“Aye, well,” Iliana murmured uncomfortably, resisting being pulled back into his embrace when he tried to tug her against him again. “’Tis not so much that, my lord. But—” She floundered briefly, not wishing to anger him by stating the problem, then latched onto the only real excuse she had to offer. “Mama is awake and hungry, and I actually came below to fetch her some broth or—”

“Well, we’ll make it a quick one then, shall we?” he murmured seductively, bending slightly to catch the hem of her skirt and begin sliding it up her legs, his fingers brushing over the suddenly tingling flesh of her calves as he did.

Iliana gasped in surprise at the warmth that suddenly pooled in the pit of her belly as his hands slid the length of her legs, then moaned aloud as she smelled what she had inhaled in that gasp. It had been bad enough in the kitchen, a wide open area with the scent of tonight’s supper simmering on the air, but in this enclosed space, his scent seemed to outweigh the smell of even the spices that surrounded them. All she could smell was—

“Horse dung.”

Duncan stilled at that, his hands clasping her thighs beneath her skirt. “What?”

“I—You have been working with the horses?” she asked carefully.

“Aye.” She heard rather than saw his surprise at her guess. “I was helpin’ in the stables early this morn. One of the mare’s was havin’ difficulty foaling and needed a wee hand gettin’ the foal out.”

Iliana groaned aloud at that. She knew what he had been doing to help out. He had knelt in the straw in the stable, reached inside the animal, grabbed the foal by the legs, and pulled the poor wee beast out of its mother, getting himself covered in blood and muck while he was at it. Then he had most likely wiped himself off with a rag and moved on to hammering away upstairs without ever even considering bathing. In fact, she would bet her life that he had not thought to bathe at all since the day she had fallen in the dung nearly a week before. Day by day he had worked at building the new rooms he wished to add, becoming coated in sweat, dust, and dirt, and never once thought of cleaning up. ’Twas no wonder he smelled like the stables. Actually, worse than the stables.

“How did ye ken?”

Iliana sighed at his question. “I could smell it.”

He went completely stiff at that.

Sensing his anger, she stepped to the right and felt for the door. Light splayed across both of them as she tugged it open. Wincing at the fury on her husband’s face, Iliana decided that, in this instance, retreat might be the better part of valor, and hurried out into the kitchen, nearly running right over a startled Elgin.

“My apologies,” she muttered, attempting to hurry past him.

“Wife!”