Reaching for his tankard of whiskey, he downed a good deal of it, then set it aside and got to his feet. Straightening the English surcoat he wore, he headed up the stairs, planning what he would say as he walked. He would announce that he felt she needed a guard and as laird it was his duty. He would insist on having the maid dismissed and on himself sleeping on the servant’s pallet in the room. ’Twould be an uncomfortable bed, but he could see to her safety. Besides, mayhap she would offer him a more comfortable alternative.

It seemed to Iliana that her mother had barely left the room when the door was opened again, this time for Duncan to enter. Iliana eyed him uncertainly as he crossed the room, trying to gauge the reason for his presence.

“Yer hair.”

Iliana reached up to touch her shorn locks self-consciously. Her mother had cut most of it off, and her hair now reached no further than her chin and curled about her head in a most untame fashion. “It is very short,” she murmured uncomfortably when he merely stared at her.

“Aye.”

Iliana let her hands drop to her lap and stared at them unhappily. Perhaps it was the after-effects of the fire. Or perhaps it was the stress caused by the two attacks and her worry for her mother, but Iliana suddenly found her vision blurring with tears. They pooled at the corners of her eyes and began to leak down her cheeks.

Spotting the droplets of water slipping down her face, Duncan moved quickly forward. After a hesitation, he sat carefully on the side of the bed and reached out uncertainly to grasp her hands where they rested in her lap.

Iliana blinked her eyes, clearing her vision enough that she could see the large, clean hand holding hers, but that only made her cry harder. “You bathed,” she sobbed.

Duncan’s eyes widened in surprise at her wail, and he peered at himself curiously for a moment; then understanding covered his features. “I was most like covered with soot. They must have cleaned me up while I was unconscious.”

The last word had barely left his lips when his wife suddenly slid a hand around his head, turned him toward her, and drew his face down to hers. Duncan was so stunned by the action and the passion of her kiss as her lips slid hotly across his, that he merely sat frozen, hardly breathing as she slid her tongue into his mouth. He was actually afraid to move, afraid that it would bring this stunningly sweet interlude to an end.