pay their respects to old man Morton, lord of Grinsteade manor. Aside from the peasants who worked Baron Morton's small land holding, Madelyne was the only young person in residence. She was surrounded by gentle, kind men, and all old enough to be her grandfather. Both Father Robert and Father Samuel had come from the overcrowded Claremont monastery. Lord Morton offered them permanent quarters. The old man had taken quite a liking to Father Berton's friends. Both were excellent chess players, and both enjoyed listening to the baron recount his favorite stories of the past. Madelyne was surrounded by doting old men who believed her to be a most gifted child. They took turns teaching her how to read and write, and Madelyne's dream centered on one particularly peaceful evening. She sat at the table and read to her "uncles" from the writings she had transcribed. A fire blazed in the hearth and there was a warm, tranquil atmosphere in the room. Madelyne was retelling an unusual story, that of the adventures of her favorite hero, Odysseus. The mighty warrior kept her company during her smiling down at her as she recounted the wonderful events of his long journey.
The next time she awakened, and surely only a few minutes had passed since she had decided to rest for just a bit, Madelyne immediately realized that someone had actually tied her eyelids shut. "How dare I be treated this way?" She muttered the outrage aloud, to no one in particular.
The binding was wet too. Madelyne ripped the offending restraint off her with an expletive worthy of a bawdy peasant. Odd, but she thought she heard someone laugh then. She tried to concentrate on the sound, when her mind was turned again. Damn if another binding wasn't slapped against her forehead. That didn't make sense at all. Hadn't she just removed it? She shook her head over the confusion of it all.
Someone spoke to her, but she couldn't understand what he was saying. If he would stop whispering and quit garbling every word, it would make it so much easier. She thought whoever was speaking to her was being terribly rude and yelled just that opinion.
Madelyne suddenly remembered how hot she was, when another cover was weighed down on her shoulders. She knew she had to get to the window and breathe some of the healing cold air. It was the only thing that would save her from this heat. Why, if she hadn't known better, she would have thought she was in purgatory. But she was a good girl and that couldn't be true. No, she was going to heaven, damn if she wasn't.
Why couldn't she open her eyes? She felt someone tug on her shoulders and then a drink of cool water touched her parched lips. Madelyne tried to take a long gulp, but the water suddenly vanished after she had tasted only a small, puny portion. Someone was out to play a cruel trick on her, she decided, frowning as ferociously as she could manage under the circumstances.
All of a sudden, everything became crystal-clear. Why, she was in Hades, not purgatory, and at the mercy of all the monsters and demons who tried to trick Odysseus. Now they tried to trick her. Well, she told herself, she was having none of it. The idea of these demons didn't upset Madelyne at all.
Quite the contrary. She became absolutely infuriated. Her uncles had lied to her. The stories of Odysseus weren't falsehoods or legends passed down from generation to generation. The monsters did exist. She could feel them surrounding her, just waiting for her to open her eyes.
And just where was Odysseus? she demanded to know. How dare he leave her alone to fight his demons? Didn't he understand what he was supposed to do? Hadn't anyone told him about his own triumphs?
Madelyne felt someone touch her thigh, interrupting her disgruntled thoughts. She knocked off the new binding scorching her eyes and turned her head just in time to see who was kneeling beside her bed. She screamed then, an instinctive reaction to the horrible one-eyed giant looking at her with such a smirk on his distorted face, and then she remembered she was angry, not frightened. It was one of the Cyclops all right, maybe even their leader, Polyphemus, the most despicable of them all, and out to get her if she'd allow it.
Madelyne made a fist and struck the giant a powerful blow. She aimed for his nose, missed it by an inch or two, but was just as satisfied. The action exhausted her and she fell back against the mattress, suddenly as weak as a kitten. There was a smug smile on her face, however, for she had heard Polyphemus let out a howl of distress.
Madelyne turned her head away from the Cyclops, determined to ignore the monster poking at her thigh. She looked over at the hearth. And then she saw him. Why, he was standing right in front of the fire, with light shining all around his magnificent body. He was much bigger than she had imagined him to be, and much more attractive. But then, he wasn't mortal, she tried to remind herself. She guessed that fact accounted for his giant proportions and the mystical light glowing all around him. "And just where have you been?" she demanded with a yell meant to gain his attention.
Madelyne wasn't sure if mythological warriors could converse with mere mortals, quickly surmised that this one didn't, or wouldn't, because he just continued to stand there and stare at her, and didn't offer a single word in answer to her demand.
She thought to try again, though she found it a terribly exasperating task. There was a Cyclops right beside her, for God's sake, and even if the warrior couldn't speak to her, he could see that there was work to be done. "Get on with it, Odysseus," Madelyne demanded, pointing her finger at the monster kneeling beside her.
Damn if he didn't just stand there and look confused. For all his size and might, he didn't appear to be overly intelligent. "Must I fight every battle on my own?" she demanded to know, raising her voice until the musc
les in her neck began to ache from the strain. Tears of frustration clouded her vision, but she couldn't help that. Odysseus was trying to vanish into the light. How very rude of him, she thought.
She couldn't allow him to disappear. Dimwitted or not, he was all she had. Madelyne tried to placate him. "I promise to forgive you for all the times you let Louddon hurt me, but I'll not forgive you if you leave me alone now."
Odysseus didn't seem overly concerned with gaining her forgiveness. She could barely see him now, knew he'd soon be gone, and realized she'd have to increase her threats if she was going to get any help from him.
"If you leave me, Odysseus, I'll send someone after you to teach you some manners. Aye," she added, warming to her threat. "I'll send the most fearsome of all warriors. Just you leave and see what happens! If you don't get rid of him," she declared, pausing in her threat to point dramatically at the Cyclops a long moment, "I'll send Duncan after you."
Madelyne was so satisfied with herself that she closed her eyes with a sigh. She had surely put the fear of Zeus into the most magnificent of creatures, the powerful Odysseus, by pretending to send Duncan after him. She let out a rather inelegant snort over her cleverness.
She peeked a quick look back out of one eye to see how her threat was being taken, and smiled with victory. Odysseus looked worried. And that, Madelyne suddenly decided, wasn't good enough. If he was going to fight a Cyclops, he'd need to be good and angry. "Duncan is really a wolf, you understand, and he'll tear you to shreds if I tell him to," she boasted. "He'll do anything I ask," she added, "Just like that." Madelyne tried to snap her fingers together but couldn't quite manage the feat.
She closed her eyes again, feeling as though she'd just won an important battle. And all with gentle words, she reminded herself. She hadn't used any force at all. "I am ever a gentle maiden," she shouted. "Damn, if I'm not."
For three long days and nights Madelyne fought the mythological monsters who appeared and try to snatch her away to Hades. Odysseus was always there, by her side, helping her ward off each attack when she demanded it.
At times the stubborn giant even conversed with her. He liked to question her about her past, and when she understood what he was asking, she'd immediately answer him. Odysseus seemed most interested in a specific time of her childhood. He wanted her to tell what it had been like after her mother had died and Louddon had taken over her guardianship.
She hated answering those questions. She wanted to talk only about her life with Father Berton. Yet she didn't want Odysseus to become angry and leave her either. For that reason, she suffered through his gentle interrogation. "I don't want to talk about him." Duncan was jarred awake by Madelyne's vehement outburst. He didn't know what she was ranting about now but quickly went to her bed. He sat down next to Madelyne and took her into his arms. "Hush now," he whispered. "Go back to sleep, Madelyne."
"When he made me come back from Father Berton's home, he was so horrible. He'd sneak into my room every night. He'd just stand there, at the foot of the bed. I could feel him staring at me. I thought that if I opened my eyes… I was very afraid."
"Don't think about Louddon now," Duncan said. He stretched out on the bed as soon as she began to cry and pulled her into his arms.
Though he was careful to hide his reaction, inside he was shaking with rage. He knew Madelyne didn't understand what she was telling him, but he understood well enough. Soothed by his touch, Madelyne fell asleep again. She didn't rest long, however, and awakened to find Odysseus was still there, keeping vigil. She wasn't afraid when he was by her side. Odysseus was the most wonderful warrior. He was strong, arrogant, though she didn't fault him for that flaw, and filled with a good heart.
He was full of mischief too. His favorite game was to change his appearance. It would happen so quickly, Madelyne didn't even have time to draw a breath of surprise. One minute he pretended to be Duncan and the next he was back to being Odysseus again. And once, during the dark hours of the night, when Madelyne was most afraid, he actually changed himself into Achilles, just to amuse her. He was sitting there, in a straight-back wooden chair that was entirely too little for his size and bulk, just looking at her in the most peculiar way.
Achilles wasn't wearing his boots. That worried her and she immediately cautioned him to protect his heels from injury. Achilles looked confused by her suggestion, forcing Madelyne to remind him that his mama had dipped him headfirst in the magical waters of Styx, making all of him invincible, save for the tiny bit of flesh on the backs of his heels, where she'd held on to him so he wouldn't be swept away by the swirling waters.
"The water didn't touch your heels, and that is where you are most vulnerable," she instructed him. "Do you understand my meaning?"
She decided he didn't understand at all. His puzzled look told her as much. Perhaps his mama hadn't taken the time to tell him the story. Madelyne sighed and gave him a sad, pitying look. She knew what was going to happen to Achilles, yet didn't have the heart to tell him to beware of stray arrows. She guessed he'd find out soon enough.
Madelyne started to weep over Achilles's future, when he suddenly stood up and walked over to her. But he wasn't Achilles now. Nay, it was Duncan taking her into his arms and soothing her. Odd, but his touch felt just like Odysseus's.
Madelyne nagged Duncan into getting into bed beside her, then immediately rolled on top of him. She propped her head on his chest so she could look into his eyes. "My hair is like a curtain," she told him, "hiding your face from everyone but me. What think you of that, Duncan?"
"So I am Duncan once again, am I?" he answered. "You don't know what you're saying, Madelyne. You burn with fever. That is what I think," he added.
"Are you going to call a priest?" Madelyne asked. Her question upset her and tears filled her eyes.
"Would you like that?" Duncan asked.
"Nay," Madelyne bellowed right into his face. "If a priest be called, I'll know I'm dying. I'm not ready to die yet, Duncan. There's too much to do."
"And what would you like to do?" Duncan asked, smiling over her ferocious expression.
Madelyne suddenly leaned down and rubbed her nose against Duncan's chin. "I think I would like to kiss you, Duncan. Does that make you angry?"
"Madelyne, you must rest," Duncan said. He tried to roll her to her side, but she proved to be as clinging as a vine. Duncan didn't force her, concerned he might accidentally hurt her. In truth, he liked her just where she was.
"If you kiss me just once, then I'll rest," she promised. She didn't give him time to respond but slapped her hands on both sides of his face and pressed her face against his. Lord, did she kiss him then. Her mouth was hot, open, and thoroughly arousing. It was such a lustful, passionate kiss, Duncan couldn't help but respond. His arms slowly slipped around her waist. When he felt warm skin, he realized her skirt had ridden up. His hands stroked her soft buttock and it wasn't long before he was caught up in a fever of his own.
Madelyne was wild and thoroughly undisciplined when she kissed him. Her mouth slanted over his, her tongue penetrated and stroked until she was breathless.
"When I kiss you, I don't want to stop. 'Tis sinful, isn't it?" she asked Duncan.
He noticed she didn't look particularly remorseful over her admission and assumed the fever had rid her of her inhibitions. "I have you flat on your back, Duncan. I could have my way with you if I wanted."
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…