"Or if 'tis a dream," he said now, tugging the material gently away, "'tis a dream I don't want to end."
Iliana swallowed and glanced down at herself as the linen slid smoothly across her body. She was clad only in the chastity belt. Her gown and undertunic had both been ruined in the fire, as had all the chests bearing the rest of her clothes. It seemed that the belt was the only thing she had left in the world to wear. That was why, after bathing and before having her hair cut, she had re-donned the item. At that moment, however, she wished it too had burned.
Duncan paused when he saw what she wore, but before he could feel disappointment or upset at the sight of it, Iliana reached for the ring of keys on the rough wooden table beside the bed. When she singled out the odd-looking key he had noticed on a much earlier occasion and moved it toward the lock, Duncan caught her hands and relieved her of the ring. He would undo the lock himself. He had fantasized doing so for quite long enough.
Holding the keys in one hand, he offered her his other and urged her to sit on the side of the bed. Once she had shifted to sit as he wished, he knelt on the floor before her and set the keys on the bed.
"Do you not wish to--" Iliana began with bewilderment, then fell silent as his lips covered hers. This time, it was she who sat still and breathless as he kissed her, but not for long. Groaning as his tongue swept inside her mouth, she slid her arms around his neck and clutched him closer as he seemed almost to devour her. It was a sore disappointment when his lips left hers to wander across her cheek, but then they nibbled eagerly at her earlobe as he breathed into her ear, and Iliana shuddered, arching instinctively until her breasts brushed across his chest, the hair there teasing her nipples to small, pebble-like peaks that seemed to beg for his attention.
As if they begged out loud, Duncan suddenly kissed a trail down her neck and over her collarbone, dropping lower still until he found and laved one eager nipple.
Iliana knew she was moaning, and embarrassment made her pause briefly until she realized that her husband was not silent either. He was muttering words of appreciation and grunts of pleasure as he suckled at her. Those sounds only managed to enflame her more and she clutched her hands in his hair, tugging on the soft strands slightly until he released her nipple and peered at her. Iliana kissed him with all the pent-up passion within her.
This time their kiss was rough and hungry. They were both panting heavily when he suddenly tugged his lips away and knelt to attend to her breast again, nipping and biting gently at the tender flesh there. Crying out, Iliana tossed her head back and clutched him closer to her. When he pushed at her shoulders suddenly, she tumbled backward onto the bed. She lay with her legs hanging off of it, her belly rippling and quivering as his lips traveled across it. He licked her flesh along the top of the belt, his hands sliding down to grasp her hips and hold her still as she began to thrash slightly on the bed.
He continued that way for what seemed forever to Iliana, licking, nibbling, and kissing the flesh around the belt, her belly, the sensitive curve of her hips, her thighs. She was positive that he was trying to drive her mad and was thrashing violently on the bed when he finally reached for the key and unlocked the contraption.
Iliana had barely gasped her relief of being free of the obstruction when his head suddenly bowed between her legs once more, his kisses finding the very core of her. Startled and already almost mad with passion and need, Iliana cried out and began to buck beneath him, every muscle in her body seeming to convulse at once. When it ended and she was left with only the occasional small spasm, she lay limp on the bed, positive she would never be able to move again.
She was wrong. Duncan showed her that a short moment later as he began to caress her again.
Sunlight was pouring in through the window when Iliana awoke the next morning. Smiling, she sighed and stretched on the bed, then rolled onto her side, frowning when she saw that the spot beside her was empty. Duncan had already left the chamber.
Stifling the disappointment that that realization brought her, Iliana sat up on the bed and frowned. She was in Seonaid's room. It was where they had put her after the fire the day before. The fire that had devoured her room and every stitch of clothing she owned, she realized suddenly with dismay. But before she could get too worked up over that, Ebba rushed in carrying a collection of gowns.
"Lord Duncan sent me up with these for you," she explained excitedly, dumping the gowns on the bed, then picking them up one at a time and spreading them out. "Are they not lovely?"
Iliana reached out to brush a hand gently over the material of one of the gowns. "Aye. They are lovely," she said unhappily, bringing amazement to her maid's face.
"Are you not pleased at his thoughtfulness?"
"Oh, aye, 'twas thoughtful. I hope their owner does not mind," she added with a bit of asperity.
Understanding dawned. "Ah. You fear they were his mistress's castoffs," she guessed correctly, then shook her head. "Fie on you. Think you he would be so insensitive? These are his mother's gowns. Can you not tell by the quality? No village girl would have such finery."
"His mother's?" Iliana murmured faintly, noting now that while they were of good quality, they were somewhat old-fashioned.
"Aye. And that is not all. He has spent the morning talking with your mother while you slept and now has sent Allistair to seek out the material merchant."
Iliana's eyebrows rose at that. "He has?"
"Aye."
Iliana was out of bed in a trice and shifting through the gowns on the bed. After a moment, she paused, disappointment on her face. "But these are all undertunics, Ebba. I cannot go below in any of these."
"Oh, aye. I almost forgot." Rolling her eyes, the woman moved to the chest beside the door and quickly opened it to shift through its contents. A moment later she straightened, a neatly folded swath of material in hand.
"Your husband told me this was for you," she announced, returning to her side. "'Twas to be a wedding gift, but he never got around to giving it to you."
The maid avoided meeting her gaze as she said the last part, and Iliana smiled wryly. No doubt the truth was, Duncan had not given her this "gift" ere now because she had not behaved as a true wife. It seemed last night had changed things. They were getting a new start on their marriage. Mayhap all would turn out well now. In fact, she was determined it would. She and her husband had straightened out quite a few things the night before...hadn't they?
Frowning suddenly, she considered that. The truth was, she had revealed her soul to her husband, and he had made love to her with a tenderness and passion that had been different than the first time they had consummated the marriage, or even the time he had loved her in the woods. It was the tenderness that had made it different, she supposed. Not that he had been rough those first two times. But this time there had been something different, something more than the passion that had flamed and consumed them both those other times. He had almost seemed to be paying homage to her.
That must mean something, mustn't it? She wondered over that worriedly, chewing on her lip. In truth, her husband had said very little that would make her think things would be different now. While he had said that he did not wish her to change, he had not said that he himself was willing to do so. He had made no promises to bathe more often or...Or anything, she realized, sinking to sit on the bed.
"Why do you not unfold it and take a look?" Ebba asked with a frown, bringing Iliana away from her glum thoughts.
Sighing, she unfolded the material, slightly surprised when she saw that it was a plaid she held.
"He told me how to help you don it," Ebba announced suddenly with a smile. "He even showed me. Was that not thoughtful?"
"Aye." Iliana forced a smile and stood. "'Twas most thoughtful."
She would not despair. Despite the fact that her husband had made no promises and voiced no pledges, she would give him the benefit of the doubt. He had given her this plaid. It must mean something. Perhaps it was his way of saying what he could not say with words.
It was time for the noon meal when Iliana arrived below dressed in one of the undertunics and the plaid her husband had gifted her with. Everyone seemed to be at table but for Duncan and Allistair. Iliana took her seat beside her mother and glanced curiously around.
"You slept late, my dear. Are you quite recovered from our excitement yesterday?"
Iliana nodded at her mother's question. "Where is my husband?"
"He is meeting with the material merchant."
Iliana's gaze narrowed on the older woman's secret smile. "Why?"
"He has things he wished to purchase," was the obvious answer, and Iliana grimaced at it.
"What things?"
"Material, I suppose."
Before she could question her further, Iliana's attention was turned by Duncan's entering the room. She was aware of his presence the moment he stepped through the keep doors. It seemed to her that the very air itself in the hall was suddenly different, and she could not understand why no one else noticed. She seemed the only person who had sensed his entrance.
He caught her gaze then and grinned, making Iliana realize that she had been smiling widely at him. Flushing slightly, she lowered her gaze abruptly to her trencher, feeling suddenly shy.
Her self-consciousness was short-lived, however, for the keep door slammed open behind him, and Iliana peered around to eye it curiously. Allistair was coming through the door shouldering the weight of an unconscious man. It was an injured Englishman.
Chapter Seventeen
Duncan stood and scowled at the unconscious man Allistair was half-carrying into the keep.