Chapter Thirty
The ship ploughed the waves at breakneck speed, heading towards the grey shoreline of Scotland.
A few weeks ago, Lowri would have been overjoyed at the sight, impatient to rush home to Fellscarp and throw herself into Peyton’s arms. But now, she hoped that they would never arrive, that Cullen would relent and turn back for Ireland and safety.
He stood at the prow, eyes fixed on shore, back stiff with anger.
His face held the steely resolve of one who would not be turned from his purpose.
Days had passed, as they waited for passage to Scotland, but Cullen’s rage had not abated.
No matter how much Lowri had pleaded with him to stop and think, he had made up his mind to return to Scarcross and end his brother, Allard, once and for all.
Lowri approached and laid a hand on his back, and he turned and smiled at her, but that smile quickly faded when she said, ‘There is still a chance to turn back, Cullen. You don’t know what awaits you at Scarcross. You could be rushing into a trap.’
He grimaced. ‘Aye, but better that than sit and wait for Allard to finish me off. Something must have happened for him to chance his hand like this. He never had much of a backbone.’ Cullen shook his head.
‘Whatever has made him put a knife to our throats, I will kill him for it. I will drag my brother out by his scruff and slaughter him like a dog before all of Clan Macaulay.’
‘Cullen, please.’
He rounded on her, his face wild. ‘He wants to kill me, Lowri, and God knows what his plans are for you. That bastard has to die. There is no reconciling after this. I will beat him to a pulp, with my bare hands, if I have to.’
There had been many rants since then as to how painfully Cullen intended to dispatch his loathsome brother.
Shoot him, gut him, string him up. It was his way of venting uncontrollable anger.
Lowri understood that, but Cullen’s outrage would not calm.
There was one way to stop him. If she told him about the bairn she carried in her belly, he might turn back.
She had not been sure at first, but now she was.
The bairn was inside her. It was a part of her, and she already loved it.
Then Cullen said, ‘I have to do it, or we will never be safe. He will send another assassin, then another. And we only just survived the last attack. Death stalks us, Lowri, and it must be faced down.
‘Oh, Cullen, are we cursed, do you think?’
‘Why would we be cursed, lass?’
‘For our past sins. I have many.’
Cullen brushed his thumb down her cheek. ‘And what might they be?’
‘Defying my brother, running from the nuns at the convent when they only tried to keep me godly. I reived all over the West March, and led my friends into danger.’
‘Donnan and Rory weren’t your friends.’
‘Rory was true to me. He was young and knew nothing of the plot with your father. And there is more that I’m ashamed of.’
‘What?’
‘Black Eaden.’
Cullen narrowed his eyes, and his grip stiffened on her arms. ‘What of him?’ he said quietly.
Lowri took a deep breath. There was no point in hiding it.
She would eventually have to drag her shame out into the open.
‘I let him take liberties, Cullen. I was but sixteen, and knew nothing of men’s desires, but I knew what I was doing when I encouraged him.
He touched me where he should not. He took me into the woods one day and kissed me, and I… ’
‘It doesn’t matter now.’
‘But it does. I was unchaste, wanton and a complete fool. I thought I loved him, and so I gave a part of myself away. But it was not love. Nothing like it. It was sordid and humiliating. It was not like it is with you.’
‘What are you saying, Lowri?’
‘I know what love is now, Cullen. That is why I don’t want you to throw your life away in anger. I can’t bear to lose you.’
His face hardened. ‘Allard must die. I’ll not be persuaded otherwise.’ His words were so final, so bleak, that Lowri took a deep breath and blurted out the truth.
‘You cannot risk your life. We need you, Cullen.’
‘We?’
She took his hand and laid it on her stomach. ‘I have your bairn in my belly. By year’s end, you will be a father.’
She searched his face for joy, but Cullen just stared down at her belly for the longest time, a frown creasing his brow. ‘Forgive me,’ he said.
‘For what?’
‘For letting my father win.’
Lowri backed away from him. ‘Is that all you can say?’
Cullen took her in a fierce embrace and kissed her hard. ‘I am honoured and thrilled that you carry my bairn. You know, I love you, lass, more than life. But I wanted you to be willing, not forced into it.’
‘I wasn’t.’
‘There is no one for me in this life but you. Can’t you see? I didn’t want my father to win, to make us his slaves, just things to be used to suit his own ends. I am happy about the bairn, truly, but it cannot live life under the shadow of my family’s infamy, cruelty and greed.’
‘Then let us return to Kildara and live our lives free and happy. You need never go back to Scarcross or see any of them again.’
‘There is no turning back. Now that I have an heir on the way, there is more reason than ever to kill Allard. If he kills me, he will not stop there. He will come after my family, so that he is unchallenged for the lairdship of Clan Macaulay.’
Lowri took a step back from him. ‘I thought you would be happy about the bairn, but you seem angry, as if it is an encumbrance.’
‘I am happy about the bairn, but I will set thoughts of it aside until I have my vengeance and both of you are safe.’
Lowri fought back tears. By telling Cullen, she’d only succeeded in throwing more wood on a raging fire.
How much time did she have left with him?
The Macaulays were vicious, conniving villains, and they would bring him down like a pack of wolves, tear his flesh, and rend his bones.
How could she live with herself if she let him deal with them alone?
‘Whatever you have to do, I am with you,’ said Lowri.
‘No. You will not be coming with me to Scarcross,’ said Cullen. ‘I am taking you to your brother for safekeeping, even if Peyton does slaughter me on sight.’
There was every chance he would.
***
From his vantage point atop a hill, Cullen stared down at the stern-walled tower house that was Fellscarp, home of the Strachans, a clan that his father had always described as vermin.
Knee-deep water lapped at the causeway leading to its gates, and behind the house, the wind raised white flurries over the grey-green estuary surrounding it, stretching back to the sea.
There was no cover near its walls, and only one path back in retreat.
If he were to bang on those gates, he would have to rely on Lowri for safe passage in and out.
Fellscarp was a grim, damp place, but Cullen had to own that it looked more welcoming than Scarcross ever had.
What a terrible fate Lowri had suffered, being forced to marry him and take on his poisonous heritage.
‘The tide has almost receded. We can ride over soon,’ Lowri said brightly, but he could tell her joy was mingled with trepidation.
‘Will Peyton accept your mongrel of a husband?’ he asked.
‘I don’t care if he doesn’t, because I love my mongrel.’ She reached out a hand to squeeze his. ‘But I am eager to see him.’
‘Yet you look worried, my love.’
Lowri swallowed hard. Every word she had ever spoken of Peyton suggested a great love between brother and sister.
Yet the lass seemed unsure of her welcome.
That was because of him. She was tainted by her association with a Macaulay.
Cullen hid his concern. ‘All will be well. Soon, you will be safe within those walls. You can sleep easily for the first time in months.’
She gave him a rueful smile. ‘I have not resented my lack of sleep these last weeks. On the contrary. There are better things to do than sleep.’
‘Glad to hear it,’ he said. ‘Now let us enter the lion’s den.’
Lowri’s smile faded as she kicked her horse forward, and soon, they were at the gates.
‘Who goes there!’ snarled a burly man, glaring at them.
‘Tis me, Selby, you fool. Open up,’ shouted Lowri.
Recognition spread on his face. ‘Lowri Strachan, as I live and breathe. I thought you were lost to us.’
‘Well, I am found, so go and tell my brother that I am here. And tell him that I am Lowri Macaulay now.’
The man’s mouth gaped open. ‘The Laird will not be liking that, and I’ll not be the one to tell him.’ With those ominous words, the man hurried down from the wall, and the gates swung open.
When they entered, the Selby fellow disappeared inside the house. Several folk nearby stopped and stared, and their faces were not friendly. They must have heard what Lowri had said.
Shouts came from inside the house, and a dark, brute of a man came running.
It had to be Peyton Strachan, for he was as black as the Devil himself, and big with it.
A blonde lass followed, shouting, ‘Wait for me,’ but he did not break his stride, and she waddled after him, cradling an enormous pregnant belly.
Petyon seemed to see no one but Lowri, taking her in his arms and clutching her to his chest. ‘Thank God, oh, thank God,’ he gasped.
‘Let go, or you will crush her to death,’ shouted the blonde lass, puffing with her exertions. She tore Peyton off his sister, pushed him back as if he were nothing, and hugged Lowri even tighter.
Alarmingly, Lowri began to sob. ‘Oh, Cecily, Peyton. I thought I’d never see you again.’
Ah, so this was Cecily. Lowri had spoken often of her great beauty, and she had not exaggerated.
‘We thought you were lost forever,’ cried Peyton, throwing his arms around both of them. ‘I cannot believe you are back. I had given you up for dead, lass.’
They hung there for a while, the three of them, and Cullen let them have their reunion. Then Lowri met his gaze and pushed them off. ‘Forgive me. I have some explaining to do, but first, you must meet Cullen.’