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.