"Well..." She stared at him helplessly for a moment, then allowed her frustration to rouse her own temper. "Nay, you are right. It will not. No woman wishes to sleep with a stinking, filthy oaf of a man unless she herself stinks so bad she does not notice his stench." She glared at him, chin up. "'Tis understandable. It seems I am not so different from everyone else."
"Are ye not? Well, I would be reminding ye we did not have this problem ere ye arrived."
"That's because the women stunk then, too."
He glared at her. "The men are all comin' to me, looking fer the answer. They wish to ken if I have the same problem with ye, and wha' I do about it."
Iliana shrugged. "What did you tell them?"
"I told them ye caused this problem and ye would fix it. Now..." He propped his hands on his hips and raised his eyebrows. "What are ye going to do about it?"
Iliana glared back, then shook her head in bewilderment. "I do not understand why you all do not simply take a bath. If you and the men would simply bathe--"
"'Tis only the middle of June."
"Aye, I know it is, but surely--"
"We have a certain order here, wife. There is a certain time o' year that the sheep are sheared, a certain time o' year that the fields are reaped, and a certain time o' year that we take a bath."
"Bathing is not a seasonal activity, husband. You could bathe anytime and not suffer for it. You could not harvest the fields at any time. They are two entirely different things."
"Ye don't ken what I am saying--"
"Aye, I do!" Iliana snapped, then sighed. "Seonaid explained to me about the plaids and how grease and dirt keep out the rain. She explained about oatcakes on marches. I understand that you fear the men going soft, but what of the women?"
He blinked at that. "What?"
"Are you not lord over all who reside here?"
"My father--" he began, but Iliana cut him off with irritation.
"Do not quote semantics at me, husband. Legally and technically 'tis true your father is laird here, but in reality you are the one to give the orders. I have seen it. Do you not rule over the women as well as the men?"
"Aye."
"Then why do you not concern yourself with the welfare of the women as well? 'Tis all well and fine that the men must brave the weather and make do with oatcakes while on marches, but what of the women?"
When he merely frowned at her, Iliana sighed.
"Could there not be a compromise? Could the men not have two plaids? One that is clean and pleasant to look upon while they are here at the keep with their wives, and one that is greased and dirty to protect them from the elements when away?"
Duncan glared at her for the suggestion. "Things have worked well enough the way they have been for years, wife. There is no need fer--"
"Who is the coward afraid of change now?" Iliana interrupted dryly. Then she rolled to the side of the bed, gained her feet and headed for the door, only to be caught up by Duncan as she moved past him.
"I am not finished with ye yet."
"But I am finished with you!" Iliana said coldly. Tugging her arm out of his hold when it slackened in surprise, she hurried to the door. She had it open and was rushing down the hall before he regained himself.
"Wife!" he roared, starting after her.
Muttering under her breath, Iliana grabbed up her skirt and raced down the stairs to the great hall, nearly colliding with her father-in-law in the process. Iliana paused long enough to give him a nervous smile and quick curtsy, then skirted around the man and hurried to the kitchen.
"Duncan!"
"Not now, Da!" Duncan snapped, maneuvering around the older man and sparing barely a moment to spear his sister with an accusatory glare before chasing after his wife.
Iliana cast Elgin a nervous smile as she charged through the kitchen, intent on escaping to the gardens. Her steps didn't slow until she pushed through the door and came upon the women, chattering away in the garden as they worked. It seemed her absence had loosened their tongues. While they had been silent and grim all morning, now they were chattering away like magpies.
"And then the smelly fool just stood there naked, bellowing like a sick cow."
"What did ye do?" Janna gasped, seeming totally enthralled by the older woman's story.
"I yelled right back. 'Ye'll not be touchin' me, Willie Dunbar!' I says to 'im. 'Not til ye take a bath!'"
"What did he say?"
"'Yer me wife, Mavis Dunbar, and ye'll be seeing to me needs or else. 'Tis yer duty.'"
"Nay!" Janna clucked with disgust. "Sean said the very same thing to me! I'd like to have brained 'im."
"I did brain Willie."
Janna gaped at the older woman in disbelief. "Nay! Ye dinna! What did he do then?"
"Slept the night through with nary another peep out o' him."
Her jaw dropped at that. "What did he do when he woke this morn?"
"Naught. I told him he'd too much to drink last night and passed out drunk on the floor."
"Ye didna! Oh, Mavis, yer awful." She shook with laughter. "I could never brain Sean."
"Aye, well, yer Sean's a different kettle o' fish than me Willie. He'd never raise a fist to ye."
"Nay, he wouldn't," Janna agreed solemnly, sadness on her face as she peered at the older woman. "Why do ye not tell Duncan about Willie, Mavis? He'd tend to him fer ye."
"I told ye, Janna, Duncan cares little if we women are happy, so long as the men have no complaint and will follow him off to battle."
Janna opened her mouth to respond, then froze, catching sight of Iliana. Fear crossed the woman's features, and Iliana opened her mouth to quickly reassure her that all would be well. But before she could, the scuff of a footfall drew her gaze around to see Duncan standing behind her. The shock on his face told Iliana that he had heard the whole conversation. S
he actually managed to feel sorry for him. Then his face closed up and he whirled away, rage oozing from every pore of his body as he headed back the way he had come.
"Oh, lord."
Biting her lip, Iliana glanced back at a worried-looking Mavis and tried to offer a reassuring smile. "He is not mad at you, Mavis. There is nothing to fear."
"Aye," Janna agreed, sighing. "'Tis my guess it's Willie who should be worrying."
Iliana's eyes widened at that; then she muttered under her breath and hurried after her husband, aware that the women were dropping their hoes to follow.
Chapter Eleven
Duncan had already exited the kitchen by the time she reached it. Rushing past a startled Elgin, Iliana hurried to the door that still swung slightly from her husband's exit and pushed through into the great hall. She was just in time to catch a glimpse of his stiff form as, ignoring his father's startled questions, he slammed out of the keep.
"What the devil?" Angus stared after his son with astonishment, then glanced toward Seonaid, who only shrugged in bewilderment. Duncan had looked furious. The swish of the kitchen door opening caught his ear and brought him around in time to step out of the way as Iliana charged by in pursuit of her husband.
"Lass! What--" he began, but she was already charging out of the keep.
"What the devil," Angus repeated and took a step after her, only to pause when several women crashed through the kitchen door and raced across the room with Elgin hard on their heels. Catching the roly-poly little man, Angus drew him to an abrupt halt, demanding, "What goes on here?"
Elgin shook his head in bewilderment. "I don't ken, me laird. First they rushed one way, now they rush another. But judging from everyone's expressions, 'tis not something to be missed." With that, he hurried on.
Muttering under his breath, Angus took up the tail end of this odd parade, gesturing for Seonaid to follow.
Grabbing up her skirts, Iliana sped after her husband as he charged toward the men working on the wall. Her steps slowed, and dismay made an O of her mouth a moment later when Duncan reached them, grabbed a tall burly fellow by the scruff of his neck, and tossed him to the ground.
The man was up at once, ready to defend himself. But he lowered his fists in confusion when he saw through his rage that his assailant was Duncan.