Iliana had paid little attention to the people in the bailey as she had crossed it. Now she shifted, craning her neck to peer about, and immediately began to worry at her lip as she saw that they appeared in need of a good cleaning and some attention. Their clothes were worn and stained, their hair shaggy and unkempt, and most of their faces dirty. As for the bailey and the keep itself, both were in sore need of repair.

“Lady Wildwood.”

Iliana turned at that bluff greeting, unaware that she was still frowning as she met the gaze of her future father-in-law.

Startled by her expression, the older man reached back to grab his son’s shoulder. “Help ’er down, Duncan,” he ordered, giving his son a shove forward that sent him stumbling into the side of her mare.

Iliana peered wide-eyed at the grimy hands that were now raised in her general direction, then glanced to their owner’s dirt-streaked face and red-eyed, squinting state. Swallowing unhappily, she reluctantly released her reins and slid off her mount. He caught her easily and set her gently on the ground, and Iliana swiftly stepped away from him, unable to keep her nose from wrinkling at the heavy, stale scent of ale, spirits, and sweat that wafted from him.

Despite his squinting, Duncan evidently caught her action, for he raised an arm to sniff at himself, then shrugged. He smelled fine to himself, though she smelled finer. There was the scent of wildflowers about her.

“My lords.” Iliana dropped a curtsy, then hesitated and peered toward the bishop for help. She felt quite out of her depth in this situation, and she had no idea what to say or do. This was the man she was to marry. A veritable stranger…who stank.

“Mayhap we should move indoors, Angus,” the bishop suggested gently. “It has been a long journey and refreshments would not go amiss.”

“Oh, aye. This way, lass.” Suddenly remembering his somewhat rusty manners, Angus Dunbar took Iliana’s arm and turned to lead her up the stairs to the keep, leaving the others to follow.

The older man’s legs were a fair sight longer than hers. She had to grab up the hem of her skirt and nearly run to keep up with him. By the time they reached the top step, she was panting slightly from the effort.

Taking in her breathless state, Angus frowned at her worriedly. “Frail,” he muttered to himself with a sad shake of the head.