Lowri wondered if the more distance Cullen put between his father and Scarcross, the kinder he got. He’d fed her, not laid a finger on her, and now he was trying to keep her warm. Oh, but it was useless to hope for kindness from a Macaulay. Only a fool would do that.
The wind gusted over the fire, and Cullen’s arm tightened about her shoulders. Lowri could not help but lean into him, because the scrap of warmth he gave was welcome. Beyond the glow of the fire, the night was pitch black, and the trees groaned in the wind. There was something dreadful about the forest. Were Rory and Duncan out there somewhere, suffering the cold more than she?
‘This discomfort is only for one night, so you must bear it as best you can,’ said Cullen.
‘I have slept in the open before. I am not some soft, useless lass,’ she replied.
‘Aye, not soft, and time will tell if you are useful,’ he replied, gazing into her face. ‘You know, when you are not spitting your wrath at me, you are very bonny indeed, Lowri Macaulay.’
‘Stop calling me that.’
He smiled. ‘Perhaps it is the firelight.’ His gaze roamed to her mouth and rested there. When their eyes met again, his were hungry. She had seen that look on men’s faces before - her cousin Eaden’s, Donnan’s, and some other lads around Fellscarp. Her cheeks flamed, and not from the fire. Cullen’s mouth came closer.
‘Where are we going? Do you have a home somewhere out here,’ she said quickly.
He jerked away and leaned to put more wood on the fire, seeming as unsettled by that shared look as she was. ‘I have a place, far from here, but we are making a stop on the road first. I must visit my cousin, Seamus. He bides a day’s ride from here at a place called Graywell. He is recently wed.’
Lowri frowned. The name was familiar.
‘Seamus wed Jasper Glendenning’s sister, Maeve. So he got an alliance with a powerful family, land, wealth and a bit more besides.’
‘I heard about it. They wed in haste, and there were rumours about Maeve Glendenning’s condition at her wedding that were not flattering.'
‘Say it aloud, lass. There is no one around to be scandalised. Maeve bore a swollen belly to the altar, and not on account of Seamus. Aye, and the union surprised everyone in the West March, for the Glendennings always looked down their noses at the Macaulays.’
‘With good reason.’
Cullen narrowed his eyes. ‘It was no love match, just like us, for my father had a hand in it, and everything he touches is tainted.’
‘Did he force your cousin to marry?’
‘Aye, but not in the same way. Lured, is more the word, and it’s not as if Seamus’ heart was given elsewhere.’
Lowri wondered if she had a rival, well, not rival, but someone who wanted Cullen, longed for him. He was a man who any lass would look twice at. Until now, it had never occurred to her that other women might desire the man who had been forced upon her.
‘Is your heart given elsewhere?’ she asked. He did not answer, and Lowri’s stomach clenched at the thought of Cullen loving another and being forced to take her. It was so utterly humiliating. How he would despise her for it. ‘Is that why you detest this marriage?’
‘Listen, lass, I don’t have a heart to give, and I do not detest this marriage or you. It would be easier if I did.’ Again, that hot look, his eyes searching hers.
He swiftly turned the subject back to his cousin. ‘Seamus’ nuptials were quite the scandal. He was bribed into taking Maeve, what with the bairn in her belly and all. And ‘tis said she was reputed to be a little free with her favours.’
‘Then why did he do it? He is a man, so I am sure he was given more choice than she was.’
‘Seamus is a clever, ambitious too. Why not marry for advantage, if you can, and word has it, Maeve Glendenning is comely enough to tempt a man?’
‘So, if a woman is an ornament and has a fat dowry, then her character and reputation can be set aside?’
Cullen sighed. ‘Aye. But I’ve never set much store by reputation. What lies in a heart is more important. And a man can forgive all manner of ills if he likes the look of a lass. We are weak creatures in that way.’ He shrugged. ‘I suppose, in time, I might come to forget you are a Strachan.’
‘I will never forget that you are a Macaulay,’ said Lowri.
He was silent for a while, and there was just the cackle of the fire, then he said, ‘And what of your heart, lass? Did you give it away to that Donnan lad, or someone else?’
‘No.’
‘As he was dragged away after his beating, he was shouting that he loved you.’
‘Well, he does not, so there it is.’
