"I--" Flushing, Iliana looked away. She had known of that rather annoying little law. "You said yourself that the food is better," she said in self-defense.
"Aye." He nodded solemnly. "Elgin's fare is much improved."
"And your people were wearing rags. 'Tis shameful."
"Shameful to who? They have never said 'twas so."
"Mayhap not, but just look how eagerly they bathed to get to wear the plaids."
"You made them bathe ere ye would give them these 'gifts'?" he sneered, and Iliana found herself blushing again, then frowned at her own reaction and lifted her chin. It had been the proper thing to do. It made no sense to put a clean plaid on a dirty body.
"The only ones who bathed to gain their plaids were the women," he said quietly, as if to himself. "And women like to look pretty."
"What is wrong with that?" she asked.
"Nothing. So long as they dinna forget 'tis what's inside that is most important. I would stand next to any one o' me 'filthy' men, ere I would a clean but shallow coward."
Iliana's gaze narrowed. She got the distinct impression he was referring to her. She was no coward. Had she not tried to escape Greenweld three times? Had she not risked a brutal beating, perhaps even death, repeatedly to save her mother? But when she said as much to her husband, he seemed unimpressed.
"Mayhap ye should consider what ye were really risking so much fer," was all he said.
"What do you mean by that?" Iliana asked warily.
"I mean I suspect ye did all that fer yerself as much as yer mother. Ye don't appear to take well to change."
"That is the biggest load of cow chips I have ever heard!" Iliana snapped, incensed.
"Is it?" he asked quietly. "Every time ye've done something here, ye've used Wildwood as the excuse. Ye want Dunbar and its people as clean as Wildwood. Ye want spices and herbs like at Wildwood. Ye even have Elgin all got up like yer mother's chef."
Iliana frowned at his words, uncertainty plucking at her; then she smiled triumphantly. "What of you? I did not--"
"Have anyone in yer bed at Wildwood either, much as it is now. Yer nearly as pure now as when ye came to me." Walking to the door, he paused to glance back. "When ye've decided to grow up and accept change as a part o' life, ye can come ask me why a clean plaid is not healthy, or why we bathe so little, mayhap even why we have had few spices in our food. There are reasons. Just as there is a reason ye willna share me bed as a proper wife. There are always reasons, and most often they have little to do with the obvious."
Iliana watched the door close behind him, then dropped onto the bed with a sigh.
Iliana peered at the sewing in her hands and sighed. Often the activity soothed her. Not tonight. Nothing seemed to be able to settle her tonight. She kept hearing Duncan's words in her head. Was he right? Did she fear change? It was true that she had been trying to make this place and its people more like Wildwood, but it was because...Well, because it was better to be clean. And better to wear clean clothes...wasn't it? And surely there was nothing wrong with tasty food?
She glanced at the woman seated in the chair across from her. Seonaid. Angus had announced at dinner that the girl was to stay after the meal so that Iliana could teach her some wifery...or else. She'd spent the past hour trying to teach the girl how to make a simple stitch, but Seonaid seemed to have no concept of what a small stitch was, no matter how many times Iliana showed her. She suspected the girl was being deliberately obtuse.
Her gaze slid to the tattered old plaid her sister-in-law wore and she sighed. Iliana had offered her a bath and a new plaid, but Seonaid had refused, claiming hers would do quite nicely for a while longer. Now Iliana couldn't help recalling her husband's words. "Why is a clean plaid unhealthy?"
Seonaid glanced up from her sewing blankly. "What?"
"Duncan said clean plaids are not healthy. Why is that?"
"Why do ye not ask Duncan?"
Iliana's lips tightened at that. "Because I am asking you."
Seonaid shrugged and glanced back at the needle in her hand; then, seeming to decide that this was a good way to get out of the fussy task, set it on her lap and turned her attention to Iliana. "'Tis not that they are unhealthy, 'tis just that a dirty plaid can be more healthy. Ye see, while a plaid is muckle warm, 'tis not waterproof. 'Less it's dirty enough."
Iliana blinked at that. "Dirty plaids are waterproof?"
"Sometimes. It depends on what they're dirty with or how dirty they are. Some men grease their plaids soon as they get 'em, to make 'em waterproof."
"I see." Iliana nodded her head at that, then just as quickly shook it. "But why would one need a waterproof plaid? Why not simply stay indoors when 'tis raining?"
Seonaid laughed. "That is fine if ye've nothing to do, but if ye've to watch the sheep, or stand guard, or if yer marching to a war, or on a hunting trip..." She shook her head. "There is not always shelter. Sometimes yer plaid is yer only shelter. We even sleep in them at times."
A memory of Duncan wrapping himself in his plaid the night she had taken the bed linens from the bed suddenly filled Iliana's mind.
"O' course, that is only true fer the men. The women rarely need their plaids to shelter them from the wind and rain. Most oft they're at home warm and dry."
Iliana considered that, then said, "But the McInnes men wear clean plaids. Surely--?"
"The McInnes are'na warriors."
Iliana blinked at that. "They aren't?"
"Nay. They have muckle money, but few men trained fer battle. They hire Duncan and his men if they have need o' warriors."
Iliana accepted that, then asked, "Why do the men hate to bathe?"
"'Tis cold."
Iliana frowned at the simple explanation. "It may be cold in the loch and out of doors, but 'tis warm inside, and water can be heated for a bath--"
"And then ye'd have to get back into yer dirty plaid," Seonaid pointed out.
Iliana grimaced, then asked, "Wh
y does yer brother not wish the food spiced? It tastes better."
"Aye, and makes oat cakes rather bland in comparison."
When Iliana stared at her blankly, Seonaid sighed. "Duncan has always planned to build an addition onto the keep, and to make the walls extend farther to offer protection to more o' our people. The only way fer him to gain those ends was to earn and save a lot o' coin. To do that, he sold every stitch o' plaid the women weave here, and he and the men hired out fer other people's wars, or to stand guard over other people's flocks. 'Tis hard work. It gets cold at night and the men must put up with bugs, foul weather, and naught but oatcakes fer food. 'Tis not so bad when the alternative is a drafty old keep, with bland food. But next to a warm great hall with clean rushes and tasty food the outdoors can seem unbearable."
"He's afraid they'll go soft," Iliana realized, and Seonaid nodded. "But, now that he has my dowry, he can afford all that. There is no need to hire out the men or--"
"The dowry will be enough to pay for the renovations he wishes, 'tis true. But we must continue to make money somehow to feed our people. No doubt he will still have to hire out the men and sell plaid. Just not as often." Shrugging, she turned grimly back to her sewing.
Iliana sat back with a sigh, her gaze far off as she considered what she had just learned. After what Seonaid had said, she could well understand her husband's annoyance with her over the changes she had made, but had no idea what to do about it. She could hardly tell Elgin to stop spicing the food. He would pitch a fit at the suggestion, as would everyone else now that they had sampled the tastier fare. She supposed she could stop insisting that the men must take a bath to gain their plaids.
A frustrated mutter drew her gaze back to her sister-in-law. The girl had her thread in a terrible knot. Before she could comment or offer help, Seonaid slapped it down onto her lap and peered at her solemnly. "Ye ken that I'm useless at this stuff."
"Nay," Iliana protested at once. "You are simply unpracticed at it."
She rolled her eyes, then sighed. "Is it very important for a wife to ken how to do this?"