Clutching the linens to her chest, Iliana stared at him blankly, not quite sure what to do. She could hardly order him from his own bed but would be deviled if she intended on joining the great smelly oaf in it. After briefly hesitating where she stood, she spun away and trudged to the corner of the room near the door. It was the only spot that was clear of her chests. Her expression grim and shoulders stiff, she made a nest of the linens on the floor, then crawled into her makeshift bed and closed her eyes.

Chapter Seven

“Ah, there ye be, lassie!” Smiling benignly, Laird Angus crossed the great hall to meet Iliana as she descended the stairs. “I’ve somethin’ fer ye. Gilley finished makin’ them up yesterday. I would’ve given ’em to ye when ye returned from McInnes last eve, but ’twas so late and ye looked so tired, I thought to leave it fer today.”

Iliana paused at the base of the stairs and forced a smile as she reached for the keys he held out. “Thank you, my lord.”

“No need for thanks, lass. They be yours by right,” he assured her with a pat on the shoulder, then turned toward the door. “I’m off then. I’ll be out and about if ye need me.”

Closing her fingers around the keys in her hand, Iliana watched him go, then turned to peer toward the trestle tables at the other end of the room. Relief rippled through her on gentle waves when she saw that, but for herself, the great hall now appeared all but empty. Actually, it was not the fact that the room was empty that made her relax suddenly, but that it was empty of her husband. It meant she could put off thanking him for his thoughtfulness of the night before.

’Twas a cold, hard bed she had chosen for herself last eve. Castles were invariably drafty, and while the unyielding stone floor of the bedchamber was covered with rushes, they had done little to cushion her body. Iliana had shifted and twisted stubbornly about on her makeshift bed for hours in an effort to get comfortable before finally dozing off. However, when she had awoken this morn, it was to find herself curled up on the bed, her gown wrinkled beyond redemption and caught up in the linens she was bundled in. It did not take a genius to realize that her husband must have moved her to the bed at some point during the night. Or this morning. He had not been in the room when she had awoken.