Chapter Eight
Lowri woke to a grey dawn and a musky, whisky smell.
She tore open her eyes and froze. Cullen’s arms were around her.
His chest was up against her face, revealing a smooth expanse of flesh where his shirt gaped.
Her hands were pressed to his hard belly, and he gave off heat like a forge.
Worst of all, what was between his legs was pressed to her thigh.
As far as she could tell, he had not touched her further in the night.
He had inflicted that indignity on her only once, and it had been mortifying – a good deal of fumbling and groaning, and then a sharp pain, just like the sting of a bee.
She’d suffered worse injuries, so why did she want to cry when he had realised she was a virgin and stopped with his manhood still inside her?
When she had urged him on, Cullen had cursed and pushed further inside her body, making her flinch, and when he had finished, he mumbled something about being a bastard and keeping his word.
Why did she have to bait him last night? Had her guilt over Donnan and Rory made her do it? Was it the whisky, for she was not accustomed to it, not that Cullen needed to know that. Maybe she hated herself so much for letting Peyton down that she had done it to punish herself.
Whatever the reason for her foolishness, and that bit of awful groping and thrusting between her and Cullen, Lowri had lost her virginity in a rush of anger and self-loathing.
Her face burned at the memory. Afterwards, she had no idea what to do, so she had just lain there, sticky between the legs, her face burning, Cullen unmoving beside her.
But she did not think he had been asleep.
Now he was practically on top of her. She had to get away. Lowri bit her lip, took hold of his shirt between her thumb and forefinger, and used it to gently lift his arm off her. She slid her other hand off his chest and down onto the mattress to slowly push herself away.
Cullen’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. ‘If you are trying to seduce me, lass, then I must tell you, I am not in the mood just now.’
Lowri tore herself free and leapt out of bed. The thud of her heart against her ribs made her feel sick. ‘Why were you lying on me? What did you do?’
‘I fell asleep.’ He sat up and regarded her bleary-eyed. ‘What did you do? He patted himself down. ‘Did you molest me in the night?’
‘Absolutely not!’
‘That’s good. God, my head throbs as if all the hammers in Hell beat down on it.’
‘Serves you right.’
‘Aye, it does. Now, you may as well come back to bed, lass. ‘Tis a cold morning, and I’ve no haste to rise just yet.’ He smiled. ‘Well, not in that way anyway, so you are quite safe.’
‘No. You must take me to your father and tell him we have consummated the marriage.’
He sank back down and rolled onto his belly, arm hanging off the side of the bed, and muttered, ‘All in good time.’
Lowri’s temper sparked, and she marched over to Cullen and tore the blankets off him. To her horror, he was naked from the waist down, and Lowri got a flash of firm, pale buttocks before she looked away.
‘I’ve suffered to have you as a husband, and now I’ll not let Donnan and Rory suffer any more than they have to. You must free them.’
Cullen leapt from the bed and took hold of Lowri in a tight grip. ‘Don’t push me, lass. I’m not some tame pup to come to heel whenever you snap your fingers.’ He glowered at her, his face inches away. Then he planted a quick peck on her mouth and pushed her back.
She wiped his kiss away, and Cullen just laughed, his anger melting as quickly as it came. ‘Did you not like that kiss?’ he said.
‘It wasn’t a kiss. It was a punishment.’
‘Only if you want it to be,’ he replied, donning his braies, and Lowri tried hard not to stare at the curve of his buttocks through the thin fabric of his shirt. She whirled just in time when he turned around to do them up at the front. The more clothes he put on, the better.
‘Alright. I am decent enough. Let us go to my father and tell him the good news. You look utterly miserable, so that should convince him, I’ve had you.’
Joy coursed through Lowri’s veins at the thought of getting Donnan and Rory released and all three of them running through the glens towards home.
***
They found Griffin in the hall, slurping down a thin grey porridge, seated at the table with several young lasses of all shapes and ages. They must be his daughters, but no one bothered to introduce Lowri.
‘Ah, the lovebirds are here. Leave us, little chickens.’ When they stared open-mouthed at her instead of doing Griffin’s bidding, he slammed his fist down on the table. ‘I said move!’
They all shrieked and scurried out, giving Lowri curious looks as they passed.
Griffin sat back in his chair and addressed his son as if she were invisible. ‘Judging by the look of her, you did your duty by Clan Macaulay and tupped the defiance out of the lass.’ He chortled. ‘She sports a face like turned milk.’
‘Aye.’ Cullen picked an apple from the bowl and took a bite. ‘When have I ever resisted my worst urges, Father?’
‘Put up a fight, did she?’
‘Not much, but then you did hang the murder of her friends over her head.’
‘Aye.’ Griffin scraped back his chair and came to Lowri for a closer look. He took a long suck of air in through his nose, like a dog, as if he could smell sin all over her. ‘Was she pure, untouched?’
‘As good as she can be. I have no cause for complaint. And it matters not either way, for you have your revenge on Peyton Strachan.’
Griffin finally deigned to address Lowri. ‘He’s a sturdy one, my Cullen. No doubt he acquitted himself well and planted a Macaulay seed.’
‘And you are a foul old man,’ she spat, turning and going to look out of the window, scouring the green hills folding into one another. But there was no rescue coming. She had to rely on her wits.
Griffin laughed. ‘Don’t be fooled by this one, son. She’s a Strachan, and they are wily. We need to keep her close to Scarcross for a while so that she doesn’t slip the noose.’
‘You mean to rub her brother’s nose in it.’
Cullen’s jaw worked, ice creeping into his tone. Lowri had been around fighting men long enough to recognise the signs of a burgeoning temper.
‘Aye, Strachan will find out eventually and come storming over here asking for her back. But you won’t go, will you, lass? If you do, I’ll squeeze those lads’ necks.’
‘But they are to be freed today. I did as you asked,’ said Lowri.
Griffin just smirked at her.
‘How long do you intend to keep them prisoner?’ said Cullen.
‘As long as it takes for your wife’s Strachan womb to quicken with a Macaulay heir. So you’d best get on with it, hadn’t you?’
‘What?’ cried Lowri.
‘That was not the arrangement,’ snarled Cullen.
‘Well, it is now. Like it or not, you have a wife and a chance to continue the Macaulay line. It will set you straight, son.’
Lowri felt sick. ‘No. I will not do it. You promised.’
‘I don’t recall making any promises to a thieving Strachan bitch.’
Cullen snarled, ‘She’s a Macaulay now. She kept her word, and we consummated the marriage. Free the lads.’
Griffin snarled at his son. ‘How do I know you are telling the truth? The only way is when you show me your wife’s swollen belly, else you could be lying.’
‘I am not. I did it. You made a monster of me, and now you must keep your word, you conniving old…’
‘Careful, son.’
Cullen and his father went chest to chest, both oozing fury, and Lowri braced herself for a fight.
‘We are leaving,’ said Cullen to his father.
‘No. You cannot,’ cried Griffin.
‘I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m not leaving until my friends are released,’ cried Lowri. ‘How dare you lie to me. You are in on this.’
Cullen ignored her protests.
‘Where are you going?’ said Griffin.
‘Out of the West March. I have affairs that cannot wait.’
‘What affairs – some slut you’ve bedded down with?’
‘No, affairs which send coin to your coffers and keep Clan Macaulay afloat.’
Cullen’s voice was a snarl as he turned to Lowri and said, ‘Run to our chamber and fetch your plaid, lass. You will need it, for it is a cold road we’ll be travelling.’
Cold indeed, for his voice held a fury that she hadn’t heard before.
Lowri’s legs would not move. She was frozen by the force of their betrayal.
They had lied to her. If she left with Cullen, who was to stop him from murdering her on the road to God knows where?
He had no need of a wife, so once she was gone, he was free, and Griffin could kill her friends.
Cullen shouted into his father’s face. ‘I am going, and you can stay here and face the Strachans when they find out what you’ve done. I’m finished with this filthy business.’
‘Filthy is it. I have given you a gift – a clean, sweet lass instead of whores and sluts. And if you are done with this business, why take the lass?’
‘Because she is my wife, thanks to you, and I’ll not leave her to your less than tender mercies, or Allard’s.’ His angry shout rang through the hall, and Lowri flinched when he turned to her and bellowed, ‘I said go and fetch your plaid. I will not say it again.’
Lowri fled with his fury ringing in her ears.
As she rushed up the stairs, a thought occurred.
She could slip away from Cullen right now, or on the road.
If she reached Peyton and brought men from Fellscarp, they could catch Griffin and hold his feet over hot coals until he told them where Donnan and Rory were.
It was a chance at freedom if she acted fast. She rushed to the chamber and grabbed her plaid, wrapping it around her for warmth.
She raced out and crashed straight into Allard.
His bulk blocked the doorway. He strolled in.
‘What are you doing in here? Where’s Cullen?’
‘He’s arguing with my father. He’ll be a while. Their fights can go on for hours.’ Allard took a step closer. His face was swollen, his left eyelid mushrooming out in an angry red.
‘We are leaving. I must go.’
‘Aye, I heard. Cullen never did like sharing, but I like taking what’s his, and once his back is turned, I’m going to take you.’
‘I’m not his or yours, or anybody’s to take.’
‘Aye, you are. You belong to us Macaulays now, and it matters nought who puts a bairn in your belly.’ Allard came close, and Lowri shrank back.
His thick belly pressed against hers. He was an animal, and he smelled like one – stale sweat, ale on his breath.
He did not smell like Cullen. If Allard touched her, she would scratch and bite and kick until her last breath. His black-bearded face moved closer.
‘Leave the lass be, Allard, or else I will beat you to a pulp.’
Cullen leaned on the doorjamb, his face bearing an expression of utter hatred. Allard leapt away from Lowri as if she were on fire. He glared at Cullen and then rushed out, pushing past him.
‘My father should have curbed Allard long ago. Come, lass.’ Cullen beckoned with a flick of his hand, and Lowri longed to slap the arrogance out of him. But instead, she followed. What else could she do?
Lowri struggled to keep up with Cullen’s long strides across the yard.
The day was grey with the threat of rain, and folk stared from their dwellings but said nothing.
The stables were deserted. A pool of Donnan’s blood had dried brown on the ground where he had been beaten.
Cullen saddled two horses without a word to her, but she could not be silent.
Lowri gasped, ‘What about my friends?’
Cullen rounded on her. ‘There is nothing I can do for your friends. I do not know where my father holds them. But he’ll not kill them until he gets what he wants.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Believe what you like. But if you try to run back to your brother telling your tale, and he goes after my father, those lads will die, and it will be on your conscience.’
‘Then what am I to do?’
‘Just now, you are to do as you are told. If you had done that before and obeyed your brother’s commands, you wouldn’t be stuck with me now, would you?’
Lowri winced at how Cullen used her own words against her, but she fought back. ‘I chose you over Allard because I thought you might have a scrap of honour.’
‘I wish with all my heart, I had not been chosen, and as to honour, do not go looking for that in me. You will only be disappointed. Now get on that horse. We are leaving.’
‘You are a coward, running away from my brother’s wrath,’ said Lowri.
Cullen went very still. ‘You are my wife, so you should be worrying about my wrath, not your brother’s.’