The man fumbled for a reply. ‘I had hopes you would marry her.’ He looked Lowri up and down. ‘You should think about the kind of man you married, lass, and be on your guard.’
The captain lurched off, and Lowri looked up at Cullen. ‘What kind of man did I marry?’
‘One who takes his pleasure where he can in this life. That lass was willing, as she was with many a man hereabouts. I never made her any promises.’
‘But…’
‘Enough. What I did before our arrangement is nought I am proud of and nought to do with you. I’m sure you have your secrets.’ Cullen steered Lowri to a settle in front of the fire. ‘Stay put. There’s folk I must meet with. I’ll send an ale over.’
Lowri glared at his retreating back, for he had left her alone again, surrounded by strangers. Why bring her if he was only going to abandon her? She fumed at Cullen, the awful, plump lass and her situation, and as the evening wore on, Lowri called for more ale. She began to feel a little in her cups, and she lost sight of Cullen. Still, it was good to be out of the cottage and see life going on around her for a change. Some folk had started to dance, and Lowri tapped her foot along with the fiddler’s music.
‘Care to join in, lovely?’ said an old man, holding his hand out. ‘A lass as fine as you should not sit in the corner.’ He was missing his front teeth, stooping at the back and was uncommonly ugly, but the courteous way he gave a little bow and the hopeful look in his eyes made her pity him.
Lowri took his hand and stood up. ‘I must warn you. I am a horrible dancer.’
‘Ah, ‘tis but a country dance. We have no airs here,’ he said, giving her a sharp tug on her arm and spinning her around. They came together, and the man winced as Lowri stepped on his toes, but he carried on, and Lowri soon got the hang of it, clapping in time to the music and losing herself in a rare moment of freedom. As they were about to come together again, the man lurched sideways, and another took his place.
‘This is well met, lass,’ said Butcher.
‘What are you doing?’ she gasped.
‘I thought you might prefer a more vigorous partner, one who does not have one foot in the grave.’
‘Well, you are wrong,’ said Lowri. She turned away from him and pushed through the press of people. A hand clamped on her upper arm, and she was half hoisted, half dragged back into the dancing.
Butcher put his face in hers. ‘We don’t want to cause a stir and have Cullen rushing over to challenge me, do we? That could end badly for him. ‘Tis just one dance, Lowri. What harm can it do?’
There was no escape. She could not see Cullen anywhere. ‘What do you want?’ she spat.
‘You are a vision in that dress.’ Butcher pulled her close and put his mouth to her ear. ‘How often does Cullen impose himself? Every night, I’d wager, you looking the way you do. Does he have to hold you down, a wild one like you, force you?’
‘Cullen does not force me.’
‘You like it then?’ he hissed. ‘I am glad you get some pleasure from sleeping with the enemy.’
Lowri pushed him back, but it was like pushing a stone wall. ‘He’s not my enemy. He is my husband.’
‘He’s as much of a brute as I am, make no mistake.’
‘Cullen is kind, in his way.’
‘Aye, kind as long as he gets what he wants. You look like a sharp lass, too clever to trust in one like him. Now me, I am of a different ilk. I do not deceive. I am open about my desires.’ He stared down at her, his beautiful black eyes burning into her soul. ‘My blood boils for you, lass. You steal my dreams, bonnie little witch.’
Another dark, handsome face flashed before her. Just for a moment, Lowri let the devil in – her cousin, Black Eaden. He was so-called because he had Lucifer’s soul, and his deedsmatched his character. He had been the same kind of man as Butcher – impressive to look at, but hollow inside. He had pursued her with flattery and lavish attention to gain her trust and make her become infatuated with him. And so she had let herself get used by a man, a bitter regret, even now.
Lowri twisted free of Butcher’s grasp and was about to rush away when he said, ‘I know all about your arrangement with Cullen. But I can put a bairn in your belly quicker than he, and I can send men to find those lads at Scarcross and free them.’
All the breath seemed to leave Lowri’s body. They stood, eyes locked, as dancers jostled them. ‘How do you know all this?
‘You intrigue me, and I thought, how could Cullen Macaulay end up with such a fine lass as you, and out of nowhere? There must be more to this tale, for it cannot be true love. I often go back and forth between Scotland and Ireland, and I’ve had dealings with Griffin Macaulay. And I am the sort of man who can demand information and get it.’
A shiver ran down Lowri’s spine.
Butcher took her hand and caressed the back of it with his thumb. Lowri looked up at him. The man was heart-wrenchingly handsome. His smile was perfect, white and dazzling behind sensual lips. His hair shone in the candlelight like a sleek seal pelt. And he was as broad and strong as a bull. No woman in her right mind would turn him down, and he could have his pick of any. Would they swoon because he had chosen to bestow his charms on them? His fingers roamed to her wrist, pressing where her blood pulsed through her body.
Lowri felt sick, as if a slug was leaving a trail of slime up her arm. She wanted to tear her hand away, but she could not. She didn’t want to remember, but it all came back to her, and suddenly she was back in the woods behind Fellscarp, scarcelysixteen years old, with Black Eaden leading her by the hand. Her heart thudded with love for him as he lay her down and she let him put his hands and his mouth where he should not. While he had not taken her virtue – his game was to make her beg him to take it, so as to revel in his triumph – he had left a scar on her heart, and a soul withered in shame.
Butcher was just the same – selfish, ruthless, a degenerate out for his own pleasure. He had the same cold ruthlessness - handsome, charming on the surface, but he was cleverer by far than Eaden, more coldly calculating. He thought she was gullible, but she had been stung by men’s lies before. She would not succumb again.
