Chapter Nineteen #2
There was no escape. She could not see Cullen anywhere. ‘What do you want?’ she spat.
‘You are a vision in that dress.’ Butcher pulled her close and put his mouth to her ear. ‘How often does Cullen impose himself? Every night, I’d wager, you looking the way you do. Does he have to hold you down, a wild one like you, force you?’
‘Cullen does not force me.’
‘You like it then?’ he hissed. ‘I am glad you get some pleasure from sleeping with the enemy.’
Lowri pushed him back, but it was like pushing a stone wall. ‘He’s not my enemy. He is my husband.’
‘He’s as much of a brute as I am, make no mistake.’
‘Cullen is kind, in his way.’
‘Aye, kind as long as he gets what he wants. You look like a sharp lass, too clever to trust in one like him. Now me, I am of a different ilk. I do not deceive. I am open about my desires.’ He stared down at her, his beautiful black eyes burning into her soul.
‘My blood boils for you, lass. You steal my dreams, bonnie little witch.’
Another dark, handsome face flashed before her.
Just for a moment, Lowri let the devil in – her cousin, Black Eaden.
He was so-called because he had Lucifer’s soul, and his deeds matched his character.
He had been the same kind of man as Butcher – impressive to look at, but hollow inside.
He had pursued her with flattery and lavish attention to gain her trust and make her become infatuated with him.
And so she had let herself get used by a man, a bitter regret, even now.
Lowri twisted free of Butcher’s grasp and was about to rush away when he said, ‘I know all about your arrangement with Cullen. But I can put a bairn in your belly quicker than he, and I can send men to find those lads at Scarcross and free them.’
All the breath seemed to leave Lowri’s body. They stood, eyes locked, as dancers jostled them. ‘How do you know all this?
‘You intrigue me, and I thought, how could Cullen Macaulay end up with such a fine lass as you, and out of nowhere? There must be more to this tale, for it cannot be true love. I often go back and forth between Scotland and Ireland, and I’ve had dealings with Griffin Macaulay.
And I am the sort of man who can demand information and get it. ’
A shiver ran down Lowri’s spine.
Butcher took her hand and caressed the back of it with his thumb.
Lowri looked up at him. The man was heart-wrenchingly handsome.
His smile was perfect, white and dazzling behind sensual lips.
His hair shone in the candlelight like a sleek seal pelt.
And he was as broad and strong as a bull.
No woman in her right mind would turn him down, and he could have his pick of any.
Would they swoon because he had chosen to bestow his charms on them?
His fingers roamed to her wrist, pressing where her blood pulsed through her body.
Lowri felt sick, as if a slug was leaving a trail of slime up her arm.
She wanted to tear her hand away, but she could not.
She didn’t want to remember, but it all came back to her, and suddenly she was back in the woods behind Fellscarp, scarcely sixteen years old, with Black Eaden leading her by the hand.
Her heart thudded with love for him as he lay her down and she let him put his hands and his mouth where he should not.
While he had not taken her virtue – his game was to make her beg him to take it, so as to revel in his triumph – he had left a scar on her heart, and a soul withered in shame.
Butcher was just the same – selfish, ruthless, a degenerate out for his own pleasure.
He had the same cold ruthlessness - handsome, charming on the surface, but he was cleverer by far than Eaden, more coldly calculating.
He thought she was gullible, but she had been stung by men’s lies before. She would not succumb again.
‘Think what a sweet feeling it would be to share my bed,’ he coaxed. ‘You can get a bairn with me. You can thwart Griffin’s plans, take revenge on his son for forcing your marriage, make a cuckold of your husband, and gain your freedom.’
His voice was so persuasive, so gentle.
‘I agreed to the arrangement with Cullen, and there is no forcing.’
‘Don’t lie. That’s not how I hear it.’ Butcher grabbed her arm. ‘I can make your body sing, lass. I can free your friends with one snap of my fingers.’
‘Take your hands off me. I want nothing to do with you.’
Butcher’s expression changed from seductive to suppressed fury. ‘If you can whore yourself for Cullen to get your way, then you can whore yourself for me. Think about it, Lowri. Time is running out for those lads, and I always get what I want.’
‘Did Griffin put you up to this?’
‘Do you think that snivelling weasel could make me do anything?’ His lips were an inch from hers. His grip was like iron, and there was no gentleness in his tone now, just hunger.
***
Cullen watched Lowri’s mouth come within inches of Butcher’s.
Rage flooded his veins like poison. He had been delighting in her dancing, watching her black hair fly around her face and her red skirts swirl as she lost herself in the music.
She had been wild, free, and his heart did a double-beat at the sight of her.
Then it had twisted with anger as Butcher pushed her ageing partner aside and took hold of her.
Cullen’s first thought had been to rush in and punch Butcher’s grin off his face, but he held himself back.
He wanted to see if Lowri favoured his rival, and by the way she was letting him whisper in her ear, with her face pink and eyes wide, it seemed she did.
Lowri tolerated Butcher’s hands on her, sliding over the red silk dress, his face leaning in for a kiss.
They hung together, belly to belly, eyes locked, lost in each other.
Lowri let him caress her wrist as if he was going inside her.
Cullen’s dam of rage broke, and he launched himself at Butcher. ‘Get your hands off her,’ he snarled. He tore Butcher’s hands from Lowri’s arm and threw him sideways with such force that the man staggered into the other dancers.
‘You dare to touch me,’ screamed Butcher, and the whine of the fiddler faded away.
‘Aye, and I’ll do worse if you don’t take yourself off.’
Butcher’s snarl turned to a grin. ‘Your whore likes me touching her,’ he shouted, so that everyone could hear.
Cullen drew back his fist and smashed it into Butcher's face. There were gasps all around.
‘My nose. You broke my nose, you cur,’ snarled Butcher, bending double, blood seeping down his fingers and onto the floor.
Then he leapt at Cullen, and they tore at each other, fists flying, knees to bellies, hands to throats, like two wolves trying to tear each other apart.
Butcher’s fist slammed into Cullen’s belly with a sickening thud, but it did not slow him down.
He hardly felt it. His next punch sent Butcher reeling backwards and, in a flash, the man pulled out a knife.
Captain Rabham appeared between them, risking life and limb. ‘Hold, lads. ‘Tis enough already. The lady’s honour was besmirched, and it has been avenged. No harm done. Isn’t that right, lassie?’ he said, turning to Lowri.
‘Aye,’ she nodded.
‘Shake hands and let it go, now,’ said the Captain.
Butcher spat at Cullen’s feet. ‘It’s lucky for you, I have somewhere I have to be. Next time, I’ll gut you, Macaulay.’
‘Come on, Cullen,’ said Lowri. Her voice shook, but she pulled him away with surprising strength for a woman. ‘Leave it. He is not worth the trouble. Come on.’
‘This isn’t over,’ he snarled back at Butcher.
‘I welcome our next encounter, Macaulay, and I’ll enjoy getting your drab under me in good time.’
Outside, the cool night air was like a balm to his battered face. Cullen leaned over with his hands on his knees. He’d taken a couple of good punches, and his head spun a little. Lowri lifted her dress and wiped blood from his nose.
‘Stop. You will ruin it.’
‘It is already red. It won’t show, and you are a fool, Cullen Macaulay.’
‘I didn’t like him pawing you.’
‘Well, I did not want him to dance with me, and you left me alone and unprotected.’
Cullen winced when he smiled. ‘You never struck me as the sort of lass that wanted nor welcomed my protection.’
‘Well, I do. Something about that man scares me.’
Cullen spat blood from his mouth. After a while, Lowri said, ‘Are you well now?’
‘Aye, better.’
‘So you can answer me this. How does Butcher know about our arrangement, Cullen, about me needing a bairn in my belly to free my friends?’
Cullen straightened up. He had expected this, but still, it irritated him. ‘My father must have told him.’
‘Why would he?’
‘Because Butcher’s father and mine were friends years ago. That is why I was sent to Ireland as a lad when my father could not stand the sight of me. I came to Larne to learn the smuggling trade. I know that Butcher still talks to my father now and then.’
‘You kept this from me.’ Lowri shook her head. ‘So now everyone knows my shame, my degradation, that I am nothing more than a brood mare for the Macaulays. No wonder he tried to talk me into his bed. Why would he not, when I am clearly for sale, a slave to take to bed whenever you please?’
Cullen grabbed Lowri and shook her. ‘You are not a slave to me or anyone, nor will you ever be.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Believe this then. If you want Butcher, as most lasses do, then go to him. I’ll not stop you.’ The words were acid in this throat. The thought of her lying with Butcher, her pale skin pressed to his, her dark hair falling over his smug, handsome face, had Cullen writhing in jealousy.
‘He said he can free my friends any time he likes,’ she spat.
‘Butcher might be able to force their release, because my father is frightened of him. He’s a mad bastard, that one. It’s your choice, but he will extract a high price for his help. Trust me on that, lass.’
Silence fell between them, and Cullen held his breath.