"Ye've got it back on."
Iliana sighed at the tone of his voice and gave up all attempts at feigning sleep. Opening her eyes, she peered at him unhappily. "Tis sorry I am, husband, but--"
"Sorry? Nay, yer not sorry." Glaring at her irately, he let the linen drop back to cover her with disgust. "Yer cold. Yer one o' those women I have heard about who don't enjoy the mating and will do anything to avoid it."
"Nay!" Iliana denied at once, grabbing at his hand when he turned to move away. "I do enjoy it. Truly," she assured him when he sneered at the claim, then added, "Truly I do, but I find I can not enjoy it when your scent is so foul that it distracts from the pleasure you give me. Could you not just bathe and..." Her voice trailed away to silence as he tugged his arm free.
"Aye, ye would like that, would ye not? Do I bathe, surely ye will favor me with yer attentions," he sneered. "Well, I will remind ye once again, wife, that 'tis yer duty to submit to me. Ye are denying me a husband's rights, which gives me every right to put ye aside."
Iliana stilled at that threat, and he gave a harsh laugh.
"What is the matter? Surely ye don't care? Nay, of course not. Did ye care, ye wouldn't refuse me yer favors."
When Iliana merely stared at him silently, he turned away in disgust. "Worry no more. I'll not sully yer precious linens with my foul smell. I'll take mesel' off to a more welcoming bed."
Iliana stared blankly at the door as it closed behind him, his words repeating themselves in her head. A more welcoming bed. Did he intend to seek his pleasure elsewhere? Her eyes narrowed at the very thought, anger welling up within her at the idea of his sharing the passion and intimacy they had experienced with someone else. Teeth snapping together, Iliana pushed the linens aside and got to her feet, only to pause.
She had refused him. Did she wish him back in her bed as he was? Iliana shifted uncomfortably. She did not care for his stench. Could she put up with it to keep him from straying?
The years ahead rolled out in her mind, Duncan coming to her after a day of hard labor, his body slick with sweat, glistening in the firelight. He would shrug his plaid to the floor, then his shirt. Shadows from the fire would dance across his wide chest and strong legs as he moved toward her, took her in his arms, and...she would catch a whiff of him.
Groaning, Iliana crawled unhappily back into bed. While the idea of his seeking his pleasure in another bed was most distressing, the idea of being forced to welcome him into her own when he smelled of the stables was really no better.
"Yer a buxom wench, Kelly." Duncan addressed the enormous breasts that floated before his eyes. They were bulging out of the top of the low-cut gown that bound them. Thinking they meant to attempt escape at any moment, he reached out to push them down, back into their strappings. But the movement unbalanced him somewhat, and he ended up grabbing one of the massive mammaries through the gown that covered it and holding on as he swayed where he sat.
I'm drunk, he realized with dismay, then decided it didn't matter and raised the nearly empty pitcher in his other hand to his mouth and gulped the last of the liquid down.
"That's enough, that is." Grabbing the pitcher from him, Kelly set it on the small table next to the bed where Duncan sat. When he scowled at the loss, she laughed slightly and took his empty hand, placing it against her other breast. "Ye've been a naughty man, me laird, not comin' to see me fer so long. Kelly's missed ye."
"Aye, well, I've been busy." Duncan's head lolled forward, landing between her generous breasts.
"Aye, with yer English wife." The woman pouted, but when Duncan did not raise his head to see it, she frowned slightly and tugged his head back. Her lips tightened when she saw that his eyes were closed and he appeared on the verge of sleep. "Yer in yer cups, ye are."
His eyes opened at that and he grinned, one hand dropping from her breast to slip around and pinch her behind. "Aye, but not so far in it I cannot doin' me business."
"Aye, well, I've yet to see the day when yer that fou," she agreed with dry amusement, then gave him a gentle push that sent him dropping back onto the bed.
Smiling at the surprise on his face, she tugged the neckline of her gown down so that her breasts popped out, her smile deepening at the hunger that immediately lit his eyes. "Let us see if ye can still ride the night out, or if that English wife o' yers has ruined ye," she murmured, yanking the skirt of her plaid up to her thighs and crawling atop him on the bed.
Duncan had just opened his mouth to deride that possibility when the woman leaned forward and plopped her breast into it. Eyes widening, he began to suckle automatically, only to pause as the acrid scent of sweat intruded on his senses. Frowning, he caught the woman by the arms, ending her efforts at tugging up his own plaid, and pushed her away.
Sighing, Iliana rolled onto her back once more and glared into the darkened room. It was impossible for her to gain her sleep when her mind kept racing over the fact that Duncan was right this minute thrusting himself into another woman's body. The pig, she thought irritably. Was it so much to ask that he take a bath? Even if he would just wash himself down, she would be pleased to remove the belt.
Muttering under her breath, she shifted onto her side away from the door, then stiffened at the soft click of it opening. She heard it shut softly, then the rustle of rushes as he crossed the room, and anger immediately began to burn within her. So, he had pleasured himself elsewhere, then thought to join her in this bed? If that was the case, he had another think coming.
Rolling abruptly onto her back, Iliana opened her mouth to blister him with her tongue. The words that would have bubbled forward were replaced with a shriek of horror, however, when she saw the dark form poised over the bed, a knife upraised to plunge into her. If she was startled at the sight, her attacker was equally taken aback by the fact that she was obviously not asleep. A blessing that; it made him hesitate for a moment. Just long enough for Iliana to gather her senses and start to roll quickly away from him.
Her attacker regained himself at her movement and lunged forward, bringing the knife down as she moved. Iliana felt heat emanate suddenly from her side; then she crashed onto the floor with a thud. She screamed again as she found her legs tangled up in the bed linens, hampering her efforts to get as far from the bed and the attacker as possible.
The crash of the bedroom door brought an end to her shrieks and Iliana peered warily over the bed, relief making her sag when she saw that her attacker was gone.
"Iliana!"
Recognizing her mother's panicked voice coming down the hall, Iliana sighed wearily and began to push at the sheets tangled around her legs. Candlelight lit the room a moment later, and she glanced up to see her mother, Ebba, Gertie, and Lord Angus all rus
h into the chamber. They paused inside the door, peering around the seemingly empty room, until they spotted her on the floor on the other side of the bed. Then her mother handed her candle to her maid and rushed forward.
"What is it, dear?" Lady Wildwood hurried around the bed, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was dressed only in her undertunic.
Laird Angus did not miss that fact, however; his eyes were glued to the older woman as she reached her daughter's side and bent to help her anxiously to her feet.
"Was it a nightmare? Did you fall out of bed?"
Angus drew his eyes reluctantly from the mother's scanty attire to peer at his daughter-in-law. His gaze was immediately drawn to the splotch of red blooming on her white gown. "Yer bleedin'!" He was across the room before he had finished making that observation.
Iliana glanced at her side with a frown. The heat she had felt as she had rolled off the bed had been the knife slicing through her side, it seemed. There was a tear in her tunic and blood soaking into it where she had been cut. "'Tis not so bad," Iliana murmured. "'Tis just a scratch, really."
Ignoring her words, Angus bent to pull the sides of the slit in her gown apart, and examined the cut beneath it. He was frowning when he straightened. "What happened?"
"Someone came into the room. I thought it was Duncan and rolled over to speak to him, but it was not him--"
"Who was it?" Lady Wildwood asked, wide-eyed.
"I do not know. It all happened so quickly. And it was dark. I saw a man, but his face was in shadow. Then I saw the knife." Shuddering, she pressed her hand to her side to ease the pain. "I screamed and rolled off the bed as he stabbed."
"'Tis good ye did, else ye would not be alive to make these explanations," Angus muttered grimly, then glanced toward the door where a small crowd was gathering. When he did not see his son among them, he turned back to Iliana. "Where is my son?"
She hesitated briefly, then reached up on tiptoe to whisper in his ear.
Lady Wildwood raised her eyebrows at the action, her curiosity piqued.... Especially when thunderclouds began to gather on the man's face.