Iliana groaned and tugged the linen back up over her head.
She heard Angus's voice chiding her husband, "What the devil be the matter with ye, lad? Guard yer tongue! Ye'll hurt her wee feelings." There was a pause, and then her father-in-law spoke again to Duncan. "Come along, you. Ye shouldna be up. We'd best git ye back to bed ere ye fall over." She heard them move toward the door. "How's yer head?"
"Achin'," she caught Duncan mutter, and she fought the urge to peer out at him.
"Aye, well. We'll pour some uisgebeatha into ye and fix ye up right fine."
Duncan's only response was a grunt.
Sighing with relief as she heard the door close behind the two men, Iliana lowered the linen. A touch on her hair brought her glance to her mother. Her expression as she caressed the damaged tresses was mournful.
"Is it very bad?"
Lady Wildwood smiled wryly at that, then nodded. "Aye, I fear so."
Iliana shifted in the bed, then asked, "What of my eyebrows?"
"Those will grow back. We must just be grateful that you were not burned. Your gown went up in flames. Had Angus not been a quick thinker and covered you with his own body to smother the flames..."
"Aye. We are fortunate to even be alive." She closed her eyes wearily, then popped them back open. "What of the guard?"
"His throat was slit."
Iliana blanched and her mother nodded solemnly. "The worst of it is that Greenweld's man is still out there. Angus had the men search the keep again, then searched the inner and outer bailey, but they could not find him. Whoever he is, he is clever."
"You found nothing?"
Angus nodded unhappily at his son's question. "We even searched the keep again but found nothing that would hint that there was anyone here who should not be."
"Damn."
"He is clever, I shall give him that."
"Too damn clever," Duncan muttered bitterly. "He almost succeeded this time."
"Aye. Were it not for the fact that Iliana and her mother remained calm, I should have lost all o' ye." He shuddered even as he said the words, but Duncan did not notice. He was sunk in bitter reflection.
"Once again I failed to protect her. 'Twill not happen again. I shall not leave her side until the bastard is found."
Angus frowned as his son got to his feet. "But I thought we had agreed 'twas her mother the man is after."
Duncan nodded. "Unfortunately, me wife seems to be cursed with the dubious skill of getting in the bastard's way. Repeatedly. So, I will guard me wife. Her mother is yer problem."
"My problem?" he asked warily.
"Aye. As me wife, Iliana's safety is my problem. As laird here, her mother's safety is yours." He grinned suddenly. "Guard her well. Iliana would be mighty upset with ye did ye let her mother come to harm." Turning on that note, he headed up the stairs, leaving his father staring after him.
"My problem," Angus muttered again, then glanced up as Allistair entered the room.
"I have informed the men that we would be searching the woods on the morrow. Is there anything else ye wish from me ere I retire?"
"Aye. Fetch one o' the men to me. I would have a guard at Lady Wildwood's door this--" He paused, suddenly recalling the sweet smell of her as he had held her in his arms earlier that day, soothing her and reassuring her that her daughter would be well. Iliana had been covered with soot at the time, her gown in scorched tatters about her body as Gertie had worked over her. Despite his worry over his daughter-in-law, Angus had found it difficult not to notice the sweet scent of the woman in his arms, and how good she felt there.
"Ye wish a guard fer Lady Wildwood this night?" Allistair asked when Angus continued to sit, lost in thought.
Giving his head a shake, the older man blinked at his nephew, then stood. "Nay. Nay. I'll tend to it mesel'. There is naught else this evening. Ye may go to yer bed. Sleep well," he added as the younger man nodded and turned away.
Reaching for his tankard of whiskey, he downed a good deal of it, then set it aside and got to his feet. Straightening the English surcoat he wore, he headed up the stairs, planning what he would say as he walked. He would announce that he felt she needed a guard and as laird it was his duty. He would insist on having the maid dismissed and on himself sleeping on the servant's pallet in the room. 'Twould be an uncomfortable bed, but he could see to her safety. Besides, mayhap she would offer him a more comfortable alternative.
It seemed to Iliana that her mother had barely left the room when the door was opened again, this time for Duncan to enter. Iliana eyed him uncertainly as he crossed the room, trying to gauge the reason for his presence.
"Yer hair."
Iliana reached up to touch her shorn locks self-consciously. Her mother had cut most of it off, and her hair now reached no further than her chin and curled about her head in a most untame fashion. "It is very short," she murmured uncomfortably when he merely stared at her.
"Aye."
Iliana let her hands drop to her lap and stared at them unhappily. Perhaps it was the after-effects of the fire. Or perhaps it was the stress caused by the two attacks and her worry for her mother, but Iliana suddenly found her vision blurring with tears. They pooled at the corners of her eyes and began to leak down her cheeks.
Spotting the droplets of water slipping down her face, Duncan moved quickly forward. After a hesitation, he sat carefully on the side of the bed and reached out uncertainly to grasp her hands where they rested in her lap.
Iliana blinked her eyes, clearing her vision enough that she could see the large, clean hand holding hers, but that only made her cry harder. "You bathed," she sobbed.
Duncan's eyes widened in surprise at her wail, and he peered at himself curiously for a moment; then understanding covered his features. "I was most like covered with soot. They must have cleaned me up while I was unconscious."
The last word had barely left his lips when his wife suddenly slid a hand around his head, turned him toward her, and drew his face down to hers. Duncan was so stunned by the action and the passion of her kiss as her lips slid hotly across his, that he merely sat frozen, hardly breathing as she slid her tongue into his mouth. He was actually afraid to move, afraid that it would bring this stunningly sweet interlude to an end.
Misunderstanding his lack of reaction, Iliana tugged her mouth away and leaned her forehead on his chest, shuddering with silent sobs. It seemed she could do nothing right. Her marriage was in ruins as far as she could tell and 'twas all her fault. She'd been unreasonable. Most men did not bathe much. She'd been to court. She knew the nobility had a distrust of bathing.
In truth, while the others had stank to Iliana, she had always felt to be the one out of place. Seonaid had been right about Iliana's having had a lonely childhood. She had not had friends. Even at court she had not been allowed to play. She had only been able to stand and wistfully watch as the other children had raced about, muddying their good clothes and laughing. Now, as an adult, she seemed to be repeating that part of her life. Standing by and watching wistfully as her husband took on a mistress who had no problem with his smell and most likely stank herself. Why could she not be like others?
"I don't want ye to be like others."
Iliana blinked at that announcement and flushed as she realized that in her distress she had spoken her thoughts aloud. Shuddering around a sob, she raised her tear-stained face slowly to peer at him, positive she could not have heard him correctly.
"I like the way ye smell, and I don't mind the keep clean and the food tastier. I even like yer hair all short and curly like that. I wouldn't have ye change. And if this marriage is a mess, 'tis sure I am that I had more than a hand in making it one."
That was when Iliana realized that she must be dreaming. Surely no other explanation would do for what was going on here.
"'Tis no dream, love," Duncan murmured, letting her know she had spoken aloud again. Standing now, he tugged at the shoulder of his plaid. It unraveled and slid to the ground. He then quickly shrugged out of the shirt he had worn beneath it. Dropping that to the floor, he faced her silently for a moment, letting her look her fill before reaching for the linen that was clutched to her chest.