Iliana had relaxed at that news, sure that all would be well. Soon after she was safely married in Scotland, her mother would be removed from her contemptible marriage, and Greenweld would be dealt with.

Now Iliana realized what a fool she had been. She had never once considered what sort of man the king had chosen to husband her, merely trusting him to see to her best interests. But if Duncan Dunbar was his idea of a suitable husband, then the king had very poor taste. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed dispiritedly. ’Twas a shame she had not realized that ere giving up her chance at escape. But she had not. She had been more than satisfied to allow the king to see to everything. She had actually been relieved to place her future, her happiness, her very life—and her mother’s as well—in the hands of these men. More the fool, she. It was obvious that by doing so, she had lost any chance at happiness. She could only hope her mother would be able to gain her freedom through this sacrifice.

Worrying her lower lip, she tugged fretfully at the skirt of the pale cream dress Ebba had chosen for her to wear. ’Twas the best she had. No doubt it would be ruined by day’s end as well. Grimacing, she dropped back to lie upon the bed with a sigh. What could be more foolish than worrying over a gown when she was expected to marry and perform intimacies with that creature below?

Her gaze caught on the drapes above the bed and she frowned. They were a lovely shade of cream with embroidered dark red and blue flowers underneath, though she could have sworn…

Sitting up, she stood and turned to stare at the bed. Aye, ’twas more a brown with burgundy and muddy blue flowers on the outside. No doubt the effect of smoke from the fire. Were she to hazard a guess, Iliana would say that the bed drapes had not been cleaned in at least ten years. Perhaps more. She would not hazard a guess as to the state of the bed linens themselves.

“’Tis a shame we have no flowers for you to hold.”

Iliana whirled to gape at her maid as she brushed fretfully at the stains on the yellow gown Iliana had worn earlier.

“Flowers?” she exclaimed, bringing Ebba’s startled gaze to her own. “Flowers! What for? So that I might look pretty while marrying into this family? I suppose you think we should put bows on sheep on the way to the slaughter as well?”

Ebba merely stared at her mistress blankly. She had never seen the young woman lose her temper so before. Her gaze became incredulous when in the next moment, her mistress tore off her veil and launched herself at the bed, ripping at the linens that covered it.