The scent of several spices assailed Iliana’s nose as she was tugged into the small storage space. She could make out marjoram and nutmeg and the earthier smell of stored vegetables. Then Duncan pulled the door closed and they were enclosed in darkness.

“What—” she began uncertainly, only to fall silent as she found herself tugged into his embrace again, her mouth being ravaged as he leaned her back against what she suspected, from the lumps and bumps pressing against her back, was a sack of potatoes.

Duncan was like a starving man faced with a four-course meal, and all four courses presented on one plate. His mouth and hands were everywhere, seeming to try to touch and kiss every part of her at once. His lips were dancing from her mouth to her cheek, to her ears, to her neck, while his one hand was busy tugging at the neckline of her gown and alternately delving inside of it for a quick squeeze and feel before returning to tugging. His other hand was struggling its way up under her skirts, pushing the gown before it as his leg slid between hers, spreading her own farther apart.

“Husband,” Iliana muttered, only to have her lips covered by his again. She tried to keep her mouth closed against the invasion, but when he reached and cupped her womanhood, she gasped in surprise and his tongue slid into her mouth. Her discomfort was forgotten as his tongue twined around her own, and he finally succeeded at nudging her gown aside enough to free one breast for his attention. Iliana moaned into his mouth and arched her back as he began plucking at an immediately erect nipple. Then she felt his other hand spread the folds of her womanhood to caress her and she clutched convulsively at his shoulders, gasping in a breath of air as his mouth slipped from hers, dipping down to capture her exposed nipple.

Unfortunately, it was that gasp that reminded her of what she had noticed in the kitchen and what had made her struggle there. There was no delicate way to put it. Quite simply, Duncan stunk. Again.

Her previous excitement slipping away like so much smoke in a breeze, Iliana straightened as much as she could in his embrace and began to push at his chest.

Frowning at the heel of her palm suddenly pressing into his collarbone, Duncan pushed her hand away and suckled at her nipple, noting even as he did so that it was becoming soft in his mouth. Frowning, he applied more attention to the aureole, nibbling at it gently, but then his wife’s hand was again pressing into his collarbone.

“What?” Straightening away from her, he tried to peer at her face in the dim light seeping under the door, but it was not enough for him to see her expression. “Why, sweetling, don’t fret so. We’ll not be found in here.”