Misunderstanding his lack of reaction, Iliana tugged her mouth away and leaned her forehead on his chest, shuddering with silent sobs. It seemed she could do nothing right. Her marriage was in ruins as far as she could tell and ’twas all her fault. She’d been unreasonable. Most men did not bathe much. She’d been to court. She knew the nobility had a distrust of bathing.

In truth, while the others had stank to Iliana, she had always felt to be the one out of place. Seonaid had been right about Iliana’s having had a lonely childhood. She had not had friends. Even at court she had not been allowed to play. She had only been able to stand and wistfully watch as the other children had raced about, muddying their good clothes and laughing. Now, as an adult, she seemed to be repeating that part of her life. Standing by and watching wistfully as her husband took on a mistress who had no problem with his smell and most likely stank herself. Why could she not be like others?

“I don’t want ye to be like others.”

Iliana blinked at that announcement and flushed as she realized that in her distress she had spoken her thoughts aloud. Shuddering around a sob, she raised her tear-stained face slowly to peer at him, positive she could not have heard him correctly.

“I like the way ye smell, and I don’t mind the keep clean and the food tastier. I even like yer hair all short and curly like that. I wouldn’t have ye change. And if this marriage is a mess, ’tis sure I am that I had more than a hand in making it one.”

That was when Iliana realized that she must be dreaming. Surely no other explanation would do for what was going on here.

“’Tis no dream, love,” Duncan murmured, letting her know she had spoken aloud again. Standing now, he tugged at the shoulder of his plaid. It unraveled and slid to the ground. He then quickly shrugged out of the shirt he had worn beneath it. Dropping that to the floor, he faced her silently for a moment, letting her look her fill before reaching for the linen that was clutched to her chest.

“Or if ’tis a dream,” he said now, tugging the material gently away, “’tis a dream I don’t want to end.”

Iliana swallowed and glanced down at herself as the linen slid smoothly across her body. She was clad only in the chastity belt. Her gown and undertunic had both been ruined in the fire, as had all the chests bearing the rest of her clothes. It seemed that the belt was the only thing she had left in the world to wear. That was why, after bathing and before having her hair cut, she had re-donned the item. At that moment, however, she wished it too had burned.