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…

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.