The lady did not share Duncan’s mood. She halted before him, tipped up her chin—clearly undaunted by the difference in their height—and jabbed her finger into his chest to make her point.
“I am afraid of naught!” she spat. “And I am certainly not afraid of an uncivilized, troublemaking, unpredictable, vulgar...” She sputtered, momentarily at a loss, and Duncan grinned.
naughtYe gods, but he could well sympathize with the sense of being so angry that words did not fall readily from the lips.
“Barbarian,” he supplied helpfully, feeling a startling affinity for this woman. Indeed, an admiring grin curved his lips, clearly doing naught to improve the lady’s temper.
“Aye!” Her eyes flashed dangerously. “A barbarian like you!” She caught her breath, her breasts rising as she gritted her teet
