The market was a rare treat - a bustling, noisy place where folk traded their wares from miles around. A warm breeze floated off the sea and the tiny crowded harbour. She was out, in amongst people and life, and Lowri had almost stopped feeling homesick. Men were arm-wrestling and playing dice, and there were shouts from others watching a cock fight.Hawkers shouted their wares, and Connie seemed to know lots of people, constantly waving and stopping to talk. Lowri nodded and chatted along for hours, but she grew restless. She glanced towards the small harbour, watching some fishermen offload a catch of fish, their black-striped flanks iridescent in the sun. Mackerel – oily, pungent and delicious. Her stomach growled, for she had quite the appetite of late.
Connie tugged on her arm, glancing at the sky. ‘The sun is lowering, and that wind is whipping up. We must be on our way soon, or we’ll not get home by dark, and I fear we’ll get a drenching.’
‘I’ve a mind to go and get some fish for supper and see you back here,’ said Lowri, pointing towards the dock. Connie waved her off and melted into the crowd.
Lowri set off, pushing past folk and jumping out of the way of cargo being unloaded. She had to pass a ship a little bigger than the others, an impressive vessel which hogged the primitive wooden dock, and was alive with the shouts of its crew. They seemed to be ready to depart, hoping to catch the tide, most likely. Part of her wanted to set sail with them, but that would mean leaving a part of her behind. Cullen was in her soul now as much as he was in her body. Lowri hurried to buy her fish and return home to his bed.
‘How much for four mackerel?’ she asked the fisherman.
‘Not much for a bonnie lass like you,’ he leered.
‘I’ll have four and none of your nonsense,’ she replied, but with a smile.
‘I’ll find some nice fat ones,’ he said, winking, and rummaging about in the pile of fish.
Lowri glanced up at rigging flapping violently in the rising wind. A man was climbing down. He was tall and muscular, his sandy hair tied back in a knot, shirt billowing out in the breeze, then folding into his body. He jumped off the ropes and landed softly like a cat. There was something about him that drew her eye. Goodness, she was leering, just like the fisherman was at her.
The sailor turned towards the shore and caught her staring, and Lowri’s legs almost went from under her. There was a ringing in her ears, and she staggered. The man selling the fish held her up. ‘Alright, lass?’ he asked, his kindly face in hers. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
She could not draw a breath. The world spun, and she had to cling to the man.
‘She is alright. Take your hands off her.’ The voice was as familiar as it was shocking.
Lowri stared up at Donnan Strachan as if in a dream. He pushed the fisherman away and hauled her down the wharf by the elbow. ‘We need to get away from prying eyes,’ he hissed.
By the time he had dragged her off the dock and a long way down the sand and shingle beach, Lowri’s wits returned, and happiness swelled her breast. ‘You can let go now, Donnan. I’ll not faint away.’
Donnan released her and stepped back, saying nothing. The hiss of waves crashing into the shingle seemed to boom in Lowri’s ears, and she felt awkward, as if they were strangers, for her friend had changed almost beyond recognition. Donnan’s face was leaner, and his once mousy hair held blonde streaks. Had he been out in the sun? The hard look in his eyes had not been there before. Was it bitterness aimed at her? She couldn't blame him for it.
‘Thank God, you are alive, Donnan. I feared for you,’ she gasped.
‘Did you? It warms me to hear that, Lowri.’
‘How are you here? I thought you were a prisoner at Scarcross?’
Donnan raked his fingers through his hair. ‘I came here on that ship, sailed from Wales, two weeks ago.’
‘Two weeks?’ Lowri punched him in the chest playfully, like she used to. He did not seem to feel it. ‘I don’t care what foul wind blew you here, Donnan. How did you get away from Griffin?’
His face twisted with anguish as he looked down at her, but he did not answer her question. His scrutiny was piercing and mortifying, until he said, ‘My God, I thought you had beauty before, but now, you are radiant. You are wasted on that wretch, Macaulay.’
Donnan took her face in his hands and kissed her. At first, she was too shocked to protest, but when his tongue wormed into her mouth, Lowri tore her hands free and slapped him, the way she had done so many times before, when he had been forward with her.
Donnan rubbed his cheek and laughed. ‘Ah, so your love for me has not blossomed since last we met.’
‘Last we met was in Griffin Macaulay’s barn, where he was having you beaten.’
‘Aye, that bastard did a far better job of that than I was expecting,’ he said, laughing, but there was no mirth in it, only malice. ‘I ached for days after. But that’s what happens when you try to sup with the devil.’
‘What are you talking about?’ asked Lowri, but the sick feeling in her stomach meant she was not going to like his answer. The sun had gone behind a cloud. The whole world had darkened.
‘Twas all for show, lass. I was never a prisoner.’ A smirk played around his lips.
The air left Lowri’s lungs, and suddenly her stays were too tight. ‘But I saw you beaten.’
‘Convincing, wasn’t I?’ He sneered. ‘I can’t believe you fell for it.’
‘So you were always free to go? You were in this with Griffin?’
