The Key by Lynsay Sands
"There. Now clean the rest o' yerself if ye don't like the way I do it."
"I cannot see," Iliana informed him succinctly, brushing at her burning eyes fretfully.
Sighing, Duncan knelt beside the tub again and took up the soap. Grabbing one arm, he began applying the soap to that. His movements were quick and economical as he cleaned first one arm then the other, and they remained that way until he turned the bar of soap to her chest. Somehow, the swift strokes across her flesh slowed, gentling as the soap disappeared altogether and only his soapy hands moved across her breasts, kneading, caressing, palming.
Eyes still sealed shut against the sting of the soap, Iliana concentrated entirely on his touch, her breathing becoming quick and shallow, her body awakening beneath his caresses. When one hand slid between her legs, Iliana groaned, shuddered, and reached instinctively for him. Bumping her hand into his shoulder, she followed the length of it, wrapping her hand around his neck and whimpering slightly as she begged, "Kiss me. Please, Duncan."
His lips met hers at once, his own breathing shallow as his tongue delved inside. Then he pulled his head away and gasped, "The bed."
Iliana went stiff in his arms, then just as quickly relaxed. "Help me," she breathed against his lips.
Grunting, Duncan half-stood and bent to pick her up. Iliana went easily at first, but after the first three inches or so, suddenly grabbed at the side of the tub, bringing him to an abrupt halt. He had saved himself from falling into the tub the first time because his hands had been free. This time they were not. With Iliana in his arms, there was no way to regain or keep his balance, and he stumbled forward hard.
Iliana immediately twisted in his arms, crying out triumphantly as he landed half atop and half beside her. More prepared for this eventuality than he had been, she quickly shifted atop him, forcing him to sit in the water beneath her.
Smiling, she forced her eyes open somewhat, ignoring the burning sensation that elicited, and reached for the soap. She had just managed to grab it up when he regained himself enough to begin to shift beneath her in preparation of leaping from the tub. Desperate, Iliana immediately reached for and grabbed ahold of his manhood. He stilled at once, shock on his face. She stared back, rather shocked herself, then suddenly released him and threw her arms around his chest, hugging him close.
Duncan started to struggle at once, then paused as the feel of her soapy chest sliding across his own caught his attention. Damn, but it was erotic. Stilling, he let her squish herself against him, becoming aware of the fact that she was sitting on his lap facing him, her lower body pressed intimately to his beneath the water...and it felt damn good.
Realizing that he was no longer struggling, Iliana pulled back uncertainly.
"If ye stop, I'll take ye to bed," he warned quietly, and she immediately began searching about in the water for the soap with one hand, while massaging the soap she had spread on his chest with her own body with the other. Finding the soap, she went to work on him at once, cleaning and caressing him all at the same time.
Duncan lay still for quite a while, hardly paying attention to the hands working gently over his shoulders, under his arms, and across his chest. Instead, his attention was focused on the way her lower body shifted constantly against his as she worked, rubbing against him in a rhythmic manner. At first, he thought his innocent wife was unaware of the contact. But when she reached to work on his hair, her face moving closer to his, he noticed that she was nearly panting as she massaged the soap into his scalp. That had an even more interesting effect on him, making his manhood throb where it pressed flat against his belly, held there by her body as she rubbed it over him. Reaching out, he grabbed her breasts, his hands slipping against the sudsy skin as he caressed and kneaded them.
Iliana stilled at once, a groan slipping from her lips before she lowered them to seek out his, sighing happily when he began to kiss her wildly. Fingers knotting in his soapy hair, she pressed closer, the movement of her lower body becoming a bit frantic with the need surging in her. She was completely taken by surprise when he suddenly reached to the side, grabbed a bucket full of water, raised, then tipped it.
Gasping into his mouth, she shivered as the cold water cascaded over them. Then she clutched at his shoulders as he shifted abruptly in the tub and lifted her from him, raising her as he got to his feet.
Carrying her dripping wet across the room, Duncan dropped her upon the bed and came down on her, their bodies sliding across each other as he kissed her again. When he suddenly clasped her hand in his and drew it down to press it against his manhood, Iliana stilled, then tentatively closed her fingers, squeezing gently. His kisses immediately became slightly frantic, suggesting that she might be doing the right thing, so she moved her hand along his flesh still closed, like a sheath sliding off a sword.
Duncan froze at that, gasped into her mouth, then reached abruptly for her hand and tugged it above her head. Holding it there with one hand, he reached down and began to caress her. His fingers worked frantically, manipulating her into a fevered need until she arched against him, crying out against his lips. When she did that, he shifted suddenly and plunged inside her.
Iliana cried out in shock as a sharp, abrupt pain forced her eyes open. She stared into her husband's eyes, confusion, shock, and pain flitting across her face, and Duncan groaned.
"'Tis the breachin'," he gasped apologetically. "'Tis best done quick."
Iliana nodded uncertainly and he sighed, his forehead dropping to rest on hers. "Tell me when the pain has passed."
Iliana cleared her throat. "'Tis passed," she murmured with a little embarrassment, and he raised his head, peering at her questioningly.
"Truly?"
She nodded, but still he hesitated. Then, reaching between them, he touched her again, his fingers gentle as they slid across her velvet skin.
Biting her lip, Iliana met his gaze, wishing he would kiss her, but he did not. Instead, he watched her as he rekindled the fires he had started earlier, watching her eyes glaze, passion pulling her face taut as she began to shift beneath his touch. His movements became quicker as she bit her lip and moaned, and he shifted his hips as well, intensifying the sensations she was experiencing. It was only moments later that they both cried out and Iliana experienced that satisfaction of which he had spoken.
Chapter Twelve
"My lady!"
"Mmmm?" Opening her eyes, Iliana peered toward the door, frowning when her husband's bulk blocked her view. Then, as memories of how he had come to be there ran through her head, she smiled and pushed herself onto an elbow to peer at the woman who stood in the doorway. To say that Ebba looked shocked as she took in the state of the room and her lord and lady abed together, was an understatement. It was only then that Iliana noticed that there now appeared to be more water on the floor than in the tub. 'Twas a horrible mess. And Iliana didn't particularly care at that moment. She'd had far too much fun putting it there to care.
Pushing the hair out of her eyes, she smiled widely. "What is it, Ebba?"
"What? Oh! Your mother, my lady. She is approaching the keep."
"Mother?" Leaping from the bed, Iliana rushed for the chests containing her clothes. Sliding the last few feet in a puddle of water, she jarred her knee against the wooden chest and cursed, then threw it open and grabbed the first undertunic she came across. Pausing then, she whirled suddenly. "You are sure?"
"Aye, my lady. Johnny-Boy arrived at the keep but a few moments ago with the news of where she is. He's waiting to take you back to her."
"Johnny-Boy?" Iliana murmured the name as she tugged the undertunic on over her head. He was the son of her mother's maid. "Why did she not simply ride up to the keep herself?"
Ebba shrugged as Iliana pulled a gown out of the chest and tugged it on. "Lord Angus sent me to fetch ye soon as Johnny-Boy spit that part out. I didn't hear the rest."
"Tell his lordship I shall be down directly I am finished dressing."
Nodding, Ebb
Squealing, she grabbed for the bedpost, but he was faster. She ended lying flat on her back as he shifted atop her. Iliana opened her mouth to protest then, but Duncan was not interested in hearing it. His mouth came down atop hers and his hands began roaming so fast and in so many directions it made her dizzy.
"Husband!" she managed at last when he finally freed her mouth, only to bite down on her lower lip when he jerked her unlaced neckline aside and clamped his mouth enthusiastically on one of her nipples. She caught her breath and tried again, but gave it up and squeezed her eyes shut as he rucked up her skirts and snaked one hand down between her legs to set about stoking her fire.
"Oh, my lord," she breathed with a mixture of shock and pleasure as her body immediately burst back to heaving life beneath his ministrations. "Oh my...oh dear...Oh, Mother," she moaned, then popped her eyes open as she recalled what she was trying to tell him. "M-mother!" she gasped. "Nay! Please, husband. My mother is here. I needs must--"
"Worry not, wife," he muttered, raising himself away from her breasts to kneel between her legs. "We shall make it quick so you can get below and greet her."
"Quick?" Iliana asked, then gasped as he raised her hips and slid into her.
He paused then to frown at her a bit worriedly and ask, "Are ye tender?"
Flushing with embarrassment, she shook her head quickly.
"Not at all?"
"Nay, but--" The word ended on a grunt when he grabbed her legs by each ankle and tugged them up over his shoulders as he drove deeper into her.
"Good," he groaned, holding her tightly to him briefly before withdrawing slightly and pounding back into her again. "Damn me, yer so tight."
Iliana bit her lip uncertainly. "Is that bad?"
"Nay, nay. 'Tis good. Too damn good, and I have waited too damn long. Hook yer ankles, sweetling."
"Hook my--?"
"Aye, help me hold ye up," he muttered, his face a picture of pain. "Hook yer ankles behind me head."
Iliana did as instructed, then moaned herself and arched into him when he released one hand from holding her hips and moved it between them to caress her again.
"That's it, sweetling," he muttered, urging her to move against him with the one hand still at her hip. "That's it. That's...Damn!"
Iliana hardly heard his curse as he poured himself into her. She was too taken up with the waves of feeling that were crashing through her own body as she succumbed to his touch and the feel of him inside her. She was still shuddering with it when he slid her legs gently off his shoulders and collapsed atop her, crushing the gown that was bunched up at her waist.
"'Tis sorry I am, wee Iliana," he groaned as soon as he could catch his breath.
"Do not be," Iliana gasped back. "I liked it. We must try this quick one again."
A knock at the door had them both peering toward it. Duncan sighed, then growled, "Aye?"
The door opened to reveal Angus. Embarrassment flushed his face as he saw what he had walked in on. Then it was replaced by anger, apparently at having his suspicions confirmed. "Damn ye, Duncan! Ye'll work the poor lass unto death do ye not control yer urges once in a while. Is it not bad enough that the lass gets no rest of a night? Must ye be botherin' her all through the day as well?"
Duncan was amused. "Yer the one who said ye were wantin' grandbabies by nine months' end," he reminded him.
"Well, surely to God ye've planted one in her by now!" the old man snapped. "Ye've certainly been plowin' her enough. Now let the poor lass alone, else she'll not have the strength to survive the birthin'."
Thoroughly embarrassed by this point, Iliana shoved her husband away and leapt from the bed, straightening her gown as she did.
"I need only don my hose, my lord. I'll be along directly," she half-whispered, grabbing the stockings and dropping onto the foot of the bed again to begin tugging them up one leg.
Angus turned his gaze to her, his expression softening along with his voice. "Lass, don't rush yersel' so. A few minutes will not matter so much, and with this muckle brain as a husband ye appear to be needin' whatever strength the Good Lord gave ye." His gaze turned back to Duncan, who was lying exhausted on the bed where Iliana had left him, and he scowled darkly. "Get yer sorry arse out o' bed, man, and dress yersel' quick. Yer wee wife'll need ye."
Iliana stiffened and stared at him at that, but Duncan merely frowned. Unlike Iliana, he had not been taken completely by surprise at the arrival of her mother. Word spread faster in Scotland than a horse could travel, and he and his father had known for several days that Lady Wildwood and two servants were heading for Dunbar. But nothing had suggested she was not in the best of health. Until now.
"Need him?" Iliana asked anxiously. "Is Mother ill?"
Angus hesitated, then sighed. "The servant, Johnny-boy, said she's a muckle mess."
"A muckle mess? What is wrong with her?"
"From what the lad said, yer stepda took his temper to her," he admitted reluctantly.
Gasping, Iliana lunged off the bed and hurried to the door, then whirled back to her chests. After tossing half of one's contents on the floor, she came up with her bag of herbs. Leaving the mess as it was, she hurried out of the room, her hose still on only one leg and dragging on the ground behind her.
Staring after her departing figure, Duncan sighed. "Where does she get the energy?"
"Well, not from any carin' or concern from ye, I can tell ye that much," Angus turned to declare grimly. "Now get up!"
"Oh, 'tis good to see you, my lady!" Johnny-Boy's relief was obvious on his large, weathered face as he rushed to the bottom of the stairs to greet Iliana. Despite his name, Johnny, six foot tall and burly as a barrel, was anything but a boy. He was a good ten years older than Iliana, but had been called Johnny-Boy as a child and somehow, despite the passing years, the name had stuck. "All will be well now."
There was such uncertainty on his face as he spoke that Iliana's anxiety increased tenfold. "How bad is she, Johnny-Boy? He did not take the whip to her?"
"Nay, my lady. Though it may have been kinder had he done so."
When Iliana frowned over that, Johnny-Boy shook his head. "Ma says her ribs are broke, and mayhap her leg. She's not well. Weak. Feverish. Ma was afraid to continue on without a cart or something for her to lie in. Lady Wildwood simply could not ride anymore. She collapsed soon as she knew we were on Dunbar land."
Iliana's legs went weak at that announcement, and she was grateful for Duncan's steadying hand on her arm as he reached her side.
"Did ye order a cart?" Duncan asked Angus as he bent to finish putting his wife's hose on for her.
"Aye," Angus murmured, grabbing Iliana's arm to steady her as Duncan raised her bare foot and stuck it in the hose, then tugged the material upward
Nodding, Duncan straightened and ushered Iliana toward the door, glancing worriedly at her pale face as he did.
Angus had ordered more than a cart. There were twenty mounted men, a cart, and three horses waiting when they started down the stairs. Ebba was already seated in the back of the wagon, her own bag of herbs on her lap.
Hurrying Iliana down the steps, Duncan mounted his horse, then bent and tugged her up before him, barely waiting the moment it took for Angus and Johnny-Boy to mount before turning his beast and heading out of the bailey. Once through the gates, Duncan slowed, allowing Johnny-Boy to take the lead.
Johnny had not been exaggerating when he said Lady Wildwood had collapsed as soon as she had reached Dunbar land. The cleari
Duncan barely managed to draw his mount to a halt before Iliana slid out from beneath his arms and dropped to the ground. She rushed across the clearing to the side of a haggard old woman who was obviously her mother's maid before Duncan could finish dismounting.
Her gasp of dismay told him more than anything that her mother was in a frighteningly bad way. Sharing a grim glance with his father, Duncan moved to stand behind Iliana, his own face paling as he took in the state of the woman lying on the ground.
That she was weak and feverish was obvious--they had been warned of that--but it was the state of her face that had shocked Iliana and now had the same effect on Duncan. Greenweld had not satisfied himself with breaking her body; he had taken his fists to her face as well. The woman's lip was split, her nose swollen and most like broken, and she bore two black eyes that a raccoon would have been proud of. He cringed to think how she must have looked before setting out on the long journey from Wildwood.
"The bastard," Angus hissed, pausing beside Duncan.
"Oh, mama," Iliana moaned, reaching a hand toward the battered face, then drawing it back uncertainly for fear of hurting her.
Lady Wildwood stirred at the words from her daughter and struggled to open her eyes, but they were too swollen to see through. When she opened her mouth to speak, only a dry croak came out.
"Shh," Iliana murmured, taking the nearest hand. It appeared to be the only place on the woman that was not bruised, cut, or swollen. "'Tis Iliana, Mother. I am here. We are going to take you to Dunbar. You will be safe there," she assured her, then glanced toward the hag. Gertie had been with the Wildwoods since Iliana's grandmother's day and had always been maid to the mistress of the castle, and her wisdom and ability to heal were reknowned. If anyone could repair the damage done to Iliana's mother, it was this woman.
Spying the question in her face, the old woman patted her shoulder. "I have given her something for the fever and pain. She needs rest now."
Nodding, Iliana turned to glance over her shoulder at the wagon rolling into the clearing.