This, the third morning after the attack, she had decided she’d had enough of lying about. There were things to do. She had responsibilities. The first of which was to clean this room. She only hoped it would not be as large a task as the great hall had been.

With that question uppermost in her mind, Iliana cleared a small space on the floor with her foot to peer at the wood beneath the rushes. She nodded her satisfaction on seeing that, while it was dusty, there was no sign of the hardened spills that had filled the great hall.

“There is no need to scrub.”

Iliana glanced up and smiled slightly at her maid’s relieved words. “Nay,” she agreed easily. “Merely a good sweeping once the rushes are removed.”

Ebba sighed at that, and Iliana felt the chafe of guilt. The maid had been running up and down the castle stairs for the last two weeks, fetching this or that; first for her mother, then for Iliana herself.

“Laird Angus is arranging for men to fetch fresh rushes, but why do you not take the women and go out and collect heather to add to them?” she suggested impulsively. “I shall see to removing these and sweeping up.”

When Ebba glanced at her doubtfully, Iliana felt herself flush with shame. Ere coming to Dunbar, the woman would never have been surprised at the idea that Iliana was willing to work. But she had done little real labor of late. Not for the last two weeks.

“Take your time,” she added firmly now. “The fresh air will do you good.”

“You are sure?”

When she nodded, the maid beamed at her and hurried off.

Iliana turned to survey the room again, sighing as she realized just how much work she had set herself up for. But she did not regret it. Her mother had taught her well the importance of treating one’s servants with consideration.

“What has you looking so thoughtful, daughter?”

Iliana glanced up as her mother entered the room and managed a smile. “Good morn, Mother. How do you today?”

“Very well.” Pausing at Iliana’s side, she kissed her cheek, then glanced about the room. “Ebba has gone to collect some heather.”

“Aye. I sent her.”

“So she said. I sent Gertie with her,” Lady Wildwood murmured, then raised her eyebrows. “With your maid gone, who is it you plan to have empty and sweep the room?”

“I thought to borrow some of Duncan’s men to move the chests but will remove the rushes myself.”

“What of your side?”

“Gertie has put on a liniment to keep it from paining me. So long as I do not overdo—”

“You shall not overdo because ye shall not do it.”

Iliana whirled toward the door at that announcement from her husband, and eyed him with displeasure as his words sank in. “’Tis little enough effort to push a broom around, husband. Surely—”