“Aye, you are right, of course.” Sighing, she underlined her initials in the flour and stood, pausing when Elgin suddenly leaned forward to change the W she had written to a D.

“Yer a Dunbar now, me lady,” he reminded gently as she stared blankly at the letters on the tabletop—somewhat surprised that he could even read.

“’Tis something me wife has difficulty recalling. I thank ye fer remindin’ her, Elgin.”

Groaning inwardly, Iliana raised her head slowly to meet Duncan’s furious gaze.

“I’d be having a word with ye, wife.” His emphasis of the title was added with biting sarcasm.

Avoiding Elgin’s eyes, Iliana got reluctantly to her feet, mumbled her excuses, then moved to stand in front of Duncan. The minute she came to a halt, he grabbed her arm and turned to drag her out of the kitchen.

Seonaid was crossing the great hall toward the kitchen door when they came through it. She looked once at Duncan’s furious face, then raised an eyebrow in Iliana’s direction.

“Duncan wishes to talk to me. I won’t be a minute,” Iliana assured Seonaid as Duncan dragged her past the other woman.

“She’ll be quite a while,” her husband corrected. “So ye might as well go about yer business.”

After a hesitation, Seonaid started to follow them, muttering, “She’s supposed to be teaching me wifery. How long do ye plan to keep her?”

“Long enough to teach her some wifery,” was his grim response.

“Nay, Duncan!” Seonaid cried in alarm. “Yer not to wear her out. Da said—”

“Da can get his own wife,” Duncan snarled, charging up the stairs, pulling Iliana behind him. She had time only to throw a vaguely reassuring smile at Seonaid before the great hall was out of sight and Duncan was opening the door to their room.

“In.” It was a silly order; he was already propelling her through the door and toward the bed as he spoke. But Iliana kept her thoughts to herself as she bounced onto the bed to the sound of the door being slammed shut.

“Ye’ve done naught since arriving here but make a nuisance o’ yersel’!” he shouted, crossing the room to loom over her. “Ye’ve disobeyed every order I’ve given ye. Wasted money on luxuries better done without! And refused me me rights as husband.” He glared at her bitterly as he said that, then added, “If that were not bad enough, now ye have every wench in the clan pitted against her own man. What have ye to say fer yersel’?”

Iliana sat up slowly on the bed, frantically searching her mind for the correct response. “I am sorry,” she offered helplessly at last, and Duncan gaped at her.

“Yer sorry?”

“I’ll give the men their plaids. They need not bathe.”

“That is yer answer? That will not put the women back in their beds.”