Cullen rummaged in a sack and threw a bundle of red at her. It was a dress - costly and exquisite, not that such things had ever interested her much. But it meant he had thought of her and brought it to please her. It was a kindness she probably did not deserve.
He stared with a strange, hungry look on his face when she held it against herself. ‘Shall I put it on?’
‘No, for you’ll only have to take it off again.’ His words sent a chill down her spine and had her pulsing with anticipation. Cullen leapt back into bed and cast the dress aside. He kissed her. ‘I can go again, if you can?’ he said.
‘I can go again too,’ she said, hoping that the rush of pleasure at him saying it did not mean she was fool to her bones.
The night was long and spent with Cullen’s body all over hers. Lowri woke at first light to a gripping pain in her belly. Surely her exploits could not have been so violent that she had hurt herself. She glanced at Cullen. He was on his back, the blankets thrown back to reveal a slab of muscled chest, pale skin and a thin river of brown hair running down his flat belly. If she put her mouth to that river, she could follow it down and put her mouth to other things. After all, he had tasted her.
Lowri chided herself. The idea was too deviant for her to try it. Besides, her belly hurt. She eased out of bed so as not to wake Cullen and went outside. She put her hand between her legs, and her fingers came away bloody.
Her courses had come. Damn. How could that be? She had given herself to her husband in every way imaginable, and in a few ways that shocked and shamed her. Now, she could not lie with Cullen and feel that big, muscular body slamming into hers. She went back inside, and it was only then that the thought hit her. She was more disappointed that she could not lie with Cullen than that no bairn was coming to secure her friends’ release.
Cullen sat up. ‘Where did you go?’
‘Just outside for some air.
‘Come back to bed.’
‘No. My courses have come.’
He gave her a weak smile. ‘Then we shall just have to redouble our efforts in future. Come here for me to hold you.’
‘No, I must walk off the pain.’
Her words were a little sharp, and they must have insulted him, for his face changed and his tone became stern, all the gentle intimacy of the night, gone. ‘Do not wander off again, Lowri. Butcher has seen you, and from now on, he will covet you relentlessly.’
‘I don’t want Butcher.’
‘It does not matter what you want. That man always gets his way eventually, by charm or violence.’
‘No man will ever own me or my body. I am not for sale. Let us be clear, Cullen.
‘As you like. But from now on, wherever I go, you go. And be minded, lass, some places I go may not be to your liking.
Chapter Nineteen
Spring rolled on, warming the land, setting the trees to blossoming and lambs appearing in the fields. Yet Ireland had a peculiar ability to be perpetually wet, so there was always an excuse to stay abed with Cullen. Some days it was torrential rain, driving Lowri indoors. Other days, Ireland would relent and just produce a grey drizzle, or soften to a damp mist that pearled on her hair and released the scent of spring grass.
On the rare days when the sun warmed the earth and dried the grass, Cullen would take Lowri by the hand and lead her out to the fields around Kildara. He would get a soft look on his face and lie her down in the long grass and wildflowers and take her under the vast sky. Lowri became lost in desire. Cullen’s body was a wonder, everything so hard and sleek. She explored its textures with her tongue and hands - the smooth muscles of his stomach, the crisp hair between his legs. His hands were calloused from hard work, cat’s-tongue rough, yet they brought her to panted ecstasy with utter gentleness and care. His manhood mesmerised her – satin married to steel, slippery when she caressed him, and he became aroused. She would slide her thumb over its smooth dome, and Cullen would groan and urge her on.
With a sigh, Lowri put down the rabbit carcasses she was skinning. This surrender to carnal pleasure would not do. It was in the cause of getting with child and freeing her friends, or at least, that was what she told herself. It was a lie, of course. Donnan and Rory were still imprisoned, and yet she was lettingthe son of their jailor do all sorts of lewd things to her body. Lowri stared at the blood on her hands. If she did not get with child soon, her friends’ blood would be on her hands too, and she could not live with that. She was losing sight of who she was, slipping into a life that was built on a lie with a man she was dangerously close to being infatuated with. Guilt soured her day.
Cullen burst in with the sun in his eyes and excitement in his gait. ‘Wash that gore off your hands. We are taking a trip to Larne.’
‘Why?’
‘Does it matter? I must transact some business there, and we can stay at the inn. There’s ships in, so the tavern will be lively, with ale flowing and dancing into the night. ‘Tis but five miles or so, an easy ride.’
‘I’ve never been one for dancing and kicking up my skirts,’ said Lowri. His face fell, so she added, ‘But I always relish a hard gallop.’
‘I know,’ he smirked, and Lowri got such a flood of lust to her loins that she could only nod and rush outside to wash.
***
The ride was exhilarating, all blue sky and crisp wind in her hair, and by the time the sun was lowering, they reached Larne, where poor, low cottages rubbed shoulders with a few finer stone houses. The little town stretched inland from a curving pebbled shoreline, which formed a natural harbour. There was a wharf where several ships were at anchor. Gulls screeched, and baskets of herring sent a pungent smell out into the air as folk bustled about their business. It was all a little daunting after the quiet solitude of Kildara.
Cullen led Lowri by the hand to one of the finer buildings, which served as the inn. Upstairs, she found herself in a wood-panelled room with a low-beamed ceiling, a bed, and little else. They both stared at the bed as the air grew heavy between them.
