by Lynsay Sands
There was silence for a moment after the young man revealed the amount. His parents were obviously staggered by the size of it. Iliana was shocked herself and was not sure whether to be flattered that the king would offer so much to keep her and her mother safe, or insulted that so much had to be offered for Duncan to marry her.
She got little chance to ponder that, however, as Laird McInnis snapped out of his surprise to ask, "And what will ye be doin' with the coins?"
Iliana turned curiously toward her husband, amazed at the sudden change that overcame him. All the stiffness and anger slid from him like water off a duck's back and his eyes, his face, his very person seemed suddenly aglow with excitement.
"I'm plowing most o' it back into Dunbar. Between that and the coins I've stored away over the years, there is much I can finally get done. I plan to start by reinforcing the wall. 'Tis in rough shape and constantly threatens to crumble about our very ears. Then there is the moat; I would have it deeper, I think, and wider. Then I thought I might enlarge the castle itself, and I also wish to increase our flock o' sheep..."
Iliana stared at her husband's animated expression. 'Twas like seeing an entirely different person, someone completely foreign from the sullen, grim-faced man she had married. She rather liked this character. He was ambitious and enthusiastic. Energy seemed almost to be pouring off his body as he spoke. Iliana could actually feel the heat of him warming her side as she sat beside him. It was a pleasant feeling. Almost a tingling that danced along her left side, energizing her.
Duncan smiled suddenly at a comment from Laird McInnes, and Iliana found her breath catching in her throat. She had seen that smile once before. On the day she had arrived at Dunbar. It had taken her by surprise then and managed to do so again now as she realized that her husband was truly an attractive man beneath all that grime. Very attractive.
"McInnes ends here. Ye're now on Dunbar land."
Iliana took in her husband's grim expression, then turned to peer at their surroundings.
They had dined with the McInneses, enjoying far better fare than had yet been served at Dunbar, then sat on for a while, the women chatting about various things as the men continued discussing Duncan's plans for his home. Iliana had learned a thing or two about her husband while listening to the conversation flow back and forth. First, beneath all of that dirt and gruff behavior, was a very intelligent man. It had become obvious as he spoke that a lot of the plans he had outlined had been well thought out. It had also become obvious that he was not simply cheap. At least not when it came to updating and reinforcing Dunbar keep. His miserly manner when it came to dressing and feeding his people was merely a matter of necessity to save the coins he needed to ensure their future. Something she found herself admiring deeply. He was very disciplined. Far more so than she herself.
Iliana had also concluded that evening that her husband was very ambitious. She actually found herself in awe of the grand plans he had for Dunbar. Plans he had already set in motion, she had realized at one point as Duncan had explained the renovations already underway. He'd been accomplishing it bit by bit over the years, and now the large dowry had made it possible for him to do much at once. It seemed that while she had been busy scrubbing the great hall, Duncan and his men had been working diligently on the moat and wall. Deepening, expanding, reinforcing...
'Twas a large undertaking, involving heavy work and long hours. This had been something of a relief to her. It explained the air of weary satisfaction that had hung over him these last three days, and why he had not pestered her unduly over his husbandly rights. Iliana had fully expected there to be a nightly battle over the matter, so she had been surprised, mayhap even a bit insulted, that he had seemed so indifferent to her. He had not even bothered to come to their room since their wedding night. That had truly annoyed her at first, for she'd feared that he had turned his attention to one of the village women.
Iliana was not sure why she was bothered by the idea of Duncan's taking a mistress. 'Twas common for husbands to do; besides, she did not want the great, smelly oaf in her own bed. Still, she had not been pleased at the possibility. In fact, the thought of it had plagued her, making her most irritable the first morning after he had not joined her in their chamber. But Ebba had informed her that her husband had spent the night sleeping in his sister's empty room. Alone. He had done so every night since then, much to her relief.
"Are ye even listening to me?"
Iliana pulled herself from her thoughts and met her husband's annoyed glare. He had held his temper through dinner and during the first part of their ride home, waiting until they'd reached this spot. Then he had suddenly grabbed the reins of her mount and drawn their horses to a halt to make his announcement.
"Aye, husband," Iliana murmured now. "This is where Dunbar land begins."
He nodded grimly. "Ye would do well to remember that in future, wife. For if ye ever leave Dunbar land again without me permission, I shall beat ye."
Her back stiffening, Iliana eyed him warily.
"And once I've finished beatin' ye, I'll most like lock ye up fer a goodly time as well." The grim expression that accompanied his words seemed to indicate the conviction behind them, and Iliana shifted uncomfortably as he continued. "I do not make such a threat idly. Yer actions were beyond foolish today. They could have got ye killed. I don't ken who yer enemies were at Wildwood, but as a member o' the Dunbar clan, ye now have a whole new set o' 'em to add to it. Anyone o' them could have taken ye today and done with ye as they willed; whether that be rapin', or killin', or both, and I would've been able to do naught about it except to avenge the wrong done ye after the fact."
Iliana blanched, only now beginning to realize just how foolish she had been.
Duncan nodded solemnly. "I can see ye understand how thoughtless and emptyheaded yer actions were. That bein' the case, I'll say no more about yer foolishness in chasing after the spice merchant so. Howbeit, know this. It was a waste o' time. Ye'll no be wastin' me coins on spices. I've plans for them already as ye heard this night, and I'll not have ye wastin' me newfound wealth on spices and cloth and the like."
"Aye, husband," Iliana murmured, eager to soothe him.
Iliana was silent and subdued for the rest of the journey, weariness creeping over her so that it was a relief when they finally arrived home. Not wishing to anger Duncan and bring more censure upon herself, she did her best not to shrink from him as he helped her to dismount. But once he had set her upon the ground and released her, she hurried up the steps to the keep, not waiting to see whether he followed.
As late as it was, Laird Angus was still up. Seated in one of the two chairs by the fire, he was staring sadly into its depths but glanced up when she entered. Spying her, he smiled and offered a word of welcome.
Managing a weak smile in response, Iliana murmured a greeting as she crossed to the stairway, then trudged silently up the steps to the second floor. The door of the bed chamber she had come to think of as her own had never looked so welcoming as it did at that moment. Pushing it open, Iliana stepped inside and started to close the door, only to find it resist her push. Turning back in surprise, her eyes widened as she saw that Duncan had followed her and was now entering the room. She had not even considered that he might expect to sleep here tonight. A foolish oversight, she supposed wearily. After all, her husband had been sleeping in Seonaid's room, but that young woman had returned from her hunting trip today. That being the case, Iliana supposed she should have expected Duncan to join her in their room that night, but the thought had not occurred to her, and she now eyed him warily as he entered.
Closing the door, Duncan walked to the bed, thoroughly ignoring his wife's glare. Her expression made him feel something of an interloper as he began to unbuckle his sword, and that annoyed him. It was his bloody room. And she was his wife. Though one could be forgiven for not believing that since she seemed to have no concept of how a wife should behave. A wife was her husband's possession as surely as h
is castle, his cattle, and his sword. She was to subject herself to her husband's will, not stomp about in a belt of chastity, insulting his odor and demanding that he bathe.
His gaze slid to his wife as an image of her standing in naught but that damn belt came to mind. Her flesh had been nearly as white as those precious linens of hers, with just a blush of pink, he remembered, licking his lips.
Aware that his body was growing excited at the memory, Duncan sighed and turned his back to her. 'Twas a form of torture to do otherwise and he had suffered enough such torment of late. Duncan had found it impossible to forget the way she had trembled and shuddered in his arms on the morning after the wedding. In fact, he seemed to think of little else but that and how to get her out of her bloody belt so that he could finish what had been started that morning. He had considered the matter carefully these last three days. He had considered simply cutting the belt from her body, for other than the metal locking device itself, the rest of the contraption was merely leather. But it was thick leather that pressed tight to her flesh. He could do her great damage trying such a trick. That morning, while she had been busy below, he had ransacked her chests in search of the key but hadn't found it. He had even considered beating her until she gave him the key, but Duncan had always despised men who were violent to those weaker than themselves, and could not justify such behavior to himself. His threat to beat her should she leave Dunbar unattended again had been an empty one, made out of fear for her safety. He had not overstated the peril she faced by such foolish behavior.
It was foolish of him to feel the way he did, he supposed, but he could not seem to help himself. Once the worst of his anger over her refusal had passed, Duncan had found he actually admired her spirit in doing so. Few women would have dared to say nay to their husbands, especially since husbands had every legal right--and were even encouraged by the church--to beat their wives for lesser crimes. But despite her fear--and he had seen it plain on her face as she had stated her decisions on the matter--she had stuck to her guns.
Aye, she had spirit. Her refusal of him, as well as her activities today, were evidence of that. Unfortunately, they also demonstrated her complete ignorance in the matter of how a wife should behave. She had many lessons to learn. He only hoped he could find the patience to teach her properly, for he had found himself unusually short-tempered since his unsuccessful wedding night. So far he had taken the worst of it out on the men, driving them, as well as himself, to work to the point of exhaustion on the wall they were constructing. Even so, when he dragged his exhausted body to bed at night, he could only sleep fitfully.
Successfully bedding his wife would no doubt go a long way toward curing this sudden bout of insomnia he was suffering, and he had even considered bathing a bit early to gain the pleasure that would be his once the belt was gone. But Duncan felt sure that if he gave way in this matter it would begin a dangerous pattern. Nay. Unless he came up with another way to remove the belt, he very much feared he would have a long wait ere finally managing to bed his wife. That realization was not one that pleased a man used to getting his own way.
Iliana winced as her husband's sword crashed noisily to the floor. She scowled at his back, then blinked as his plaid suddenly dropped to the floor as well. Now he stood with his back to her, the shirt he wore beneath his plaid hanging just to the top of his behind, and Iliana found her eyes drawn involuntarily to those chiseled curves, and following the lines of his buttocks to the hard muscled length of his legs. Oddly enough, she found herself having a bit of difficulty breathing as she examined him so.
Disturbed by her body's reaction to her husband's physique, Iliana started to turn away, only to pause, her eyes instinctively rising to his wide, strong back and arms as he jerked his shirt upward and tugged it off over his head. She drank in the sight of his muscles shifting and rippling as he moved, reminded that, for all his odor and irritating manner, her husband was a very fine figure of a man. Every muscle in his body seemed to swell and undulate as he bent to tug back the rumpled bed linens, then crawl between them.
That was when Iliana snapped out of her almost mesmerized state. Moved to action, she hurried forward and snatched at the top linen, trying to whip it off as her husband crawled beneath it. Duncan was quicker than she had expected. Catching the tail end, he tugged back, nearly toppling her onto him. But Iliana caught herself in time, and glared at him.
"I told you, you shall not sleep on my mother's linens until you take a bath. You will not stink them up with your filth."
Duncan went still, then released the linen abruptly, nearly sending Iliana tumbling to the floor.
Catching herself, she stared in amazement as he suddenly stood, gloriously naked, before her. Reaching down, he grabbed the bottom linen that Ebba had used to replace the original and ripped it from the bed. Tossing it at her, he bent to sweep up his plaid from the floor and tumbled back onto the bare mattress, pulling the dirty tartan over himself like a blanket.
Clutching the linens to her chest, Iliana stared at him blankly, not quite sure what to do. She could hardly order him from his own bed but would be deviled if she intended on joining the great smelly oaf in it. After briefly hesitating where she stood, she spun away and trudged to the corner of the room near the door. It was the only spot that was clear of her chests. Her expression grim and shoulders stiff, she made a nest of the linens on the floor, then crawled into her makeshift bed and closed her eyes.
Chapter Seven
"Ah, there ye be, lassie!" Smiling benignly, Laird Angus crossed the great hall to meet Iliana as she descended the stairs. "I've somethin' fer ye. Gilley finished makin' them up yesterday. I would've given 'em to ye when ye returned from McInnes last eve, but 'twas so late and ye looked so tired, I thought to leave it fer today."
Iliana paused at the base of the stairs and forced a smile as she reached for the keys he held out. "Thank you, my lord."
"No need for thanks, lass. They be yours by right," he assured her with a pat on the shoulder, then turned toward the door. "I'm off then. I'll be out and about if ye need me."
Closing her fingers around the keys in her hand, Iliana watched him go, then turned to peer toward the trestle tables at the other end of the room. Relief rippled through her on gentle waves when she saw that, but for herself, the great hall now appeared all but empty. Actually, it was not the fact that the room was empty that made her relax suddenly, but that it was empty of her husband. It meant she could put off thanking him for his thoughtfulness of the night before.
'Twas a cold, hard bed she had chosen for herself last eve. Castles were invariably drafty, and while the unyielding stone floor of the bedchamber was covered with rushes, they had done little to cushion her body. Iliana had shifted and twisted stubbornly about on her makeshift bed for hours in an effort to get comfortable before finally dozing off. However, when she had awoken this morn, it was to find herself curled up on the bed, her gown wrinkled beyond redemption and caught up in the linens she was bundled in. It did not take a genius to realize that her husband must have moved her to the bed at some point during the night. Or this morning. He had not been in the room when she had awoken.
Duncan's kindness in moving her to the bed had been unexpected. It was also appreciated. Iliana was aware that she would most likely have been stiff and sore on awaking had he not moved her, and could only be grateful for his kindness. She supposed it was only right that she thank him for the deed and had been prepared to do so on coming below. Now that she knew he was not available to thank, however, she was more than happy to avoid the necessity for a few hours. It would give her time to sort out her feelings. They seemed to be in a bit of a muddle at the moment. Much to her distress, while Iliana was grateful for his thoughtfulness, it somehow made her feel guilty for refusing him his husbandly rights.
Sighing, she started toward the trestle tables, pausing halfway there as she finally noticed the walls. As per her orders, the servants had apparently whitewashed them while she was g
one--and done a miserable job of it. They looked almost worse now than they had before the whitewashing. Something she had not thought possible.
"Ebba!" Turning, she peered about the empty great hall with a frown. It seemed everyone had been to breakfast and gone. She was a late riser this morning, thanks to her maid. Where the devil was that woman anyway? Ebba always presented herself at Iliana's door first thing in the morning to aid her in dressing. Had she done so this morn, Iliana would not have slept so long. Why, half the morning was already gone and there was much to do.
"Ebb--Oh, there you are," she cut herself off as the woman hurried through the keep doors and rushed toward her. "Where have you been?"
"His lordship said to let you rest. He said you had not slept well last night." There was a question in her eyes that Iliana waved away. She was not in the mood to explain that she had slept on the floor for part of the night.
"What is this?" She gestured toward the walls, and Ebba sighed.
"Aye. 'Tis awful, is it not? I tried to tell them they were doing it all wrong, but Giorsal just keep saying 'twas the way Lady Muireall had done it, and kept on about the business."
Iliana grimaced unhappily. She was sick unto death of hearing that woman's name quoted at her. "I somehow doubt Lady Muireall liked streaked walls."
The maid nodded in agreement. "Shall I fetch Giorsal?"
"Aye. Tell her Lady Iliana does it differently and wishes it done again...And again, if necessary, until it is right. If they will not follow your instructions, fetch me and I shall tend to it."
Her maid nodded determinedly. "Where will you be, my lady?"
"Down in the village. Send someone to fetch me when the spice merchant gets here."
"Aye, my lady."
Turning away, Iliana headed out of the keep. Despite what her husband had said the night before, she fully intended on purchasing the spices. She had no intention of disobeying him. He had said only that she was not to use his coins to purchase them. Iliana had her own to work with. She had found them in a bag in one of her trunks when she had first rifled through the chests on her arrival. There had also been a letter from her mother and father, telling her that the coins were a wedding gift.