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see he regretted his
action, for he sighed heavily and ran his hand through his dark hair as if
exasperated with himself .
    "Forgive me, but you must speak if I'm to
help—"
    "I-I've no father."
    He stared at her mouth, the soft words she'd uttered
clearly confounding him. Growing uncomfortable at his scrutiny, she licked her
bottom lip, an action she promptly regretted for the way in which he continued
to study her, a deep frown forming between his brows.
    "No father?"
    Maire shook her head, more slowly this time than the
last, but even that made her temple ache.
    "Your godfather, then. You must have some
protector, a chieftain surely. Adele is too damned conscious of rank for it to
be otherwise—"
    "Truly, Duncan, do you always speak of me in such
a complimentary tone?"
    Maire gasped and rose from the chair so suddenly that
she almost fell over the Norman, who stood as well; he caught her around the
waist just before she toppled. Yet she scarcely noticed the weight of his hands
supporting her as she twisted around, her heart beating so fiercely that the
blood seemed to roar in her ears.
    That voice! She knew at once that the imperious-looking
blonde who glided into the bedchamber was the woman from the meadow, the woman
whose cool hand had slid across her brow, the woman whose laughter she could
not forget. Stricken, she stared into blue eyes as beautiful yet as chilling as
a winter's day. The woman flicked her with an amused look, then glanced above her head to the Norman.
    "Ah, such a delightful pose .
I take it she pleases you, brother?"
    Brother? Maire glanced in panic at the man looming so
tall just behind her, noticing for the first time how closely he held her against
him, his strong hands encircling her waist. But he didn't spare her a look, his
expression grimly furious, so much so that she could feel his mounting tension
in the splayed fingers digging into her flesh.
    "I shall tell you how pleased I am this night.
You've gone too far, Adele. Damn you, from what clan did you abduct this woman?
Answer me now!"
    The vehemence of his words clearly startling the
stunning blonde, a winged brow raised in affront, Maire was astonished that
Adele could answer so coolly.
    "Abduct, Duncan? I brought you a gift, is all. My
men and I enjoyed a bit of sport—some Irish strayed into our path on our
journey north from Wexford. A motley bunch, they attacked us actually. So of
course we had to defend ourselves—"
    "No!"
    Maire's hoarse cry filled the room, and she almost
regretted her outburst when the icy force of Adele's gaze settled upon her.
    "The wench still suffers from that nasty bump on
her head, I see. Poor thing. She fell from her horse in the fray."
    "Either that or one of your knights roughly
handled her when you stole her from her home," came the Norman's equally
cold voice behind Maire. "Dammit, Adele, if you used such a ploy to secure
me a wife—"
    "A wife? Her? "
    Adele's voice was so full of scorn that Maire flinched,
in the next moment she almost felt sick as the woman's laughter echoed in the
lofty chamber.
    "Good God, Duncan—oh, my, yes, this is rare. You
thought I had the wench abducted to be your bride? An Irish chit? If I've any
say in the matter, and I hope you allow me as much, your wife will be
Norman-born as is only fitting for the astonishing rank you've achieved—"
    "So you've already said tonight, Adele, remember? Who would have thought? "
    As the room suddenly fell silent, the Norman scowled
and his sister stared back at him with her lips pressed together. Maire sensed
they were no longer talking about her plight but another matter altogether—
something that clearly held such bitterness for the man named Duncan that his
grip around her waist tightened to the point of pain, and she cried out, trying
to twist free.
    "She doesn't seem very fond of you, brother. No
matter. I had meant her as a maid for myself, but thought her comely enough
that she might amuse you. Yet I can see . . ." Adele