Free Mary Reed McCall by The Sweetest Sin Page B

difficult task still lay ahead of him. At the top of the curved steps, in what used to be the haven of his bedchamber, Aileana MacDonell lay in wait to ruin his sleep for a second night in a row.
    He stole a wistful glance toward the end of the hall. Several of his people sat around the massive fireplace to hear the clan senachie tell tales of battles fought during times of old, when the MacRaes had first pledged their allegiance to the great MacKenzie overlords.
    The bard painted a glorious picture of Duncan’s ancestor, Lachlan MacRae, who’d joined in a bloody battle when the MacKenzie was protecting Wester Ross from the MacDonalds; Lachlan killed many in the conflict, crowning his victory by slaying a MacDonald chief. Then he sat on the body in the middle of the battlefield. When the MacKenzie saw him there and asked why he fought no more, Lachlan had replied that if everyone killed as many MacDonalds as he had that day, the MacKenzies would win the day.
    Duncan frowned. Would that he’d been so sensible in his response when Robert MacDonell had asked him if he wanted to take Aileana in payment for Gavin’scrimes. His mouth tightened. But stubbornness had prevailed over common sense, inciting him to meet the challenge with one of his own. Greedy for revenge, he’d added insult to the harm he was about to inflict. And now he was stuck with Aileana MacDonell because of it.
    There was nothing redeeming about this mess. He couldn’t even bed her. Memories of the evil her clan had wrought made that unthinkable. Yet at the same time, Kinnon was right in believing that his conscience wouldn’t allow him to stand idle while others abused or insulted her. Revenge or no, he couldn’t stomach it.
    He clenched his jaw and looked down at his right hand, flexing it against the warm, smooth leather of his glove. Aye, it was a fine mess. And there was no way out of it that he could see, save finding a way to make Aileana MacDonell give him the Ealach and go home.
    The sound of laughter pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked again toward the gathering at the hall’s end. One of the village wenches had hopped onto Angus’s lap and was winding her arms round his neck in invitation.
    A pang shot through him. For thirteen years in the hell of the Tower he’d longed for such warmth. Not only for the release to be found in a woman’s softness, though that need drove him the same as any man. Nay, more, even, he’d ached for the simple want of touch, the peace to be found in a loving woman’s embrace. He craved the perfect sense of belonging he’d been so close to knowing with Mairi before she’d been killed.
    He’d loved Mairi in the way of youth, the emotion sharp and sweet, but it had never come to full fruition. When he’d returned from captivity, he’d sought out female companionship, eager to feel again, to have something other than the grinding pain of regret and vengeancetwisting in his gut. But every time he looked into their faces he’d seen it. The shadow of fear. His scarred face and ruined hand made them shudder.
    Nay, being with women only left him feeling more alone and more aware of the truth—that if Nora or Tyra or any of the other women warmed his bed, it was due to their respect for his position as the MacRae or the pleasure he might give them, nothing more.
    More laughter and cheers rose from the senachie ’s corner, and Duncan pushed himself to his feet. He had to leave. Self-pity was an emotion he rarely indulged, and that he had just now surprised him. But he couldn’t afford to dwell on the past; his present difficulties demanded attention and would wait no longer.
    By the time he reached his chamber, he’d decided on how he would approach Aileana and what he would say to her. He wasn’t a heartless man, and that was going to make this conversation unpleasant for him as well as for her. But she was too upsetting to the balance of his life, and if getting her to admit where she’d hidden the