Chapter Sixteen
Lowri looked at the cottage with dismay all over her face, as if searching for something more, and Cullen’s pride withered.
His home, Kildara, was modest compared to her home at Fellscarp.
It was no high tower house with fortified walls.
It comprised a long, low cottage with aged thatch for a roof, a small outbuilding that served as a stable for the horses and other livestock, and another tiny cottage nearby that housed his tenants.
It served Cullen’s needs, for he was seldom there and did not require much comfort. Lowri, being a lass, would expect more.
He had to put his shoulder to the door to get it open, for it always stuck in wet weather.
Lowri followed him in. The dreary day fed a dim light inside, which he was grateful for, because it hid the shortcomings of the place - just one room, which housed the kitchen, with a few chairs set before the fireplace, and a platform raised at one end with steps leading up to what served as a bedroom.
Lowri glanced at the bed, met his eye and looked away.
‘Worried I’ll throw you onto my bed and ravish you?’ he spat.
She turned and looked out of the window. Cullen paced, trying to think of something else to say. This lass was his now, so he had to at least speak to her. But his second attempt at conversation just spewed out more bitterness. ‘I suppose this is far poorer than you are used to.’
‘I’ve slept in the open in all weathers, so I think I can endure this.’
‘But not me?’ he thought. His bruised pride sat like a stone in his chest. Cullen could not get past it and was not sure he even wanted to. Why take this lass to bed, why be gentle and coax her into arousal, to join his body to hers in passion, just to have it thrown back in his face?
‘So you live here alone? No woman, you haven’t told me about,’ she said.
‘Does it look like I have a woman here?’ he replied, sweeping his hand around the cottage, which was painfully bare of anything but the essentials.
Lowri shuddered. ‘It’s so lonely and remote here.’
‘That’s how I like it. And there is a neighbour close by. Cross over the burn out there, follow the path, and you will find a cottage. I have friends there, Gormal and Connie.’
How he wished he could go there now, sit before their hearth and eat supper with friendly faces.
But he could not abandon his new bride, prickly though she may be.
And a hopeless part of him wanted to take her to bed and bring forth that warm, passionate lass he’d taken with gentle longing but one night ago.
She’d felt beautiful underneath him, belly to belly.
‘My neighbours are poor and scrape a living off a small piece of land nearby with one cow, some chickens, goats and a few pigs to keep them going. Since I took this place on, they have become friends.’
‘Took it on?’
‘Aye. I won it at cards.’
‘Are you sure you didn’t steal it?’ said Lowri, with a sneer curling her lip.
Cullen reined in his temper. ‘I will ask Connie to visit, if you like.’
‘No need. I can shift for myself.’
‘Good, then light the fire, and I will get water from the well for you to wash.’
‘I’ll not spruce myself up for your pleasure.’
‘I’m not asking you to, and I doubt you could give me pleasure spruced up or otherwise.’
Lowri winced, and Cullen regretted his cruelty. He lifted a cloth laid upon the table. ‘Connie must have seen the Alainn come into shore. Bless her heart. Look, she has brought over bread and cheese and honey, and a jug of ale, so we don’t go hungry.’
‘She sounds like a treasure, this Connie.’
Was there a hint of jealousy to that? ‘Oh, she is. I think the world of her,’ he replied. ‘Now, light the fire, and we can eat.’
Lowri turned her back on him and seemed frozen by her misery, so Cullen set about lighting the fire himself.
Eventually, she turned around and watched him.
Every now and then, when he looked up at her, she clutched her arms tight like a shield and frowned.
It was clear that she couldn’t bear to be near him.
She swayed on her feet a little, tired to her bones.
‘Come and get some food in your belly and warm yourself,’ he said, scraping two chairs over to the little table and beckoning her.
She stared at him, wide-eyed, as he retrieved a bottle of brandy from where he had hidden it under the bed.
‘Gormal, my neighbour, keeps an eye on this place when I am on my travels, and he is partial to a nip, so I keep it out of sight,’ he explained.
‘You can either stand there sulking or join me in a drink, lass, your choice.’
Lowri sat down opposite him at the table and took a swig from the bottle.
She tore off a hunk of bread, and they ate in silence, which allowed Cullen to take a good look at her.
Her hair was a matted tangle, her pitiful borrowed dress was too thin for the season and clung to her skin with damp.
It was already almost a rag and streaked with mud.
Whenever they clashed with his, her lovely brown eyes were dull with exhaustion, and her cheeks as pale as milk.
He reached over and put a hand on her arm.
‘Listen to me, Lowri. We can hurl insults at each other all night, or keep this silence, but it won’t get us any closer to going our separate ways.
You do want to be free of me, return home and get your friends released, don’t you? ’
‘Aye.’
‘So we must at least get on and cease sniping at each other.’
‘I suppose so.’ She bit her lip. ‘Do you think Griffin will keep his word?’
‘If he does not, I will make him.’
‘And how will you do that?’
‘By any means necessary.’
Lowri grimaced at her food. ‘So we really have to do this monstrous thing, get a bairn between us, before Donnan and Rory go free.’
‘Seems like it.’
Her brow knitted. She did that a lot, and for some reason, he found it gave her face a child-like sweetness. ‘I want to know, Cullen, why your father does not name Allard heir and be done with it? He is the eldest.’
‘Clan Macaulay chooses its laird, not my father, and if he named Allard, then when he passed, I would challenge my half-brother for the lairdship, to the death, if needs be.’
‘But do you even want it? You seem to like this life you have here.’
‘This is a way to make money and to get free of my father’s influence.
I am my own man here. My choices are my own, as are yours.
’ He stared into her eyes, and she did not look away.
Even dishevelled, Lowri had a rough beauty that stirred his loins.
She was clever and resourceful, with mettle to spare.
The feel of his fingers sliding over her soft skin slipped into his head.
Had they met under different circumstances, he could have wooed her and made her like him.
But he had taken Lowri’s honour by the threat of violence to her friends. Nothing could make up for that.
‘What happens if your father gets a son with his wife? He could name that bairn as heir,’ she said.
‘He’ll not get a son, lass.’
She shrugged. ‘Why not?’
‘Because he cannot sire one. I have many half-sisters, almost too many to count, some from his first wife, married off, and some from his current wife. Mabel has given him four daughters, but no sons, no matter how many times he climbs on top of her.’
‘But there is you and Allard.’
‘Lass, do we look like brothers to you? Am I so similar to Allard?’
She shook her head, which was a relief.
‘Do you think either of us resembles the great Griffin Macaulay?'
Lowri bit her lip, thinking on his question. ‘Allard has a broad, bland face, and Griffin’s is long-chinned and sly, like a weasel. Allard is dark, and Griffin is blond. Your hair is a sort of dull brown, so you could be anyone’s son.’
‘I thank you for that,’ he said, wincing inside as her barb skewered his vanity.
She leaned forward. Clearly, the brandy was working, and she was dropping her guard. ‘So you are not his sons, is that what you are saying?’
‘Aye. My father was always desperate for a male heir, or so I am told. He harried his wives relentlessly to provide one. His mistresses too.’ Cullen’s heart lurched at the memory of his mother, strapped to a bed once her madness took hold.
‘Maybe those women he lay with grew weary of endless childbirth just to bring forth lasses who disappointed him. Maybe they lay with another man who could get the job done.’
Lowri took a big swig of brandy. ‘So are you saying, you do not know who your father is?’
‘Aye. My mother took that juicy little snippet to her grave. So, Lowri Macaulay, you are not only married to a bastard, but a bastard with no name, who does not know where he came from.’
‘You prefer to think that? You want to believe that someone other than Griffin sired you?’
‘Sometimes.’ He raised the brandy to his mouth, breathing in its oaky fumes. ‘But ‘tis no matter. As I said, I will fight for the lairdship should the need ever arise.’
‘And if you win it with some measure of power, then will you come seeking an heir. Will you try to steal my bairn from me?’
‘I would not do that. And besides, it is moot, as you will not have me.’
Lowri stared into his eyes. ‘I want to get out of this, so I will.’
He shook his head and laughed.
Lowri grabbed his wrist. ‘I am in earnest. I propose this. I will lie with you any time and any way you want, Cullen, so long as you put a bairn in my belly. I will offer no protest, nor struggle, nor scream. There is no one to hear me anyway.’
‘A tempting and seductive offer, if ever I heard one. Who could resist the words, ‘I will offer no protest.’ What a way to urge a man on.’
‘I shouldn’t have to urge you on. Men can do it without wanting the other person.’
‘Who told you that?’
‘Never mind. What if I try to be…well…softer for you.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘I will accept my situation and be nicer. I will not argue. I will be anything you want, and I will be bound to you, a submissive little wife. I will wear dresses, dance, sew, and cook. I will let you do whatever you want with me in bed as long as you do not kiss me, and you swear not to hurt me.’
‘I would never hurt you,’ he said, but his voice came out as a snarl, and she flinched. ‘Did I hurt you on our wedding night?’ he said.
‘No…a bit…I don’t know. Do you agree then?’
‘No.’
‘But I am giving you what you want.’
‘That is the opposite of what I want.’
‘I don’t understand. Please Cullen. I am tormented. It would be a kindness. I cannot stay here forever. I am begging you.’
‘It is late. Stop talking and leave me be, if you know what’s good for you.’
As the day went on and the fire roared, Cullen fetched water from the well, boiling it in a pot over the fire. He put a bowl and jug on the table.
‘You need to take off those wet clothes to warm yourself. Dry them by the fire, and you can have one of my shirts to sleep in. I will stay outside so you can wash in privacy.’
***
Cullen did not come back, and once night fell, Lowri got into bed.
The fire was a comforting glow in the darkness.
Cullen had been good to his word and not barged in when she was naked, washing the sand and salt spray off her skin.
His shirt was too big, but it was a relief to peel off the damp dress and wear something clean.
Exhaustion dragged Lowri into oblivion, but she woke later with a start and a little shriek as the mattress shifted beside her.
Cullen had come to bed. Would he do as she asked, do his duty so that her friends could go free?
A strong hand took Lowri by the shoulder and turned her over.
Cullen’s palm slid across her cheek, and his fingers sank into her hair.
His eyes were hungry in the gloom as he eased on top of her.
Then he kissed her, hard and passionately, almost as if he meant it.
Ripples of lust ran up her stomach, so Lowri pushed at his shoulders.
‘I said no kissing.’
‘Aye, but I didn’t.’
Cullen kissed her again, and as he pulled up the shirt, he flicked his tongue to meet hers.
She could bite it, that would teach him, but, in one smooth movement, he was inside her body, grinding his hips against her.
Lowri tried not to show him that she felt it.
She lay like a corpse, but it was an effort that made her clench her teeth and thank God for the darkness.
His hair brushed her cheek. He smelled fresh. He must have washed too. ‘So you’ll do as I ask and get me with child so that you can be free of me,’ she whispered into the gloom.
Cullen stopped moving. ‘Aye, but that’s not why I’m doing it.’
‘So why?’
‘Because I want you, Lowri,’ he hissed.
After that, there was no more talking as Cullen took her in absolute silence, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the creaking of the metal bedhead, which rose to a mortifying crescendo as he quickened inside her.
His tongue was inside her mouth, his manhood inside her body, all of Cullen Macaulay inside her, all at once.
‘Gah,’ he said into her hair, his panted breath hot on her neck.
Cullen became a dead weight on her, but she had asked for this, so she dare not complain.
When he tried to kiss her afterwards, and she turned her head away, he cursed and rolled onto his side.
Lowri turned the opposite way and tried to sleep, but she could not.
There was an ache between her legs that was not from what Cullen had just done.
It was as if a shadow of his manhood was still there, inside her, making her pulse with longing and frustration.
‘Do you know how to use a pistol?’ he said suddenly.
‘Aye.’
‘Good. I will leave one on the table. Take it with you, if you ever venture beyond the cottage.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I said so. I’ll go to Connie and tell her to look out for you, for I’ll be coming and going a lot, and you will have to fend for yourself.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘To my den of thieves and other places, lass.’ His voice was all bitterness as he said, ‘Do not fash. I will still attend to my duties here.’