“That’s it, sweetling,” he muttered, urging her to move against him with the one hand still at her hip. “That’s it. That’s…Damn!”

Iliana hardly heard his curse as he poured himself into her. She was too taken up with the waves of feeling that were crashing through her own body as she succumbed to his touch and the feel of him inside her. She was still shuddering with it when he slid her legs gently off his shoulders and collapsed atop her, crushing the gown that was bunched up at her waist.

“’Tis sorry I am, wee Iliana,” he groaned as soon as he could catch his breath.

“Do not be,” Iliana gasped back. “I liked it. We must try this quick one again.”

A knock at the door had them both peering toward it. Duncan sighed, then growled, “Aye?”

The door opened to reveal Angus. Embarrassment flushed his face as he saw what he had walked in on. Then it was replaced by anger, apparently at having his suspicions confirmed. “Damn ye, Duncan! Ye’ll work the poor lass unto death do ye not control yer urges once in a while. Is it not bad enough that the lass gets no rest of a night? Must ye be botherin’ her all through the day as well?”

Duncan was amused. “Yer the one who said ye were wantin’ grandbabies by nine months’ end,” he reminded him.

“Well, surely to God ye’ve planted one in her by now!” the old man snapped. “Ye’ve certainly been plowin’ her enough. Now let the poor lass alone, else she’ll not have the strength to survive the birthin’.”

Thoroughly embarrassed by this point, Iliana shoved her husband away and leapt from the bed, straightening her gown as she did.

“I need only don my hose, my lord. I’ll be along directly,” she half-whispered, grabbing the stockings and dropping onto the foot of the bed again to begin tugging them up one leg.

Angus turned his gaze to her, his expression softening along with his voice. “Lass, don’t rush yersel’ so. A few minutes will not matter so much, and with this muckle brain as a husband ye appear to be needin’ whatever strength the Good Lord gave ye.” His gaze turned back to Duncan, who was lying exhausted on the bed where Iliana had left him, and he scowled darkly. “Get yer sorry arse out o’ bed, man, and dress yersel’ quick. Yer wee wife’ll need ye.”

Iliana stiffened and stared at him at that, but Duncan merely frowned. Unlike Iliana, he had not been taken completely by surprise at the arrival of her mother. Word spread faster in Scotland than a horse could travel, and he and his father had known for several days that Lady Wildwood and two servants were heading for Dunbar. But nothing had suggested she was not in the best of health. Until now.