‘Imported.’
‘That’s a very fine line you are skirting, Cullen. So, you are a smuggler, nought but a criminal.’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘You should feel right at home, being one yourself.’
‘Reiving a bit here and there is quite different, and I never judged others as you have judged me.’
He shrugged. ‘I did judge you, so maybe I am a hypocrite. And maybe we are not so different, you and I, except that I deal with far more dangerous folk than you, folk that make my father look like a saint.’
His words gave Lowri a rush of dread. She was alone in this awful place, and Cullen could do what he liked with her. And if his accomplices were more dangerous than Griffin, what did that say about him?
‘So what are we doing in this den of thieves?’
Cullen let the insult go. ‘Making ourselves comfortable. We will be here until the storm passes. And the tide is about to wash in, so we cannot leave until it goes out.’
‘You mean to say we are trapped.’
‘Aye.’ He wriggled out of his jacket and handed it to her. ‘Don’t be a fool and refuse it. You can hardly speak for your teeth chattering.’
Lowri snatched the jacket out of Cullen’s hand and put it on. Let him freeze to death if he wanted. After that, there was no more talking, and a long time passed in heavy silence punctuated by cracks of thunder. Lowri sat on a crate and simmered inside. As the jacket warmed against her skin, it gave off a Cullen smell – earthy, a faint whiff of old whisky, horses and the sea.
Her mind rushed back to the bed at Graywell, her body swelling with need, that hot slick coupling of flesh sliding onflesh. How could she be so close to a person, joining her body to Cullen one minute, and wanting to rip his throat out the next? Lowri struggled to hold back tears. She was no closer to getting freedom for Donnan and Rory, and to do that, she would have to lie with Cullen again to get a bairn. Oh, it would be awful. How could she even do that with such an angry man?
Then, in the silence, Cullen’s words dropped into her head. ‘Just take him in hand, and he will do anything you ask.’
Lowri wasn’t quite sure what he meant by ‘take him in hand,’ but when she lay with Cullen, he had been nicer to her, and she had felt that they were coming to a softening of hostilities. Aye, perhaps that was the way. She could be softer with Cullen to get what she wanted and escape his clutches. If that meant climbing into his bed and pretending she wanted him, so be it.
But would she really be pretending?
‘I think the storm has blown through. Let’s go,’ said Cullen into the silence. He held out a hand for her, and Lowri clenched her teeth and took it. They emerged from the cave to find the sea had crept back and the skies were washed out, clouds shredded by the storm, sweeping across it. Cullen let go of her hand, and they walked until the cliffs levelled out. A rough path upwards took them from rock to sand dunes dotted with sea grass, and beyond, green rolling hills. They walked along high hedgerows for what seemed like a mile or two, until Lowri spotted the thatch of a house in the distance.
‘Is that where we are going?’ said Lowri, praying it was, for she was about to drop.
‘Aye, that is my home,’ said Cullen with a hint of pride.
‘Is it a comfortable prison?
‘I don’t want it to be a prison, lass,’ he said bitterly. ‘I thought we had an agreement, but if you don’t want to lie with me, I’ll not force you, and no bairn will come. You will have to free those lads another way. Do what you like, get your brother to come and fetch you, send him to war with my father, sacrifice those lads to be free. But until you decide, you must bide here with me.’
‘If you were kind, I could do it – lie with you, I mean,’ said Lowri.
He gave a bitter laugh. ‘If I was kind! How much kinder do you want me to be? Do you think I want to have a woman suffer me? Do you think I want to lie with someone who finds me disgusting, who runs from my touch? And trust me, lass, most women don’t.’ He kicked the toe of his boot into the ground, head down. ‘We are wed. This is where you find yourself. Get used to it.’
He walked quickly onwards, and Lowri cried, ‘I didn’t find you disgusting.’
Cullen stopped, fists clenched.
Lowri caught up with him and grabbed his arm. His eyes blazed at her. ‘I pushed you away because…well, because I didn’t hate it and…’ She could not meet his eye. ‘I suppose I hated myself for doing it. There, I have said it aloud. I am a traitor to my clan, my friends and myself.’
She thought he would soften, that his pride would be placated. Instead, he said, ‘I don’t trust a word that comes out of your mouth, Lowri Strachan, and I’m no fool, so don’t take me for one. Now hurry, it is too cold to stand here arguing.’
Lowri tore off his jacket and hurled it at his feet. ‘If you are cold, take your damned jacket back.’
Cullen picked it up and put it on. It hurt that it made him look more handsome. Then he carried on walking ahead.
She was a fool to rile him. Damn her temper. Lowri hurried after him. ‘Would it help if I said I was sorry?’ she cried.
‘No, and if you want me to lie with you again, lass, you are going to have to beg me.’
