‘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, shewould 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.’
