Aye, she must think of a way out of this trap she had set for herself with her folly, lust, and recklessness before it was too late.
Chapter Twelve
Bryce did not return, and night fell. Maren did not miss him because servants came bustling in, lighting the fire, bringing water for washing and laying fine clothes out on the bed for her to try on, though she had little inclination to. They brought more food than she could eat, too, though she tried her best to stuff bannocks and cold meats and little cakes into her mouth to bursting. Had they come at Bryce’s bidding? Was he trying to be kind in his offhand way?
Maren spent her time walking around the sumptuously appointed room, stroking the ochre silk of the heavy curtains mirrored in the finely upholstered French chairs set before the fire. They were edged with gold trim, and there were screens depicting Greek myths, finely painted in duck egg blues, soft creams and blushing pinks. Everything was sensuous and pretty. She would never have imagined a castle to be such a feast for the eyes, and though the chamber was cavernous compared to rooms she was used to, it somehow managed to be cosy.
Occasionally, her eyes were drawn to the massive bed in one corner. It, too, was canopied in ochre silk, and when Maren lay down on the furs and blankets to rest and closed the curtains around her, it was like lying inside the sun, warm and womb-like.
Maren’s anger faded, and steely resolve took its place. She could be on a ship to servitude and broken-backed and age-withered by toil within a year. Instead, she should count herself lucky that Bryce Cullan had taken a shine to her. As long as she did not succumb to his charms and lose her heart, she could take this chance and run all the way to a new life, a new start, in Edinburgh, perhaps, leaving her broken past behind.
A firm tap on the door had Maren sitting up with a start. Had she dozed? There was a creak and a thud and then Bryce’s voice. ‘Are you hiding from me, Maren? Surely a sturdy lass like you doesn’t cower.’
His teasing tone sparked irritation. Maren swept back the curtains and glared. ‘So you came back. I wonder that you didn’t pursue the lovely Clara McMullan and declare your love. You were on the brink of marrying her, weren’t you?’
He shrugged. ‘I suppose I was, aye.’
‘Yet you turned down a flower of womanhood like that for me.’
‘Her father is an in-bred simpleton, and so will her bairns be. And remember, I have only married you, hellion, to defy my father and save my inheritance, not for love or lust.’
‘I could tell him everything, and then you will be ruined.’
‘Aye, and then you will be thrown out on your backside with a good whipping to boot. I don’t think you will do that. Here, I have whisky. Let us toast to a mutually beneficial arrangement and our first night in the marital bed.’
Bryce swigged from the bottle and handed it to her. Obviously, he thought her a rough peasant, not worthy of a cup.
‘What will you tell your father about my family?’ said Maren, taking a big gulp from the bottle and passing it back. ‘Surely he will have questions.’
‘The story you cooked up should suffice, and it was most inventive, lass,’ he said, lying down on the bed. ‘Let us get it straight. Your family came from Helmsdale, where they were minor landowners and almost gentry, not lairds like the Cullans. Sadly, they were taken from you a year ago in a tragic carriage accident, leaving you with a small but substantial inheritance when you come of age at one and twenty. You have no other surviving relations, so you can marry for love. Are we agreed?’
‘What if he asks questions?’
‘He won’t, for two reasons. One, I have told him that you are still prostrate with grief over being orphaned, and my father is too kind and sensitive a man to cause pain to any lass. And two, he will be distracted by your charm and pretty face.’
‘You keep calling me bonnie, yet you repelled me when we kissed. Why?’
‘Pricked your pride, have I, Maren?’ Bryce lay back on the furs, nursing the bottle to his chest. ‘Fear not. Any man with eyes would call you bonnie, so don’t get offended.’
‘Answer the question, Bryce Cullan. Why repel me?’
‘Because you are a cunning little minx who will lead me a merry dance, and I’m no hog with a ring through my nose to be so led.’
‘No woman has ever mastered you, has she?’ said Maren.
Bryce turned warm eyes to her, and his face was all seriousness. ‘Until now.’
The chamber suddenly seemed hot, her dress too tight to catch a breath and her belly a tight coil of longing.
‘You talk such nonsense.’
Bryce sat up next to her. ‘I admire you, Maren,’ he said. ‘I’ve never met anyone like you.’
‘A common criminal, you mean.’
‘No. I mean that you are a singular person in every way, possessed of a woman’s beauty married to a man’s courage. There is a fire in your heart, and that, I admire wholeheartedly. Were our circumstances different, I would pursue you relentlessly, lass.’
‘Only if I were rich,’ she replied
