by Lynsay Sands
"Me laird?" was all he managed to ask before Duncan plowed his fist into the fellow's face.
Muttering under her breath, Iliana gathered her skirts closer and hurried forward again. By the time she had reached the practice area, the men had formed a circle around the two combatants, their expressions a combination of curiosity and excitement as Duncan yelled at Willie Dunbar.
Iliana had to push her way between and around the larger bodies to reach the inner fringe. She paused there, worrying her lip anxiously as she saw Willie rise again, only to be knocked down once more. It was the gasp behind her that made her look to see that Janna, Mavis, and the other women had followed her through the crowd and were even now being joined by Elgin, Lord Angus, and Seonaid.
"Get up! Get up and fight like a man, ye coward!"
Duncan's bellow drew Iliana's gaze back around.
"What be the matter, me laird?" Willie was asking as he got warily back to his feet. "I don't ken--" His words broke off when Duncan snatched him by the collar and drew him close.
"Ye've been raisin' yer fists to Mavis. A woman half yer size and less than that in strength." Willie speared his wife with accusing eyes and Duncan gave him a shake. "She didn't tell me. I overheard it."
His words had little effect on Willie's venomous glare, so Duncan shook him again. "And ye'll not be punishing her fer me kenning. Fer every blow ye dare to give her, I'll be giving ye ten o' these." With that, he released the man's collar and smashed a fist into his face again. This time, Willie was prepared for the blow. He stumbled backward but did not fall. He even managed to bring his fists up and get in a retaliatory blow before Duncan backhanded him, then punched him in the stomach.
Iliana winced at the whoosh of air Willie expelled as he stumbled backward, then grimaced as Duncan slammed his fist into his jaw with enough force to knock the man senseless. He stood there for a moment, panting over the unconscious man, then turned to glare at the others gathered around.
"Any one o' ye who raises a fist to a woman'll receive the same and well ye'll deserve it, fer only a coward beats on someone so much weaker than himself." His gaze landed on Iliana then, and his mouth tightened briefly before he turned away and pushed through the crowd, headed for the stables.
Iliana started after him, only to be held back by Angus.
"Leave him go. He needs time to himsel' to calm down." His gaze slid to the unconscious Willie Dunbar and he shook his head on a sigh. "Duncan never could stomach bullies."
"May I go to him, me lady?"
Iliana glanced at Mavis in surprise when she asked the question, but nodded. "Aye. If you have a wish to."
The woman gazed at her unconscious husband with pity. "Fer good or bad, he's me husband. 'Sides, I don't think he'll be eager to raise his fists to me again."
"Nay," Iliana agreed quietly, and the other woman moved to her husband's side.
Angus glanced at Iliana's worried face as she peered toward the stables into which Duncan had disappeared, then urged her toward the keep. "Rabbie has a muckle o' manure he was wonderin' if ye would like fer yer garden."
Iliana frowned at him, distracted. "Rabbie?"
"The stablemaster," Janna reminded, falling into step on her other side.
"Aye. He cleans the stables every other day or so and has been collecting the manure at the back o' it," Angus told her. "He wondered if ye would like some o' it."
"Oh. Aye," she murmured. "'Twould be helpful."
"I'll have a couple o' men bring some up to the garden after lunch then. That way it'll be handy when yer ready fer it."
"Thank you," Iliana murmured.
Nodding, Angus glanced toward Seonaid, who was sidling toward the stables. "Daughter!"
Duncan's sister froze in her tracks, then turned reluctantly toward her father.
"I believe the gardens are this way," he said pointedly.
Grimacing, Seonaid slumped and moved back toward them.
"Ye're not suppose to be workin' hard."
Iliana sighed at those words from her sister-in-law. Straightening, she brushed the hair back from her face and peered at the sun overhead. It had been more than twenty-four hours since the incident in the bailey that had sent Duncan charging off on his horse. Iliana still did not know where he had gone, only that he had left the castle and ridden off alone into the woods.
She had not been surprised when he did not appear for lunch, but had begun to fret when he was not at sup either. Angus, Seonaid, and Janna had all assured her that he would be fine, but she had found herself oddly worried about him. Iliana was sure he could take care of himself, but he had appeared oddly vulnerable to her when she had first seen him standing on the path to the garden. The conversation he had overheard had appeared to truly stun him. Iliana suspected it had to do with Mavis declaring that he cared little for the well-being of the women of his clan. She supposed the comment had hit too close to what she herself had accused him of only moments earlier.
Oddly enough, rather than being pleased that her own opinion had been supported, however unintentionally, Iliana wished it were not so. She did not truly believe Duncan did not concern himself with the welfare of the women. Instead, she suspected that, having been raised with very little female company after the age of five, he had simply never realized the lack of comfort and warmth of his home. He simply was not aware of what he had been missing.
Worried as she had been, Iliana had found it hard to sleep last night and had been disappointed and anxious when she went down to breakfast and there was still no sign of him. When Duncan had finally shown up for the nooning meal, she had been terribly relieved to see him hale and healthy, but even more worried by his silent and sullen air. It had been obvious that he had not yet gotten over yesterday's incident. Iliana had not known what to say to ease his anger. Perhaps there was nothing she could say.
"Ye should sit in the shade an' rest."
Rolling her eyes, Iliana turned on the other woman. "I am not working hard," she argued for the tenth time since announcing that she would help to plant the garden that day. "I am planting seeds. 'Tis not hard work."
Seonaid glowered at her briefly, then turned back to the seeds she herself was burying in the newly turned soil, muttering under her breath as she did.
Iliana caught Janna's anxious expression.
"Me lady, the job is sore hard on the back. Mayhap ye should rest a bit and--" She paused as Iliana shook her head in disgust.
"You all behave as though I were made of feathers and might blow away in the first wind. I am young, healthy, and strong. I will be fine."
"But ye fainted," the servant pointed out.
"Aye, ye did," Seonaid agreed. "Ye aren't as well as ye like to think."
"I am not ill," Iliana said firmly.
"Mayhap she's with child," Mavis suggested, bringing a scowl to Iliana's face. The older woman had returned to the gardens that morning, announcing that Willie was too ornery to deserve her care. The man had risen at dawn this morning with a splitting headache and complained about it incessantly. Other than that, Mavis had said little about the incident that had seen her husband carried to his bed and sent Duncan riding off into the woods on his own.
"I am not with child," Iliana muttered impatiently, then grimaced and glanced toward the small hill of manure beside her as its putrid smell wafted to her nose. As promised, Angus'd had two men cart the manure the stablemaster had offered her to the garden yesterday afternoon. They'd dumped it at the base of the garden, putting it within easy reach for spreading once they were ready for it. Unfortunately, Iliana kept forgetting about the blessed thing and had stepped it every time she had reached the end of a row of seeds. As she had this time, she saw with a sigh.
She was about to step to the side, away from the pile, when a buzzing by her ear brought her head up warily. A bee was buzzing ominously about her.
Frowning, she waved a hand in front of her face and stepped instinctively backward as the bee swooped at her.
; "Me lady!"
Iliana had a glimpse of Janna's dismayed face and realized at once her mistake, but 'twas too late. The manure beneath her feet was slick and wet, and her slippers immediately skidded on the sloppy ground. She twisted frantically, trying to save herself, and instead managed to send herself sideways into the mire of the oozing, smelly muck.
Janna, Mavis, and Seonaid rushed forward at once, gasping and gagging as they grabbed at her hands to pull her free of the mire, but the ground was slippery with the stuff. Janna and Mavis both had her by the hands and were dragging her back to her feet when those feet skidded out from beneath her again. This time when she fell she took both women with her. They landed in the manure beside her with dismayed squeals. Seonaid joined them a split-second later as Janna's flailing legs caught her at the ankles and swept them out from beneath her.
The smell was putrid, the feel disgusting. Iliana was nearly in tears as she struggled to her knees in the goo and crawled to the edge of the pile. Reaching the good clean dirt, she regained her feet, and turned back toward the hill. Janna and Mavis, too, had struggled to their feet and were slip-sliding together out of the manure, while Seonaid was simply lying where she had landed, laughing so hard she could not seem to move.
Iliana shook her head at the other woman in exasperation but could not contain a small smile herself as she peered at her companions. Janna's red hair was red no more. 'Twas a muddy brown, with great clumps of horse dung hanging from it. Her lovely new plaid was in a similar state. As was Mavis, who also had a great smear of the stuff down one side of her face. Both women stood, arms akimbo, heads bent as they peered with disgust at themselves. 'Twas not a picture Iliana would soon forget, she decided, shaking her head with amusement and turning back toward the pile and a still laughing Seonaid.
Stepping to the edge of the pile again, she braced herself and reached out a hand to her sister-in-law. Sobering slightly, Seonaid took the offered hand and tugged even as Iliana lurched backwards. Between the two of them, they got her to her feet and managed to lurch several feet away from the manure.
"Ugh!" Janna muttered, shaking her arms and watching the dung fly.
"Gor!"
"'Tis disgusting!"
"Putrid."
"I smell like a--"
"Privy?" Iliana supplied dryly.
Janna paused and glanced up at Iliana, then suddenly burst out laughing. "Oh, me lady!" She tried to stem her laughter and replace it with an apologetic expression, but failed. "'Tis sorry I am, me lady. But yer hair, yer lovely hair looks--"
"Like yours?" Iliana suggested wryly, a small smile tugging at her lips.
"No doubt," came the self-deprecating laugh, then she groaned as she caught a good whiff of herself. "I smell worse than Sean now."
"And I worse than Willie." Mavis muttered. They shared a wry glance; then Janna suddenly perked up, mischief playing on her face.
"I think I'll find him an' plant a nice big kiss on his lips...if he doesna fight me off first."
"Do not let him," Iliana suggested lightly. "Mayhap he'll be willing to take his bath early."
"Aye, mayhap." Janna grimaced as she peered down at herself. "If ye'll excuse me, me lady?"
"And me?"
"Aye, of course." Iliana watched the two women go, then glanced toward Seonaid, who was scraping dung from her legs and feet with her sword. "Would you like first crack at my bath?"
"Nay. The loch is good enough fer me."
"As you wish." Iliana turned toward the keep, only to pause. She could not, would not, go through the kitchen like this. Sighing, she headed around the building. Much to her amusement, no one seemed to notice the state she was in as she hurried to the front door of the keep and rushed inside. It was not until she came across Ebba on her way upstairs that she got any reaction at all.
"My lady!"
Iliana smiled at the servant's dismayed expression as she passed her on the stairs. "Aye, Ebba. I shall need a bath."
"At once, my lady."
Iliana was in her room before her own words struck her. "Mayhap he would be willing to take a bath early." Pausing by the bed, she began to worry her lip. Every night she had watched her husband remove his clothes, piece by piece, and every night she had felt a stirring within her. That stirring had become a constant slow burn within the pit of her belly ever since the morning when he had tried to seduce her. She had alternately suffered regret and relief ever since; grateful for the interruption that had saved her from her own body's wants, yet wondering how it would have felt to experience that satisfaction he had spoken of.
Well, now she smelled at least as bad as he did. His scent would not even be noticeable to her, she was sure. Her smell, on the other hand, might affect him. If it did, mayhap she could persuade him to share a bath with her.
The opening of the door drew her attention as Ebba entered, followed by servants carrying a tub and buckets of water. Iliana waited impatiently until the water was poured and all but Ebba gone, then ordered the woman urgently: "Go fetch my husband, Ebba."
"Fetch...?"
"Aye, at once."
"Aye, my lady." She started for the door, only to pause when Iliana called her back.
"My dress; I will need help removing it."
Wrinkling her nose, she set to the chore until Iliana was naked but for the belt of chastity, then departed.
Iliana immediately rushed to the discarded gown and searched through it for the ring of keys her father-in-law had made up for her. With the dress in a tangled bundle, it took her longer than she had expected to retrieve the blasted keys, but once she had them, she quickly unlocked and removed the belt.
She was just trying to decide what to do with it when she recognized the sound of her husband stomping down the hall. Giving a slight squeal, she rushed to the bed and dove under the linens, uncaring at that moment that they would have to be cleaned ere the night, for while most of the manure had been removed with the dress, there was still some clinging to her hair, arms, and lower legs.
She had just arranged herself in what she hoped was a seductive pose when the door burst open and her husband strode in, obviously irritated.
"What the devil be the matter? Ebba said 'twas urgent. That ye--" The words dried up in his mouth as he spied her clothes lying near the bed and realized she must be nude. His eyes widened incredulously, then his gaze slid to the tub and he stiffened, anger returning. "I see. Yer hopin' to lure me to the tub with the promise o' a tumble. Well, it willna work--" The tirade died when she suddenly held up the chastity belt she still held in her hand. "Gor!"
Duncan was across the room in three strides. With the first, he unfastened and removed the belt holding his sword at his waist. With the second, he gave a yank to his plaid that sent it slithering to the floor. With the third, he was tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it away. Then he was upon her, his mouth on hers before he had even landed fully. His left hand tangled in her hair, holding her head still beneath his as his right hand whipped the linen covering her aside and planted itself firmly at the apex of her thighs. Whether he was checking for the equipment a woman should have Iliana wasn't sure, but the summary action startled her into opening her mouth. He immediately took advantage of that, his tongue sliding easily between her lips and ravishing her.
If this was not quite the reaction she had expected, it certainly had her attention. Her body was not exactly yawning either. Gasping as he took full advantage of his sudden freedom to explore her woman's parts, she sucked frantically at the tongue invading her mouth and arched into the touch examining her so thoroughly, writhing as the investigation became a caress that rubbed her flesh in ways she had never imagined.
When his mouth suddenly left hers to kiss a trail down her neck, she moaned in despair and almost missed his garbled gasp of dismay as he caught a whiff of her.
"Gor!" He pulled away in horror, his nose wrinkled beyond distaste. "What the bloody hell!"
"I fell in manure," Iliana explained quickly
, catching his hand when he started to pull away. "But 'tis all right. Now I hardly notice your odor." She tried to pull his head down to recapture his lips with hers then, but he was having none of that.
"Ye reek, woman!"
"No worse than you!" Iliana cried defensively, rubbing against him. "Kiss me."
Duncan stared at his wife in dismay for a moment. Then his gaze dropped down over her body, taking in her breasts--nipples painfully erect--before shifting to the spot that had been hidden from him for so long. Part of him wanted to get as far away as possible. The other part, a much lower but louder part, was screaming at him to take advantage of this opportunity. His hand slid of its own accord to one of her breasts and he groaned briefly, then lowered his lips to hers again. Unfortunately, even holding his breath did not keep the scent of her from sneaking through and dragging at his passion.
Cursing, he pulled his lips away, picked her up, and carried her across the room to drop her in the tub, splashing water everywhere. Only she did not let go of him as she fell, as he had expected. Instead, she clung to him like moss to a tree. He nearly fell into the tub with her, but at the last moment caught the edges and saved himself.
Ignoring the betrayed look she wore, he straightened, ordering tersely, "Hurry and bathe."
Iliana glared at him from the tub, then leaned back, crossed her arms, and stared straight ahead, making it obvious she was not going to cooperate.
Scowling, he peered at her body in the clear liquid, then glanced at her face and finally her hair. He could see great chunks of manure in the shiny mass of waves. Shifting, he snapped. "Hurry up or I'll wash ye meself."
Her only response was an uncaring shrug.
Cursing once more, Duncan moved to kneel beside the tub and started with her hair. Placing a hand flat on the top of her head, he shoved her downward.
Caught by surprise, Iliana went down like a drunken sailor. The water rushed over her face and hair, flowing into her mouth and nose. She burst from under the water seconds later, spluttering, and splashing water everywhere. Before she had even managed to push the wet tresses out of her eyes, Duncan had taken the soap to her hair and started cleaning the long wet masses. Ignoring her shouts and curses when he got soap in her eyes, he worked away, then pushed her beneath the water again and gave her head a shake to help rinse her of the soap he had applied. Then he released her and straightened.