‘I don’t know what I’m saying. Do not press the subject, if you know what’s good for you.’
Perhaps if she was softer with him, Cullen might relent. ‘Last night…well…you didn’t hurt me beyond doing what was necessary, and I am grateful for that.’
‘I owed you that kindness at least.’
‘So we need not do it again.’
He just shrugged.
‘But can we not lie about a bairn coming? Then we could be free of each other.’
‘Aye, we could. That may be the way.’ His brow furrowed. Then he said, ‘But if you had a bairn with me, that would tie you to the Macaulays, would it not? You seem like a hard lass, but you would hardly abandon your bairn to run back to Peyton. And my father would not let you take the bairn away, nor wouldI. It is a cruel but clever way of holding onto you, to make your brother’s suffering greater.’
He was right. She would be trapped forever by her love for her child. ‘So every time I suffer to lie with you, I have more chance of getting a bairn, more shackles coiled around me,’ she said, choking back tears.
‘Don’t fash, Lowri Macaulay. I’m not that much of a pig, and besides, I don’t want to conceive a bairn in bitterness, nor lie with a lass who was forced upon me, though it would be no chore to do it.’ He gave her a look that made her clothes melt off her body, a look she did not like, a look that frightened her. Cullen sighed. ‘Lass, we must wriggle out of this trap somehow.’
How could she trust anything this wretch said? Lowri’s heart sank like a stone in a well, down to very black depths, as she imagined a grim future. All Cullen had to do was grit his teeth and get her with child, and then she would be tied forever to a clan she hated. If she ran from him, he could come and claim her, like stolen cattle. By marrying her, he had put a brand on her that marked her out as his possession forever. In the eyes of the law and God, Cullen Macaulay had rights over her body, and as a man, it would only ever be his choice to shun the marriage bed, not hers.
Lowri eyed the dirk shoved into his belt. If she stole it, she could slit his throat in his sleep, but that would not recover Donnan and Rory, and, anyway, she was no murderer. She could never kill a man in cold blood, no matter how much she hated him.
‘If you do not want me, and you do not want to be married, why bring me along with you?’ she asked.
‘Would you rather I left you at Scarcross to endure Allard’s attentions? His blood ran hot for you.’
‘No. But you haven’t answered my question.’
‘Alright. Here is an honest answer. I don’t know why I brought you along. I just felt like I had to. Sometimes, I do not know myself, lass. I do not know why I do what I do. It would have plagued my conscience to imagine you on a ship to the colonies or swinging from a rope, just as it plagues your conscience to think of those lads locked up.’
All the fight seeped out of Lowri. Like his father, Cullen had a way of finding a weak spot and poking a knife in it.
‘Lass, there is still hope that they will eventually be free and off your conscience. Be thankful for that much at least.’
‘I am, even though your company is unendurable.’
‘Ah, lass, you can tolerate all manner of ills in this life if you put your mind to it. And here comes one now.’ Cullen looked up as the heavens opened and fat raindrops began to plop down. ‘There is shelter up ahead. Come, let us make haste.’
***
Cullen’s idea of shelter turned out to be a large overhang of rock protruding from the hillside, almost swallowed by the dense trees. It meant they were out of the worst of the gusting rain, but not warm. Darkness crept in by the time Cullen had gathered wood and set a fire, and though its glow gave some comfort, it did little to melt the ice that hardened around Lowri’s heart.
Cullen had given her bread to eat, but it was hard to swallow, and she could not stop her teeth chattering as she kept wary eyes on him, squatting opposite and holding his palms out to the flames. The smoke blew her way, making her eyes water, but she gave no complaint. Her captor would not care if she did. Captor, aye, for she could not think of him as her husband. It was toohorrible to contemplate. How she longed to push him over onto the fire. Serve him right if he was seared like a side of pork.
Cullen rose and came over to her. ‘You are cold, lass. Sit closer to the fire.’
‘No, I will catch the wind that way.’
He sat beside her, hips touching, and she shied away. But Cullen took hold of her about the waist and pulled her back against him as if she was nothing, taking a swathe of his plaid and putting it around her shoulders.
‘There, that’ll cut the wind a little,’ he said.
‘Why make yourself colder for my sake?’
‘The cold does not bother me, lass. I run hot.’
‘Like the Devil with Hell’s flames licking him?’ she said.
He laughed from his belly. ‘Aye, just so. You have the measure of me, Lowri. But you must tolerate the Devil being this close, for your own sake, not mine.’
