The Key (7 page)

“Are ye even listening to me?”

Iliana pulled herself from her thoughts and met her husband's annoyed glare. He had held
his temper through dinner and during the first part of their ride home, waiting until
they'd reached this spot. Then he had suddenly grabbed the reins of her mount and drawn
their horses to a halt to make his announcement.

“Aye, husband,” Iliana murmured now. 'This is whereDunbarland begins."

He nodded grimly. “Ye would do well to remember that in future, wife. For if ye ever
leaveDunbarland again without me permission, I shall beat ye.”

Her back stiffening, Iliana eyed him warily.

“And once I've finished beatin' ye, I'll most like lock ye up fer a goodly time as well.”
The grim expression that accompanied his words seemed to indicate the conviction behind
them, and Iliana shifted uncomfortably as he continued. “I do not make such a threat idly.
Yer actions were beyond foolish today. They could have got ye killed. I don't ken who yer
enemies were at Wildwood, but as a member o' the Dunbarclan, ye now have a whole new set
o' 'em to add to it. Anyone o' them could have taken ye today and done with ye as they
willed; whether that be rapin', or killin', or both, and I would've been able to do naught
about it except to avenge the wrong done ye after the fact.”

Iliana blanched, only now beginning to realize just how foolish she had been.

Duncannodded solemnly. “I can see ye understand how thoughtless and emptyheaded yer
actions were. That bein' the case, I'll say no more about yer foolishness in chasing after
the spice merchant so. Howbeit, know this. It was a waste o' time. Ye'll no be wastin' me
coins on spices. I've plans for them already as ye heard this night, and I'll not have ye
wastin' me newfound wealth on spices and cloth and the like.”

“Aye, husband,” Iliana murmured, eager to soothe him.

Iliana was silent and subdued for the rest of the journey, weariness creeping over her so
that it was a relief when they finally arrived home. Not wishing to angerDuncanand bring
more censure upon herself, she did her best not to shrink from him as he helped her to
dismount. But once he had set her upon the ground and released her, she hurried up the
steps to the keep, not waiting to see whether he followed.

As late as it was, Laird Angus was still up.

Seated in one of the two chairs by the fire, he was staring sadly into its depths but
glanced up when she entered. Spying her, he smiled and offered a word of welcome.

Managing a weak smile in response, Iliana murmured a greeting as she crossed to the
stairway, then trudged silently up the steps to the second floor. The door of the bed
chamber she had come to think of as her own had never looked so welcoming as it did at
that moment. Pushing it open, Iliana stepped inside and started to close the door, only to
find it resist her push. Turning back in surprise, her eyes widened as she saw
thatDuncanhad followed her and was now entering the room. She had not even considered that
he might expect to sleep here tonight. A foolish oversight, she supposed wearily. After
all, her husband had been sleeping in Seonaid's room, but that young woman had returned
from her hunting trip today. That being the case, Iliana supposed she should have
expectedDuncanto join her in their room that night but the thought had not occurred to
her, and she now eyed him warily as he entered.

***

Closing the door,Duncanwalked to the bed, thoroughly ignoring his wife's glare. Her
expression made him feel something of an interloper as he began to unbuckle his sword, and
that annoyed him. It was his bloody room. And she was his wife. Though one could be
forgiven for not believing that since she seemed to have no concept of how a wife should
behave. A wife was her husband's possession as surely as his castle, his cattle, and his
sword. She was to subject herself to her husband's will, not stomp about in a belt of
chastity, insulting his odor and demanding that he bathe.

His gaze slid to his wife as an image of her standing in naught but that damn belt came to
mind. Her flesh had been nearly as white as those precious linens of hers, with just a
blush of pink, he remembered, licking his lips.

Aware that his body was growing excited at the memory,Duncansighed and turned his back to
her. Twas a form of torture to do otherwise and he had suffered enough such torment of
late.Duncanhad found it impossible to forget the way she had trembled and shuddered in his
arms on the morning after the wedding. In fact, he seemed to think of little else but that
and how to get her out of her bloody belt so that he could finish what had been started
that morning. He had considered the matter carefully these last three days. He had
considered simply cutting the belt from her body, for other than the metal locking device
itself, the rest of the contraption was merely leather. But it was thick leather that
pressed tight to her flesh. He could do her great damage trying such a trick. That
morning, while she had been busy below, he had ransacked her chests in search of the key
but hadn't found it. He had even considered beating her until she gave him the key,
butDuncanhad always despised men who were violent to those weaker than themselves, and
could not justify such behavior to himself. His threat to beat her should she
leaveDunbarunattended again had been an empty one, made out of fear for her safety. He had
not overstated the peril she faced by such foolish behavior.

It was foolish of him to feel the way he did, he supposed, but he could not seem to help
himself. Once the worst of his anger over her refusal had passed,Duncanhad found he
actually admired her spirit in doing so. Few women would have dared to say nay to their
husbands, especially since husbands had every legal right and were even encouraged by the
church to beat their wives for lesser crimes. But despite her fear and he had seen it
plain on her face as she had stated her decisions on the matter she had stuck to her guns.

Aye, she had spirit. Her refusal of him, as well as her activities today, were evidence of
that. Unfortunately, they also demonstrated her complete ignorance in the matter of how a
wife should behave. She had many lessons to learn. He only hoped he could find the
patience to teach her properly, for he had found himself unusually shorttempered since his
unsuccessful wedding night. So far he had taken the worst of it out on the men, driving
them, as well as himself, to work to the point of exhaustion on the wall they were
constructing. Even so, when he dragged his exhausted body to bed at night, he could only
sleep fitfully.

Successfully bedding his wife would no doubt go a long way toward curing this sudden bout
of insomnia he was suffering, and he had even considered bathing a bit early to gain the
pleasure that would be his once the belt was gone. ButDuncanfelt sure that if he gave way
in this matter it would begin a dangerous pattern. Nay. Unless he came up with another way
to remove the belt, he very much feared he would have a long wait ere finally managing to
bed his wife. That realization was not one that pleased a man used to getting his own way.

Iliana winced as her husband's sword crashed noisily to the floor. She scowled at his
back, then blinked as his plaid suddenly dropped to the floor as well. Now he stood with
his back to her, the shirt he wore beneath his plaid hanging just to the top of his
behind, and Iliana found her eyes drawn involuntarily to those chiseled curves, and
following the lines of his buttocks to the hard muscled length of his legs. Oddly enough,
she found herself having a bit of difficulty' breathing as she examined him so.

Disturbed by her booty's reaction to her husband's physique, Iliana started to turn away,
only to pause, her eyes instinctively rising to his wide, strong back and arms as he
jerked his shirt upward and tugged it off over his head. She drank in the sight of his
muscles shifting and rippling as he moved, reminded that, for all his odor and irritating
manner, her husband was a very fine figure of a man. Every muscle in his body seemed to
swell and undulate as he bent to tug back the rumpled bed linens, then crawl between them.

That was when Iliana snapped out of her almost mesmerized state. Moved to action, she
hurried forward and snatched at the top linen, trying to whip it off as her husband
crawled beneath it.Duncanwas quicker than she had expected. Catching the tail end, he
tugged back, nearly toppling her onto him. But Iliana caught herself in time, and glared
at him.

“I told you, you shall not sleep on my mother's linens until you take a bath. You will not
stink them up with your filth.”

Duncanwent still, then released the linen abruptly, nearly sending Iliana tumbling to the
floor.

Catching herself, she stared in amazement as he suddenly stood, gloriously naked, before
her. Reaching down, he grabbed the bottom linen that Ebba had used to replace the original
and ripped it from the bed. Tossing it at her, he bent to sweep up his plaid from the
floor and tumbled back onto the bare mattress, pulling the dirty tartan over himself like
a blanket.

Clutching the linens to her chest, Iliana stared at him blankly, not quite sure what to
do. She could hardly order him from his own bed but would be deviled if she intended on
joining the great smelly oaf in it. After briefly hesitating where she stood, she spun
away and trudged to the comer of the room near the door. It was the only spot that was
clear of her chests. Her expression grim and shoulders stiff, she made a nest of the
linens on the floor, then crawled into her makeshift bed and closed her eves.

“All, there ye be, lassie!” Smiling benignly, Laird Angus crossed the great hall to meet
Iliana as she descended the stairs. “I've somethin' fer ye. Gilley finished makin' them up
yesterday. I would've given 'em to ye when ye returned from Mclnnes last eve, but 'twas so
late and ye looked so tired, I thought to leave it fer today.”

Iliana paused at the base of the stairs and forced a smile as she reached for the keys he
held out. “Thank you, my lord.”

“No need for thanks, lass. They be yours by right,” he assured her with a pat on the
shoulder, then turned toward the door. “I'm off then. I'll be out and about if ye need me.”

Closing her fingers around the keys in her hand, Iliana watched him go, then turned to
peer toward the trestle tables at the other end of the room. Relief rippled through her on
gentle waves when she saw that, but for herself, the great hall now appeared all but
empty. Actually, it was not the fact that the room was empty that made her relax suddenly,
but that it was empty of her husband. It meant she could put off thanking him for his
thoughtfulness of the night before.

Twas a cold, hard bed she had chosen for herself last eve. Castles were invariably drafty,
and while the unyielding stone floor of the bedchamber was covered with rushes, they had
done little to cushion her body. Iliana had shifted and twisted stubbornly about on her
makeshift bed for hours in an effort to get comfortable before finally dozing off.
However, when she had awoken this morn, it was to find herself curled up on the bed, her
gown wrinkled beyond redemption and caught up in the linens she was bundled in. It did not
take a genius to realize that her husband must have moved her to the bed at some point
during the night. Or this morning. He had not been in the room when she had awoken.

Duncan's kindness in moving her to the bed had been unexpected. It was also appreciated.
Iliana was aware that she would most likely have been stiff and sore on awaking had he not
moved her, and could only be grateful for his kindness. She supposed it was only right
that she thank him for the deed and had been prepared to do so on coming below. Now that
she knew he was not available to thank, however, she was more than happy to avoid the
necessity for a few hours. It would give her time to sort out her feelings. They seemed to
be in a bit of a muddle at the moment. Much to her distress, while Iliana was grateful for
his thoughtfulness, it somehow made her feel guilty for refusing him his husbandly rights.

Sighing, she started toward the trestle tables, pausing halfway there as she finally
noticed the walls. As per her orders, the servants had apparently whitewashed them while
she was gone and done a miserable job of it. They looked almost worse now than they had
before the whitewashing. Something she had not thought possible.

“Ebba!” Turning, she peered about the empty great hall with a frown. It seemed everyone
had been to breakfast and gone. She was a late riser this monŸng, thanks to her maid.
Where the devil was that woman anyway? Ebba always presented herself at Iliana's door
first thing in the monŸng to aid her in

dressing. Had she done so this mom, Iliana would not have slept so long. Why, half the
morning was already gone and there was much to do.

“Ebb Oh, there you are,” she cut herself off as the woman hurried through the keep doors
and rushed toward her. “Where have you been?”

“His lordship said to let you rest. He said you had not slept well last night.” There was
a question in her eyes that Iliana waved away. She was not in the mood to explain that she
had slept on the floor for part of the night.

“What is this?” She gestured toward the walls, and Ebba sighed.

“Aye. Tis awful, is it not? I tried to tell them they were doing it all wrong, but Giorsal
just keep saying 'twas the way Lady Muireall had done it, and kept on about the business.”

Iliana grimaced unhappily. She was sick unto death of hearing that woman's name quoted at
her. “I somehow doubt Lady Muireall liked streaked walls.”

The maid nodded in agieement. “Shall I fetch Giorsal?”

“Aye. Tell her Lady Iliana does it differently and wishes it done again... And again, if
necessary, until it is right. If they will not follow your instructions, fetch me and I
shall tend to it.”

Her maid nodded Determinedly. “Where will you be, my lady?” “Down in the village. Send
someone to fetch me when the spice merchant gets here.” “Aye, my lady.”

Turning away, Iliana headed out of the keep. Despite what her husband had said the night
before, she fully intended on purchasing the spices. She had no intention of disobeying
him. He had said only that she was not to usehis coins to purchase them. Iliana had her
own to work with. She had found them in a bag in one of her trunks when she had first
rifled through the chests on her arrival. There had also been a letter from her mother and
father, telling her that the coins were a wedding gift.

Iliana supposed the money had been placed there long ago, when she and her mother had
first started the chests. Finding the gift and letter had brought tears to her eyes. The
thought that her father and mother had done such a thing while her father still lived had
made her unbearably sad. Now her thoughts when she pictured the sack in her mind were far
more practical. If her husband refused to pay for the spices, she would do so herself. She
would have her spices.

She also intended to use some of those coins to pay for a couple of women from the village
to come up to the keep and help her start work on the garden. The extra help was needed.
There was much to get done and Iliana was loath to pull any of the other women away from
cleaning the keep itself. Hiring some extra help seemed the best option. Once she had
those two necessities taken care of, she would turn her attention to clothing for her
people. They would not look like paupers for any longer than necessary, but just now, due
to the time of year, spices and a garden were the more important issues.

Half an hour later Iliana returned, well pleased with herself and the four women she had
in tow. All of them were strong, able, and more than willing to work for a few coins.
Entering the keep, she cast a glance and an approving nod at the women reworking the
whitewashing. It seemed this time they were

willing to listen to Ebba's instructions. Though, judging from her maid's expression of
grim satisfaction, it had taken some work to impress upon them the need to redo the wall
properly.

Leading the four new women, Iliana continued on into the kitchens. “Elgin?”

“Aye? Oh! Good morn, me lady.” Wiping the sweat from his brow, the cook smiled at her
anxiously and gave a nod and a bow. “Did ye wish to break fast, me lady?”

The difference in his attitude from when she had first approached him was both noticeable
and appreciated and Iliana showed it by beaming at him. “Nay. Thank you. Actually, I hoped
you might show me where Lady Muireall had her garden?”

“Her garden?” He blinked.

“Aye. Yester mom ye said she had had a garden that had gone to rot and ruin”

“Oh, aye. Well...” He glanced toward the pot he'd been working over, then nodded. “Aye, me
lady. I'll show ye.” Setting down the cloth he'd been holding, he started to lead the way,
then paused to glance back at her. “Ebba said the spice man was acomin' today.”

“Aye.”

“I was a wonderin' what ye planned to purchase?”

Iliana smiled reassuringly at him. “Actually, I thought to discuss it with you after you
showed me where the gardens were, so that I could get these ladies working on it. In fact,
I thought you might have a thought or two on what to plant as well.”

“Oh.” The worry disappeared from his face at once, a smile replacing it. “Oh, that'd be
fine, me lady. Just fine.” Hurrying now, he turned and ushered them out of the kitchen.

Iliana had thought that if they placed the garden where Lady Muireall had hers, there
would be less work involved in renewing it. One look at the spot where the garden used to
be told her how wrong she had been. Twenty years was more than enough time for the garden
to be reclaimed by nature.

“ Tis a muckle mess.”

“Aye.” Iliana sighed, her gaze moving over the women looking dubiously at the “garden.” “I
fear we shall be needing a man or two to help with the heavy work.”

“Aye.”Elginnodded his balding head.

“I have a brother, me lady. He's fair braugh.” It was the youngest of the women who spoke,
a girl of perhaps fourteen.

Iliana peered at her uncertainly. “Braugh?”

“Strong,” the cook explained from behind her, saying the word under his breath so that
none of the women heard.

Touched by his attempt to help her save face, Iliana smiled at him slightly, then nodded.
"Is there anyone

else who knows of a strong man in need of a few extra coins?"

The oldest of the women stepped forward. “My boy's sixteen and strong, me lady.”

Nodding again, Iliana glanced at the younger girl. “Go fetch both boys, please.” She
waited until the girl hurried off, then turned to the older woman again. “I shall leave
you in charge while I see to the spices we need. I wish the garden to be from that tree”
she gestured toward a gnarled old tree on the far side of the garden, then turned to point
to another on the other side“to that one. We shall have to clear the space first and turn
the dirt.” She paused to frown as she peered at the would-be garden. “You shall need
tools. Some spades.”

“I can fetch those, me lady. The laird will have what we need.”

Iliana glanced at the dark-haired woman now and inclined her head. “Ask Laird Angus then.
My husband would be annoyed to be bothered with such a trifling issue.”

The woman nodded and hurried off.

“All right, then. You know what to do. Should you have a question, I shall be inside with
the cook.” Iliana waited for their nods, then turned and led the cook back inside to
discuss what spices he would need.

As it turned out there was very little discussion necessary.Elginhad been thinking hard on
the subject. He knew exactly what he wanted.

Iliana considered the amount and variety he requested, then gave her approval. He asked
for nothing that was too generous or unusual. If anything, she wondered whether he would
have enough spices until the merchant returned again and decided to purchase a little more
than he asked for. Leaving him to his work, she returned to the garden once more.

The spades and the two boys had been fetched and everyone was hard at work when she
reached the garden. Picking up one of the spades herself, Iliana bent to the task of
digging out weeds and old herbs and turning the earth, ignoring the surprised glances of
the other women as she did. Her mother had taught her to respect clothing, but she had
also taught her the importance of hard work. How could you expect servants to perform a
chore were you not willing to join them in it? Digging a garden had never hurt anyone.

“Son!”

Duncanturned at his father's shout, the irritation on his face sending the older man's
eyebrows up in surprise.

“Well, donna ye look a mite unhappy. What be the matter, lad?”

Duncangrimaced at the termlad , his irritation deepening. His father did not usually refer
to him in such a manner in front of the men. But then, it had been one of those days so
far.Duncanhad awoken that morning to find his wife wrapped around him like English ivy
clinging to a castle wall. He'd had trouble sleeping the night before and had still been
awake when Iliana had started snoring from her spot in the comer. Slipping from the bed,
he'd lifted her carefully into his anus and shifted her to the bed. Not that she didn't
deserve to sleep on the floor, but the stone floors in the old keep were fair cold, and
she would most like have caught a chill sleeping there.

'Twas the only reason he'd done it, he'd assured himself then and did so again now. At any
rate, it had been a sublime experience, awakening this morning to find her cuddled against
him. Until she had shifted and that damn contraption she wore had rammed him in the side.
It was then, when so close and yet so impossibly far from all her body had to offer, that
he had determined to find a lock just like hers and take it to Gilley to learn how to pick
it.

But there was not a damn lock anywhere within the keep walls or the village with a similar
design. All he could think was that the Italians for he was sure 'twas an Italian name
she had mentioned as the maker of the thing used some odd Italian sort of lock. At this
point, he was beginning to think he would have to take her toItalyto get it off her... or
take a bath, some part of his brain whispered, and he grimaced at the thought. Damned if
he was going to do that! A man had to start out as he intended to go on. He would not bow
to her whims.

“Nothing be the matter,” he muttered. “ Tis just that I slept little last night.”

Angus grinned. “All thishoughmagandie is catchin' up to ye. Ye need more stamina.”

Duncan's only answer was a grunt. He was damned if he was going to correct his father's
beliefs regarding his lack of sleep. But taking in his father's teasing expression, he
wished wistfully that he deserved it. “What do ye be needin', Da?”

“Oh, aye.” Face sobering, Angus sighed. “ 'Tis yer sister I actually be lookin' fer. I
would have her learn the duties o' a wife ere she marries the Englishman. Sweet wee Iliana
has agreed to do the trainin', but I canna find the chit. Have ye seen her?”

Duncangrimaced over the virago that was tormenting his sleep being called “sweet wee
Iliana” but shrugged. “I have not seen her.” He turned to walk away then, but paused and
turned back as his upset the day before came to mind. “When did ye decide she should many
the Englishman?” he asked accusingly. Had it been his wife who had changed his father's
mind? It certainly seemed so.

All sorts of things had been changing since Iliana's arrival. For instance, his father had
seemed to smile more in the past few days than he had in all the timeDuncanhad known him.
He was not sure that was a good thing. It made him nervous. If his father had been sullen
and quiet up to now, at least everyone had known what to expect. Now he could not tell
from one moment to the next whether the old man would be silent or smiling. He had even
caught him humming under his breath earlier that morning.