Chapter Nineteen
Impressions
“I ask little of my guests,” Yulen cut in heatedly. “But one requirement I do expect is for them to be courteous. There was no call for your insult.”
The sharp words brought a flush of red to Rafe’s face, but he bowed his head to Madigan. “My apologies, my lady.” He gave no explanation for his outburst, but Madigan took his regret with typical grace.
“Apology accepted...Rafe. Oh, sweet heavens, you look exactly like my Rory. How old are you?”
“Thirty-two.”
“Then you...”
“Was conceived before your own son.” Rafe pointedly looked around. “Are we going inside or not?”
Yulen forced himself not to say anything further. He knew that it wouldn’t take much to offend the other D’Jacques. And antagonizing a guest, and blood kin, would not make him look good to th
