Turning back, he saw that Iliana had risen once more and his scowl deepened. “Yer rather like a rabbit, are ye no, lass? I press ye down and ye pop right back up. Settle yerself,” he instructed not unkindly and pressed her back onto the bench before his gaze slid over her head.

He began a storm of twitching and nodding then. Iliana began to think the poor man was suffering a fit, until she glanced over her shoulder and saw his son standing behind her, squinting at the signals his father was giving him.

Growing impatient, the elder Dunbar finally snapped, “Set yerself beside her, lad. Woo her a bit.”

“Woo her?” Duncan was taken aback. “We are getting wed, Da. Not acourtin’.”

Angus Dunbar rolled his eyes at that, then peered at Bishop Wykeham as if for commiseration. “The young today, eh, Bishop?” He shook his head, then his attention was caught by a gray-haired woman who entered the room from what Iliana suspected were the kitchens. “Ah, good. Refreshments.” Taking the pitcher from her, he handed the empty one over, then turned to pour the liquid into the tankard he had decided would be Iliana’s. Filling it to the brim, he set it before her, then moved on to first empty, then fill, tankards for the bishop and Lord Rolfe.

Iliana lifted the tankard she had been given toward her mouth, only to pause and stare down into the murky drink doubtfully. There appeared to be something foreign floating on the top of the liquid. It was a bug of some sort.

“What be bothering ye? Do ye no care fer ale?”

Iliana glanced at her betrothed. He was still squinting, but it seemed he could make out enough to know that she was not drinking the ale his father had poured her.

“Nay, there is—I am not thirsty just now,” she lied faintly, unwilling to offend.

“Ah well.” Taking the tankard, he lifted it to his mouth.

“Oh! But—” Iliana began in dismay, but it was too late. He downed almost the entire tankard in one swallow…. And the bug with it, she saw as he rested the now empty tankard back upon the table between them.

“’Tis no sense it agoin’ to waste,” he murmured cheerfully, flashing her a brief smile before wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

Iliana stared at him wide-eyed. For one brief moment when he had smiled, his emerald eyes sparkling with good humor, her husband-to-be had taken on the look of an entirely different man. He had looked quite handsome for a moment, despite the grime and soot on his face and whatever else was staining it just now. Of course, he had ruined that at once by wiping his mouth on his sleeve and bringing her attention to the fact that the fine, white fabric was hopelessly stained from such repeated actions. Among others.

“My lady?”