And then he couldn't think at all.

The harsh days of winter boasted unholy temperatures, led by a howling wind that gripped the countryside in its frozen, frostbitten jaws. Winter promised to hold the world in glacial splendor for eternity it seemed, until that gentle maiden, spring, came forth with a promise of her own. She carried the gift of rebirth, wrapped in the warm glow of the sun. Wooed by the promise, the wind lost its shivering edge and magically turned into soft breezes.

The trees were the first to show fulfillment of the promise. Branches were no longer brittle, but malleable with graceful motion when the breeze coaxed them. Fragile buds and green leaves fattened each limb. Forgotten seeds, blown into the earth by autumn's warning blusters, now bloomed into a riot of color and fragrance, heady enough to entice vain, flittering honey bees.

It was a magical time for Madelyne. And there was such joy in loving Duncan. She thought it was a miracle that Duncan loved her. The first few weeks after his declaration, she had actually been uneasy, worried that he'd grow bored with her. She went to great lengths to please him. Yet the inevitable first fight occurred anyway. A simple misunderstanding that could easily have been resolved, blown out of proportion because of Duncan 's black mood and her exhaustion.

In truth, Madelyne couldn't even remember what started the argument. She recalled only that Duncan had yelled at her. She had immediately retreated behind her safe mask of composure, but it didn't take her husband long to goad the perfected tranquility right out of her. She had burst into tears, told him he obviously didn't love her anymore, and then ran to the tower.

Duncan followed her. He still bellowed, but the topic had changed to her habit of jumping to incorrect conclusions. When she realized he was furious that she thought he'd stopped loving her, she hadn't minded the fierce frown or the shouts. After all, he was yelling that he loved her.

She'd learned an important lesson that night. It was quite all right to yell back. The rules had all shifted on her since meeting the Wextons. The freedom she was now allowed unlocked all the doors to her emotions. She didn't have to be restrained. When she felt like laughing, she laughed. And when she felt like yelling, she went right ahead, though she did try to maintain a ladylike, dignified manner.

Madelyne also realized she was taking on some of her husband's characteristics.

There was safety in predictability and she was beginning to dislike change as much as he did. When Gilard and Edmond both left to give their forty days to their overlord, Madelyne let everyone within shouting distance know of her displeasure.

Duncan pointed out the inconsistency of her reasoning, even reminded her she'd once argued in favor of giving his brothers more responsibility. Madelyne, however, didn't want to listen to reason. She had turned into a mother hen and wanted all the Wextons to stay right where she could keep an eye on them.

Duncan understood his wife far better than she understood him. His brothers and Adela had all become members of her family. She had been alone for so manv years, the pleasure of having so many caring people surrounding her was too comforting to let go without protest.

She was a peacemaker too. Madelyne constantly interfered if she thought one was being picked on. She was each one's protector and yet was amazed when anyone sought to protect her.

In truth, she still didn't understand her value. Duncan knew she thought it was a miracle that he loved her. He wasn't a man given to proclaiming his feelings, but he quickly realized she needed to hear his vow of love often. There was an underlying sense of fear and insecurity, understandable because of her background, and he accepted that it would take time for her to gain confidence in her abilities.

The days spent with his new wife would have been idyllic if Adela hadn't been so determined to drive them all daft. Duncan tried to maintain a sympathetic manner toward his sister, but her behavior was enough to make him secretly want to throttle her.

He made the mistake of telling Madelyne how he felt about Adela's conduct and his urge to put a gag in her mouth. Madelyne was appalled. She immediately defended Adela. His wife suggested Duncan learn to be more compassionate, and why in God's name she thought he'd want to do that was beyond his comprehension.

Madelyne called him unsympathetic, yet the opposite was really the truth of the matter. Duncan was extremely sympathetic toward Baron Gerald. His friend had the patience of Job and the endurance of forged steel.

Adela was doing everything she could to dissuade her suitor. She mocked, she screamed, she cried. None of it mattered. Gerald wasn't the least deterred from his singular goal of winning her. Duncan thought Gerald was either as stubborn as a donkey or as stupid as a bull. He might have been a little of both.

Duncan couldn't help but admire Gerald. Such determination was praiseworthy, especially when one considered the prize Gerald was after had turned into a screaming shrew.

Duncan really would have preferred ignoring the whole situation. Madelyne, however, wouldn't allow him that privilege. She constantly dragged him into the middle of family squabbles, explaining it was his duty to set things right.

She told him, very matter-of-factly, he could be both lord and brother, but all that nonsense about keeping a cold, distant attitude toward his family was a habit of the past to be shed.

Madelyne also told him he could keep his brothers' respect and gain their friendship too. Duncan didn't argue with her. Lord only knew he hadn't won a single argument since they'd wed.

In this instance, however, she'd been correct. He didn't bother to tell her, of course, knowing she'd immediately point out some other "habit" he should discard.

He began to eat his evening meal with his family because he knew it would please Madelyne, and found he gained pleasure in the experience. He discussed various topics and enjoyed the lively debates that resulted. His brothers were both perceptive men and it wasn't long before Duncan began to value their suggestions.

He slowly removed the barriers he'd erected to separate himself from his family, found the rewards were far greater than the effort.

His father had been wrong. Duncan knew that now. His father might have ruled rigidly in order to protect his position as lord. Perhaps he thought he'd lose their respect if he showed his children affection. Duncan wasn't sure what his father's reasoning had been. He only knew he didn't have to follow the old ways any longer.

He had his wife to thank for the change in his attitude. She taught him that fear and respect didn't have to go hand in hand. Love and respect worked just as well, perhaps even better. It was ironic. Madelyne thanked Duncan for giving her a place in his family, when the reverse was really the truth. She had given him a place in his own home. She had shown him how to be a brother to Gilard, Edmond, and Adela. Aye, she'd dragged him right into the middle of the family circle.

Duncan did continue to maintain the same schedule with his men, but he set aside an hour each afternoon to instruct his wife in the proper way of riding. She was a quick learner and it wasn't long before he let her ride Silenus to the lower hill outside the wall. He followed behind her of course as a precaution. And he grumbled, too, over her stubborn habit of taking food to her imaginary wolf.