‘And Black Eaden? What was he to you?’
Shame heated her cheeks. She threw off Cullen’s plaid and eased away from him. ‘I will not speak of him.’
He did not press her on the matter. Instead, he stared at her for a while, as if his eyes could bore into her head and dig out all her shameful, dirty little secrets. Did he think she was unchaste, like Maeve Glendenning? Did he despise her, even though he said he did not?
Cullen turned away to put more wood on the fire, and so the night dragged on, in coldness, exhaustion and silence. Lowri had never been so lonely and helpless in her life. And if she gave in to sleep and lay down in the darkness, what was Cullen Macaulay going to do to her?
Chapter Ten
Cullen woke to a frigid dawn. In the night, he’d pulled his plaid over his head to stave off the cold, and he peered out to see Lowri, squatting by the pitiful fire, adding sticks to it. Had she kept it going all night? That was surprising, for he had half expected Lowri to sneak away by dawn, and Cullen didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that she was still with him.
Under the cover of his plaid, Cullen pretended to still be sleeping, allowing him the chance to stare at the lass without discomforting her. Tendrils of jet black hair hung around Lowri’s face, and exhaustion etched dark shadows under her eyes. Her dirt-streaked face was pink from the cold. It was heart-shaped, and there was delicacy to her features – smooth black brows and thick-lashed eyes giving it a softness that belied the stubbornness of her nature. If she’d been a gentler lass and did not hate him so much, he could have persuaded her to curl up next to him for warmth. How sweet it would have been to feel the heat of that lithe body pressed to his. His mood soured as an awful thought occurred to Cullen.
Lowri was bonnie, and he wanted her. More than he had first thought, anyway.
‘Please stop staring at me,’ she hissed.
Cullen’s desire faded. He sat upright and feigned a yawn. ‘Ah, forgive me. I’ll own that I was staring. Does it frighten you?’
‘No, but it makes me feel like a hunted animal.’
Lowri clearly found him repulsive. Why would she not, given the circumstances of their union? Cullen went over to the fire and held his hands out to warm them. ‘You stayed awake all night?’
‘Aye, for I could not sleep.’
Cullen took her gently by the arm and pulled her up to meet his eye. She did not pull away and seemed to sway a little in his grip. Lowri Strachan was clearly at the end of her stamina.
‘Lass, we cannot go on sniping at each other. We must find a way to get on,’ said Cullen gently. ‘Can we have a truce?’
‘I think it is beyond me to play the joyous bride in front of your cousin, Seamus,’ she said.
‘I don’t ask that, and it’s not as if my cousin is happily wed. So, I ask this. Try to reconcile yourself to being my wife. We are seeking the hospitality of Graywell, and it would serve you well to be polite and obedient.’
‘Serve you, more like.’ She shook him off. ‘But alright. I will do it. I will be mute and submissive, a perfect wife to a Macaulay.’
‘Good. And in time, you might come to enjoy it.’
‘And you can rot in hell, Cullen Macaulay.’
***
Several hours ride brought them out of the woods and into wide open fields, tumbling over each other as far as the eye could see, and beyond, a thin ribbon of grey water.
Lowri seemed close to exhaustion. It was etched in her pinched lips, pale cheeks and drooping head. Every time Cullen spoke to her, which was not often, she would sit upright on her horse, alert and on edge, waiting for danger. Any other lass of his acquaintance would have sobbed and pleaded, or collapsed in aheap of weakness, but not this one. His reluctant bride gave no word of complaint, nor asked to rest. He had to force a stop, here and there, and her endurance gave rise to a grudging respect. They bred them hard, the Strachans, and this one had iron in her veins.
He pulled up his horse. ‘Lowri, look, see there, that smoke. It comes from the chimney at Graywell, just over the next rise. Soon, we can rest, eat well and warm our bones before a fire. How do you like that?’
She gave him a desperate, hopeless look. Of course, all she saw was more Macaulays, more tormentors.
‘You’ve no reason to, but trust me, lass. All will be well. I swear.’
Lowri urged her horse forward with a frown, and in no time at all, the path led them up to the house. A scruffy lad was teasing a dog in the yard, jerking a piece of bread up and down, just out of reach. He froze when he saw them and rushed inside, shouting, ‘Come quick! Visitors!’
Within moments, Seamus rushed out with a pistol in hand. It had been a while, but Cullen's cousin was still as burly and belligerent as he remembered. Cullen’s face broke into a smile.
‘We have come seeking a bed for the night, cousin,’ he said.
Seamus looked Lowri over slowly. ‘I’m sure you have. Is this your latest tumble? I am impressed, though her face is a little sour. Smile, lass,’ he commanded.
