‘Freedom, self-respect, honour.’
‘Did you have any of those before you went reiving our cattle that night?’ He grabbed her and twisted her around. ‘Look at me. I know you hate me, Lowri. You shrink away from my touch.And trust me, that forced coupling on our wedding night was as mortifying for me as it was for you. But you might get used to the way things are, in time.’
‘Get used to living a wretched life, like Maeve, taking punishment for my sins?’
‘Tis no great sin to reive now and again.’
‘Not that sin. Others, Cullen. Many others.’
‘Your sins are your own business. Now let us shake on this and have a truce. It will be less vexing that way. Shake on it.’
Lowri took his broad hand in hers. He gave it a crushing squeeze and held on. Cullen pulled her close to him, and for a moment, she thought he might kiss her as he stared into her eyes. His grip was hard, but his look was soft when he said, ‘Be wary of Maeve. It’s best not to spill your secrets to that lass.’
‘I pity her, for she is lonely and mistreated.’
‘Is she now? Lowri, you are not like Maeve. She is weak and spoiled and does not know how to fend for herself or make the best of things. You do. Now take this warning. You do not know her character. She is all feeling and no good sense.’
‘I know that you Macaulays bully her.’
‘Seamus treats her well enough. She is bitter because he does not want to lie with her. And I’ve no intention of bullying you. Slavish obedience is not what I want from a woman.’
‘So what do you want?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know what I want from a wife, Lowri.’
‘Except one thing.’
‘Aye, except that. I’m a man, and you are a lass, and I’ll make no excuses for my desire, for I find I cannot stop looking at you, beautiful Lowri Strachan.’
‘Am I supposed to be flattered that you….’
Cullen’s mouth met hers, and she froze. His lips were gentle, searching, tender. Lowri had not been kissed much in her life, and when she had, it had been all rush and spit and mortification. But this was nothing like that. It was stirring, in a strange way. Her heart clenched, her breath caught, and she could do nothing but accept the warmth of his mouth moving over hers. Cullen’s arm came around her waist, pulling her against him. His arousal pressed to her belly, and Lowri’s body recalled it being inside her, which sent a pulse of feeling between her legs, so intense, it was as if she was taken back to her wedding night with Cullen.
She could not like this. It was unwelcome, awful…oh, but Cullen tasted good, and warm, and she could feel his wanting her through that kiss.
A cough behind them had them leaping apart. Esther said, ‘If you’re done swallowing the lass whole, I’m to take her inside and wash and dress her, to make her respectable in time for supper.’
‘The way the lass was kissing me just now, it will take more than a wash and a change of clothes to make her respectable,’ laughed Cullen, and Lowri wanted to knife him in the throat.
Cullen had not meant that kiss. He had only done it to taunt her, damn his eyes. She hurried to Esther, and when she happened to glance back, Cullen’s smile had faded from his face, replaced by hunger and a kind of desolation.
Chapter Twelve
Cullen watched Lowri from across the table as she wolfed down the tasty supper Esther had laid before them all – rabbit stew, freshly baked bannocks and roast parsnips and carrots. His bride gulped down her food like a stray dog, as if it might be taken from her at any minute. How cruelly his father must have starved her when she was in his clutches.
Lowri had drunk a good deal of the strong ale, too, along with everyone else. No doubt, she was sinking into its yeasty depths to escape him and their marriage bed, and the tension in the room. There had been little conversation so far, beyond talk of crops and quarrels with neighbours. It seemed Seamus had not stopped drinking since their talk earlier in the day. He was slurring his words.
Maeve was quiet. The lass usually rattled on incessantly, but Seamus had clearly told Maeve all about Cullen’s hasty marriage, for she shot Lowri smug looks from across the table, sizing her up. Cullen knew Maeve’s character. She would rejoice that someone was worse off than she.
‘Do you like the dress I gave Lowri?’ said Maeve to Cullen.
Lowri paused mid-chew. The dress was faded grey with a bit of lace around the bodice. It matched the dark shadows under her eyes and was no doubt one of Maeve’s least-wanted cast-offs, but it gave the lass a soft womanliness, and the pink in her cheeks brightened it.
‘Aye. She looks very well in it,’ he replied.
‘I agree,’ continued Maeve. ‘Your wife is a little too coarse to be called beautiful, but she may lay claim to being bonnie, and a certain kind of man would like her dark and savage looks, I suppose.’
Cullen bit down hard on his temper, but Lowri just ignored Maeve and carried on eating. Not getting the reaction she sought, Maeve turned to her husband. ‘Do you think Cullen’s wife is bonnie, Seamus?’
