Chapter Four
Duncan gaped at the contraption she wore, but had barely taken in the leather straps with the gleaming lock in front before she turned to flee toward her chests. Nothing on earth could have stopped him from leaping the bed to reach her side.
Catching her about the waist, he tugged her backward, twisting so that they landed side by side on the bed. He then threw a leg over both of hers and leaned up slightly so that he could peer once more at the contraption she wore.
"Damn." The word came out in a hiss of air as he examined the apparatus. Catching her hands easily in one of his own when she started to struggle, he held them above her head, his eyes never leaving the belt. "What be it?" he asked with awe.
"'Tis a belt of chastity," Iliana admitted grimly, then caught at her lower lip and began to worry it between her teeth.
"I have never seen the like."
"'Twas invented by Francesco Carrarro. A...a friend of my father's."
"How did ye come by it?"
"Father brought it back from his last visit," Iliana answered reluctantly. "He gave my mother and myself both one."
"And yer mother had ye wear it to ensure yer chastity 'til ye reached me," he guessed, giving the front strap an experimental tug. "'Tis leather."
"Aye," Iliana gasped, her head turned to the side to avoid the stink of his armpits as she tried to tug her hands loose. Damn, he smelled foul.
Shifting, he turned her abruptly onto her stomach so that he could look at the back of it, taking in the way the center strap was sturdily fastened to the belt there.
"Let me up," Iliana snapped over her shoulder, embarrassment flushing her face.
Duncan ignored her, his gaze wandering to the cheeks of her bottom on either side of the leather. 'Twas a fascinating sight. The round, smooth pink flesh, separated by the dark brown leather. Reaching out, he caressed one cheek lightly and smiled. The belt was a great relief to him. For a moment, he had thought he had gotten more than he had bargained for in a wife. Pinching one perfect cheek for the scare he'd had, Duncan smiled over her startled squeal, then flipped her onto her back again, his gaze turning to the lock that held the contraption closed.
"How do ye undo this?" Slipping a finger beneath the center strip, he ran it along her skin until it rested against her womanhood, where he gave the leather a gentle tug.
"A key," Iliana answered thickly, then swallowed.
"Where be the key?" His finger slid back up along the belt, setting off a clamoring within Iliana that occupied her briefly. She was damn relieved when his hand stilled and his head raised toward her in question.
Clearing her throat, she met his gaze. "I..." Pausing, she swallowed and tried again. "I will give you the key if you take a bath."
Duncan stilled, confusion his only expression. "A bath? 'Tis not July yet. Why the devil should I take a bath?"
"July?" Iliana frowned. "What has that to do with it?"
"I bathe twice a year," he told her proudly. "The last day o' every January and every July. Why would ye wish me to change that and bathe in the middle o' June?"
"Because...because I find your odor offensive?" she offered timidly.
"What?"
"I said--"
"I heard what ye said, woman! I am not deaf. What the devil do ye mean?"
Arms stretched above her head and lower body trapped beneath his, Iliana was beginning to feel like a sacrificial virgin. Temper flaring, she snapped, "You smell like a chamber pot! I do not care to be near you and I will not give you the key unless you take a bath!"
Duncan pulled back to stare at her in dismay, completely flummoxed by her audacity. "Ye are denyin' me rights as yer lawful wedded husband?"
"Nay! I deny you nothing," Iliana contradicted at once, trying to sound reasonable as she added, "But if you will not do me the courtesy of taking a bath, I will not--"
"Ye are denyin' me!" he accused, storm clouds gathering on his forehead.
"Nay, I--" Her words died as he suddenly released her and threw himself from the bed.
"Well! We shall just see about that!" he snarled, collecting his discarded clothes.
Sitting up slowly, Iliana anxiously watched him dress. "What will you do?" Her mouth tightened when an angry look was her only answer. He was nearly fully dressed ere she gave in and asked, "Will you have the wedding annulled?"
Iliana cringed even as she asked the question. The consequences of such an action were horrendous even to consider. She would be returned to Wildwood in shame and her mother would likely be well and truly trapped with Greenweld. That could not happen. Her gaze rose instinctively to the drapes above the bed where the key rested.
"Annulled?" Duncan turned on her, drawing her gaze back to his face. "Now that would be a trick, would it not? The bloody linens are probably already ahangin' from the railin'. Ye recall them, do ye not? Yer mother's linens with my blood on them?"
Iliana nodded her head slowly, relief rushing through her. He could not have the marriage annulled. Everyone thought it consummated. "What will you do then?" she asked now, but got no answer as he finished dressing and stormed out of the room.
Duncan pulled the door closed with an angry bang. Pausing, he lifted one arm to sniff at it and scowled. He smelled just as he should in June. That did not seem good enough for his wife, however. It seemed she would have him bathed and powdered like one of her English dandies. Well, he would not have it. Should he give in on this, next she would have him wearing braies and hose. An indecent outfit as far as he was concerned, what with the way they clung to the body, emphasizing the lumps and bumps of a man's personal apparatus.
Nay. He bathed every July and January and had done so for a long time now...and he would continue to do so. If his wee wife thought to change him, she could think again. And should she continue to refuse him his rights...well, he would just have to see to it that she did not refuse, Duncan decided, recalling the brief image he had been given of her in naught but the small scraps of leather and the lock at her groin.
'Twas a damn exciting contraption no matter its name. And his wife had a luscious figure. He would not mind seeing her in that belt again. Hell, he would rather see her without it.
So much for the wedding night, he thought gloomily, leaving the door to stride down the hall. He should set her aside. Have the wedding annulled no matter the fact that everyone would then know that it had not been consummated. But damned if she did not now have the same attraction as a gift all wrapped up and left on his bed Christmas morn. Duncan dearly wanted to unwrap her.
Mayhap he could, he thought suddenly, as he reached the top of the stairs leading down to the great hall. Aye, mayhap he could. He would have a talk with the smithy.
Iliana sighed dismally and forced herself to get up and dress. She ran into some small difficulty right away. The belt of chastity was good for keeping unwanted intimacies at bay but was quite inconvenient when it came to certain personal needs. It would have to be removed.
Still clad in only the belt, she stepped onto the foot of the bed, grasped an end post to maintain her balance, and stretched a hand up to feel around in the drapes that were gathered over the bed. It did not take long to realize that this was not a good hiding spot. It seemed she had thrown the key farther than she had meant to. She could not feel it.
A knock at the door made her stiffen. "Who is it?"
Ebba's voice answered and Iliana relaxed with a sigh. Calling out to her to enter, she immediately turned back to the bed drapes, this time poking at the underside of them, trying to pop the key out.
"My lady!" Ebba gaped at her briefly, then hurriedly closed the door and rushed to her side. "What are you doing, my lady?"
"Trying to get the blasted key out of the drapes. Find me something long to fetch it out with. I fear I have an urgent need to relieve myself."
The maid's eyes widened at that, and she made a brief search of the room, coming up with a poker from beside the fire. "Will this do?"
"Aye, it
should." Taking the poker, Iliana began jabbing at the material again.
"Did you...He...You did not wear that thing all the night long, did you?"
"Aye."
After a brief silence, the woman asked, "Was his lordship very put out?"
"My husband passed out on the floor last night. He did not awake 'til morn."
"But the sheets were--"
"He cut his hand and spread the blood on the linens. My best linens," she added grimly.
"He knows not about the belt, then?" Ebba ventured hopefully as she eyed with distaste the single item of clothing her mistress was wearing.
"He knows. He found out this morn after everyone left."
"How did he react?"