Duncan ignored her, his gaze wandering to the cheeks of her bottom on either side of the leather. ’Twas a fascinating sight. The round, smooth pink flesh, separated by the dark brown leather. Reaching out, he caressed one cheek lightly and smiled. The belt was a great relief to him. For a moment, he had thought he had gotten more than he had bargained for in a wife. Pinching one perfect cheek for the scare he’d had, Duncan smiled over her startled squeal, then flipped her onto her back again, his gaze turning to the lock that held the contraption closed.

“How do ye undo this?” Slipping a finger beneath the center strip, he ran it along her skin until it rested against her womanhood, where he gave the leather a gentle tug.

“A key,” Iliana answered thickly, then swallowed.

“Where be the key?” His finger slid back up along the belt, setting off a clamoring within Iliana that occupied her briefly. She was damn relieved when his hand stilled and his head raised toward her in question.

Clearing her throat, she met his gaze. “I…” Pausing, she swallowed and tried again. “I will give you the key if you take a bath.”

Duncan stilled, confusion his only expression. “A bath? ’Tis not July yet. Why the devil should I take a bath?”

“July?” Iliana frowned. “What has that to do with it?”

“I bathe twice a year,” he told her proudly. “The last day o’ every January and every July. Why would ye wish me to change that and bathe in the middle o’ June?”

“Because…because I find your odor offensive?” she offered timidly.

“What?”

“I said—”

“I heard what ye said, woman! I am not deaf. What the devil do ye mean?”

Arms stretched above her head and lower body trapped beneath his, Iliana was beginning to feel like a sacrificial virgin. Temper flaring, she snapped, “You smell like a chamber pot! I do not care to be near you and I will not give you the key unless you take a bath!”

Duncan pulled back to stare at her in dismay, completely flummoxed by her audacity. “Ye are denyin’ me rights as yer lawful wedded husband?”

“Nay! I deny you nothing,” Iliana contradicted at once, trying to sound reasonable as she added, “But if you will not do me the courtesy of taking a bath, I will not—”

“Ye are denyin’ me!” he accused, storm clouds gathering on his forehead.

“Nay, I—” Her words died as he suddenly released her and threw himself from the bed.

“Well! We shall just see about that!” he snarled, collecting his discarded clothes.

Sitting up slowly, Iliana anxiously watched him dress. “What will you do?” Her mouth tightened when an angry look was her only answer. He was nearly fully dressed ere she gave in and asked, “Will you have the wedding annulled?”