"I don't think they meant to kill Iliana."
Duncan glanced toward his father in surprise.
Shaking away thoughts of his wife's near death, Duncan lifted the ale he had just poured for himself, grimacing over the way his hand shook as he brought the drink to his mouth. He was surprised by the depth of the emotion the attack had wrought in him.
"Nay," Duncan agreed at last, setting his mug back on the table and peering at his father. "Ye think 'twas one of Greenweld's men come fer her mother--to kill her before she can have their marriage annulled."
Angus nodded slowly. "'Tis the only thing that makes sense. 'Twas common knowledge that Lady Wildwood has inhabited yer chamber since her arrival. 'Twas not common knowledge that she would not be there this eve. I did not even ken that."
The very same thought had occurred to Duncan. So far as he knew, only he, Iliana, and her mother had been aware of the change in sleeping arrangements. The assassination attempt must have been meant for her mother. "Think ye then that one of Greenweld's men managed to slip past the guard at the gate?"
"Aye. Hundreds of people enter and leave the bailey every day. The men would not be watching for a lone man on foot. 'Tis the only way he could have got in."
"I shall have to double the guards on the gate. Check all coming and going. I'll also arrange a search of the castle and bailey, then take a large party to search the woods, and the rest of Dunbar land as well. If he is still here, we shall catch him."
"Hmm," Angus murmured. "No doubt the cowardly bastard is gone by now, but better safe than sorry."
They were both silent for a moment, then glanced up as Lady Wildwood entered the room.
"Gertie is finished now," she announced. "Iliana is resting."
Nodding, Duncan shifted under his mother-in-law's gaze, then got uncomfortably to his feet. "I must speak with the men about what I wish done on the morrow," he muttered, easing his way around her, so eager to leave that he did not notice when she leaned toward him slightly and gave a gentle sniff.
Angus noticed, however. He also noticed the frown upon the woman's face. Curious, he raised his eyebrows at her as she stepped to the table and sank down next to him.
It was a moment before she acknowledged his questioning glance by murmuring, "Much to my distress, I have learned that all is not well with our children, my lord, and we must help them solve this trouble."
An hour later, she was smiling again as she rose to her feet. "'Tis a sound plan, my lord. Mayhap we can yet salvage this muddled marriage."
"Indeed," Angus murmured, standing as well and taking her hand to kiss it with a gallantry that surprised her.
She was blushing brightly in reaction when footfalls announced Duncan's return. Flushing a deeper rose at his raised eyebrows, she muttered her excuses and fled.
Angus watched her go with a gleam in his eye, then smiled and shouted for Elgin as his son joined him at the table.
"'Tis late. Elgin will have returned to his cottage."
"Oh, aye." Angus got to his feet again. "I shall have to see to it myself, then."
"What?"
"A bath."
"What?" Duncan could not have been more shocked had the man announced his intent to don a gown. "But 'tis not yet the end of July."
Shrugging, Angus moved toward the kitchen. "What matter is that? There are women present now. Attractive women, I might add." The grin he tossed over his shoulder was lecherous. "Lady Wildwood is a fine-looking female. She deserves a bit of effort. Certainly more than the wee bit of time and trouble that taking a bath will cause me. Women don't like a stinking man, son. Even a stinking man in fine clothes does not impress them. Unless they reek so bad themselves that they cannot smell them."
Duncan glowered over his father's words, trying to take them in. His father had never taken more than two baths a year, and yet now he was willingly calling for one. It made no sense. In fact, the only thing that he seemed able to grasp was his father's last statement and that made him frown.
"Iliana smells like wildflowers," Duncan murmured, moving to stand by his father, who had paused at the kitchen door. His mouth worked briefly, then he admitted, "She thinks I stink."
"Ah." Angus nodded solemnly, already having been informed of this by the lady's mother.
"'Tis why she avoids me. She says my smell offends her."
"Ah ha." Angus was silent for a moment, then leaned toward his son, sniffing curiously. Nose wrinkling as he caught whiff of him, he straightened and pursed his lips. "Mayhap ye should take a bath, then."
"'Tis not July yet."
"So?"
"So, I bathe twice a year. In January and July. I willna change me habits to please her. 'Sides, ye only bathe twice a year."
"Duncan, ye can't live yer life based on me habits," Angus interrupted impatiently. "I have no wife so bathe when I wish."
"And so shall I."
"Then don't complain to me that yer wife avoids yer embrace, fer in truth ye do reek. 'Sides, I am bathing now," he added, storming into the kitchen and bending to shake the two young kitchen lads who slept on pallets before the fire.
"She is my wife!" Duncan announced arrogantly, following on his heels. "'Tis her duty to--"
"Duty, me arse!" Angus roared, straightening from nudging the second of the boys. His prodding had barely roused the lads, but his-bellow snapped them completely awake and brought them to their feet.
"What?" Duncan stared at his father's irritated face, wide-eyed.
"'Tis not duty yer speakin' o' here, 'tis yer own blasted stubbornness."
When his son's jaw dropped at that, Angus nodded firmly.
"Ye think she should take ye as ye are. Well, me boy, I have news fer ye; the church can quack on all it wants about a woman's duty, but not a one o' these men are married or ken a damn thing about women. Women are not the simple creatures the church makes 'em out to be. In truth, I think they're about as unsimple as can be. And they can make yer life heaven on earth or eternal hell. If yer willin' to suffer the hell, then stand firm on this. But if ye wish yer wife to come to ye willingly, then take a damn bath!"
He paused to take a calming breath before resting his hand on his son's shoulder. "
And if that doesn't help ye, I can tell ye this much. Yer mother was about as perfect a woman as ever walked this earth, but she would've booted me from her bed as soon as look at me, did I go to her smelling o' manure, sweat, and filth."
When Duncan's eyes widened incredulously at that, Angus nodded firmly. "A stickler was yer mother. Liked a clean home. Like yer wife. And liked a clean bed with a clean man in it. She made me bathe once a week. At least."
"Nay," Duncan denied at once. "Ye bathe twice a year--"
"I bathe twice a year now," Angus corrected grimly. "And I wouldn't even do that did I not start to smell so bad I offend even mesel'." Shaking his head sadly, he confessed, "I don't like to bathe. I used to, but no more. It reminds me o'yer mother. We use to bathe together. Frolicking and teasing each other with the water and soap..." His eyes clouded and drifted far away. Back to when his beloved Muireall had been alive. He stayed like that for a moment, memories playing out on his face; then his gaze cleared and he sighed. "It breaks me heart to step into a bath kenning she'll never join me there again. Or anywhere else."
"But no one here at Dunbar bathes more than twice a year."
"Duncan," Angus interrupted, "'Tis fair unpleasant to bathe, then get back into a stinking plaid. No one has complained 'cause they knew ye wished to make a better life fer them. So they kenned they would have to give up some things 'til ye saved enough to do so."
"But we have enough now, and the men don't bathe."
"Because ye haven't bathed. They are following yer example." Suddenly impatient, he shook his head with disgust. "Ye told me yersel' that yer wife smell of flowers, and judging by the way ye said it I would guess it pleases ye. How would ye like it did she smell as ye do?"
Duncan grimaced at that question, already knowing the answer. He had been repulsed by her the day she had fallen in the manure, and he had been even more repulsed by Kelly's stench and filth earlier that evening.
"There ye are, then." Angus nodded at his son's telling expression. "Mayhap ye can then understand why yer wife reacts to you as she does."
Duncan sighed his resignation at that but still complained, "But she is changing everything, Da. Nothing seems the same since she arrived. The keep is clean, the women are clean and wear new plaids, the food is spiced, and my chamber is full of chests."