Her eyebrows rose slightly at his anxiety. It seemed he had taken her at her word and now feared losing his position unless he could supply tasty fare at mealtime. Iliana could not blame him for bland food when he had no spices, but she would not accept stale or leftover meals. She was about to tell him that, then changed her mind. Let him think her a tough taskmaster. Fear was a great inducement. After she had seen what he was capable of, she would tell him he would never be taken to task for such things.

Turning, she headed for the door. “I shall ask Laird Angus to send someone after the man. Mayhap we can lure him back here for some commerce.”

Unfortunately, Angus was not around when she went out to the bailey to search for him. Her gaze moved reluctantly to her husband, who stood talking to the stablemaster. They had been fighting a war of wills for the last three days. It consisted mostly of ignoring each other. She did not look forward to approaching him now, but they desperately needed spices.

Sighing resolutely, she moved toward him. “Husband?” She saw him stiffen; then he turned slowly to peer at her, his face expressionless. Iliana shifted uncomfortably but forced herself to continue. “I…is your father about?”

Duncan had seen his wife come out into the bailey and feared she might approach him. A problem, that. He had no idea how to deal with the wench. She was refusing him his rights as husband, had told him he stank, and was now running willy-nilly over his home, changing and cleaning everything. What was a man to do with a wife like that?

If this was a normal problem, he would most likely have taken it to his father for a pearl or two of wisdom, but in this case he could not. He would be damned if he would let anyone, even his father, know the humiliating fact that he had yet to bed his wife.