Duncan shrugged. "'Twas no a plan 'til just afore it happened."
"Hmm." Ian urged his horse forward, waiting until Duncan brought his mount into step with his own before saying, "She mentioned as much. How'd it come about?"
Duncan shrugged. "The English king sent a fellow up to ask me would I do it and I said I would if he would see to rectifying the situation fer Seonaid."
"That's all he needed to persuade ye?" Ian looked a bit surprised.
"That an' a dowry only a wee bit smaller than a king's ransom."
Ian grinned. "I kenned there'd be more to it. How much?"
"Not nearly enough," Duncan muttered grimly.
"Nay! Ye've only been wed a few days! Doona tell me ye be complainin' already?"
"Aye."
"Why? Wha' has she done?"
Duncan glared ahead briefly, then grumbled, "She be acleanin' the keep."
Ian burst out laughing.
"And she expects me to bathe, too."
His friend's amusement only deepened at that and Duncan glared at him irritably.
"'Tis sorry I am, friend. But ye must admit ye smell a fair bit rank right now. Should ye try huntin', the beasties'd smell ye comin' and flee fer their lives."
"'Tis June," Duncan muttered. "I always smell this way in June."
"Aye, and well I ken it, but it may have been a surprise to yer bride." He was silent for a moment, then glanced at him curiously. "I also heard yer wife atellin' me ma that the marriage was to save her from her stepda?"
"Aye. 'Tis why they searched fer a groom so far north and paid so generously. The king wished her far and away from her home in England."
"Hmm." Taking in Duncan's irritation, he murmured, "She seems a fair brave wench."
"'Tis no brave to go riding about a country ye ken nothing about. 'Tis foolish."
"Aye," Ian allowed fairly, then added, "But she showed no fear when we stopped her. The wench simply introduced herself and told us what she was about."
"That just shows she doesna even have the sense to be afraid," Duncan muttered, but had to wonder himself. Iliana was proving herself to be a bit more than he had first thought she was. The cold, prissy image he'd had of her did not fit with a lass who went charging off on her own in a foreign land in search of spices. She seemed to have one or two surprises up her sleeves...not to mention under that damn belt of chastity of hers.
"Is there something amiss, Lady Dunbar?" When Iliana merely continued to stare at the servants working across the room, Adina McInnes glanced at her husband questioningly. But he merely shrugged his own uncertainty.
Frowning, Adina turned back to the younger woman. "Lady Dunbar? Lady Dunbar!"
Iliana turned finally at the strident note in her hostess's voice, concern wrinkling her brow. Then, understanding struck and her eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, you mean me? Of course! I am sorry. I fear I am not used to being called 'Lady Dunbar'." She paused, flushing brightly, and shrugged helplessly as she admitted, "'Tis the first time I have been addressed so."
Lady McInnes relaxed and laughed lightly. "Aye, 'tis fair odd to be addressed by one name all yer life, then suddenly find yersel' with a new one."
"Aye."
"Mayhap 'twould help if I addressed ye by yer given name?"
"Oh, aye. That would be fine," Iliana agreed at once. "You must call me Iliana."
"And I am Adina and my husband is Robert," Lady McInnes announced, then lifted an eyebrow. "Ye seemed preoccupied by our servants...Iliana. Is anything amiss?"
"Oh, nay. 'Tis just...Well, truthfully, I was noticing how well dressed they are." Her gaze slid around the room again, running over the impeccably clean plaids on every servant present.
"Ahhh." There was a depth of understanding in that drawn-out word. "Then no doubt ye are wondering why yer own servants are not so well garbed?"
Biting her lip, Iliana nodded reluctantly.
"Well, me dear, 'tis no from lack o' coins, I can tell ye that," Robert McInnes announced, joining the conversation. "'Tis a well-kept secret, but what with his sheep and the plaids their wool produces, yer husband is rich."
"Duncan makes plaids?" Iliana asked with surprise.
"Aye. Well, no hissel'. But his people do. They make a muckle coin from it, too, I can tell ye. They make some o' the finest plaid in Scotland."
Iliana's eyebrows raised at that. "But then why do they all dress so shabbily?"
There was silence for a minute, then Adina McInnes sighed. "My dear, there are a few myths about the Scots that ye may have heard ere coming?"
Aye, she had heard a thing or two ere coming to this land, Iliana thought wryly, but most of it was so unflattering she dared not repeat it, so merely nodded.
"Well, there is one myth in particular that says Scots are...er...cheap." Forcing a pained smile, she cleared her throat. "'Tis not true."
"Except in Duncan's case," Lord McInnis inserted with amusement.
Adina whirled on her husband in horror. "Nay, husband. He is simply very frugal."
"Hah!" Robert laughed. "Don't fret, wife. He be friend to me and would not mind me sayin' he is cheap...and cheap he is," he announced firmly with some pride. "He also be muckle rich from it. There's no doubt in me mind that he has a mountain o' coins hid somewhere. He must. Dunbar plaids sell like cow chips during a cold winter. We even buy some from him."
"Then there is his trade in protection," Adina murmured.
Iliana blinked at that. "Protection?"
Robert nodded solemnly. "Dunbar has some o' the finest warriors around. And the women are damned prolific. They breed 'em by the bushel. Duncan sorta rents them out to those in need when they can afford to hire 'em. He makes a muckle o' coins that way as wel
l."
Iliana digested this silently. She was less interested in the fact that Duncan hired himself and his men out to those in need of a strong arm than the knowledge that he actually had a plaid-making enterprise right there at Dunbar. "But if his people make the finest plaids around, then why do they all wear--" Iliana began, stopping when Lord McInnes waved the question away.
"Because he sells them all, lass. He gives his own people only one a year. At the New Year. He sells the rest."
"I see," Iliana murmured with a frown.
Adina cleared her throat. "I would like to give ye a proper welcome, lass. Mayhap ye and Duncan will honor us by staying to take sup with us?"
Iliana's eyebrows rose at that. "Oh, Duncan is not coming."
Adina arched one eyebrow, her mouth tilting in slight amusement at that. "Oh, I've no doubt he'll be along. He's hardly likely to leave his wee bride runnin' about on her own."
"Aye, well...He does not even know I am here," she confessed with a sigh.
This only seemed to amuse the older woman more. Leaning forward in her seat, she smiled gently. "My dear child, there is little, if anything, that a laird--and his son--don't ken, or learn about, here in Scotland." She paused and sat back then, a smile of satisfaction gracing her lips as the front doors burst open.
Turning, Iliana glanced toward the door and felt her heart sink. It was Duncan entering and he looked angry. Very angry. Almost rabid. Aye, he looked as if he could not wait to get her alone. Oddly enough, that simply stimulated an urge in Iliana to avoid such an occurrence.
Turning abruptly to Lady McInnes, she forced a smile and babbled, "Well, surely then if the invitation is still open, my lord husband and I would be pleased to stay for sup."
She knew she'd made a mistake the moment the words left her mouth. She could actually feel her husband's fury as he moved up behind her.
As he and Ian joined them at the table his expression promised that she would regret accepting the invitation. Sighing inwardly, Iliana listened as Ian repeated what he had learned from Duncan regarding their marriage. The news that it had been arranged to protect Iliana and her mother was not new to them, of course, but what she had not told them--quite simply because she had not known--was the exact amount of the dowry that the king had provided to ensure that the wedding took place.