‘Wake up,’ she cried. ‘Cullen, get out of your wet clothes too, or you will take cold, and I’ve no wish to nurse you,’ she said, not looking at him.
Cullen did as he was bid, moving out of sight of the stranger lying on the floor. He regarded her from across the room. The colour had begun to return to her lips and cheeks, but she remained in a dead faint. Did she ail? Had he plucked a beauty from the sea just to have her die before his hearth, water pooling in her lungs?
Suddenly, the lass lurched up with a cry of panic. ‘Where am I?’ she blurted out.
Lowri grabbed hold of her. ‘You are safe. Calm yourself.’
‘The ship. Oh, God. I was in the water, and it was so cold, and I started to sink and then…’ She burst into choking sobs, and Lowri rubbed her back and cooed to her.
‘There now. What is your name?’
The woman looked blankly at Lowri for a moment, then said, ‘Briony Falstaff. That is my name. Yes. I am of the Derry Fallstaffs.’
‘Well, you are safe. We will help you.’
‘We?’ The woman turned, and when she spotted Cullen, she started screaming. ‘No, no.’ She pushed Lowri away and staggered to her feet. ‘I recognise that devil. He was with those thugs on the beach.’
‘That is my husband, Cullen. He pulled you from the sea. He saved you. Your ordeal is over.’
‘No, it is not. It is just beginning,’ she said. Her eyes were wide with panic. She was raving. ‘I cannot be here. I am to be married.’
Lowri tried to calm her, but she pushed her away and rushed to the door. Cullen just managed to catch Briony in his arms before she swooned. He carried her over to their bed and placed her gently down, throwing blankets over her, but the lass still shivered violently, muttering and crying out.
‘What is wrong with her?’ said Lowri.
‘I think she is in distress after her ordeal. It must have been terrifying on that sinking ship. She was almost drowned when I pulled her out.’
They both stared down at the young woman in their bed. ‘She’s so beautiful,’ said Cullen.
Lowri gave him a strange, searching look which he could not make out, for it was neither anger nor distrust, but something worse, maybe disappointment.
‘Lass, we must talk about what you said about Donnan.’
She put a finger to her lips and nodded towards Briony. ‘That can wait. For now, we must try and save this poor soul.’ She paused as if waiting for him to say something. When he did not, she sighed and began to remove her clothes. He watched as she undressed down to her shift, then climbed in next to Briony, back-to-back, black hair next to blonde.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Giving the lass the warmth of my body. You can sleep before the fire, unless you wish to trade places with me.’ There was a snap to her voice, a bitterness he had not heard before.
Cullen turned away and settled into the chair before the fire, chasing sleep that would not come.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lowri barely slept. Seething at Cullen’s treachery gave her no rest, nor did the strange woman in her bed, jerking awake in panic and twitching in her sleep. Exhausted, Lowri had gone out to tend to the horses and chickens at first light, leaving Cullen and the woman to rest. When she returned a long while later, voices murmured inside the cottage. Lowri paused before entering. She spied Cullen seated on the bed. Beside him, the lass sipped broth from a bowl the way a kitten would lap up milk.
She was all delicacy – golden coils of hair, fine and soft, like a child's, a rosy hint to her cheeks, and that face, so perfectly heart-shaped and beautiful. There was nothing hard about her, just womanly curves, and she would turn any man’s head. She was to be married, she’d said. Lowri wondered if her betrothed was in love with her. Was he an ardent lover who pursued her instead of taking her into his life begrudgingly? Would their wedding night be gentle and affectionate instead of a hurried, degrading coupling just to seal a bargain?
Lowri watched Cullen with a sinking heart. How tender he was with the woman, his voice quiet and compassionate, urging her to take heart, to eat and regain her strength. Yet Lowri was sure he’d had a part in the wrecking of the ship that carried Briony Fallstaff.
Lowri hated herself for the pathetic creature she had become. She had given her body to Cullen, and from the ache in her chest watching the two of them with their heads together, part of her soul had gone with it. Had she imagined the way Cullen’s hardbody spoke to hers, joining as if they were one person, with one feeling? Doubt wormed its way into Lowri’s mind, nibbling at the affection she had begun to feel for her husband. She would not name it as love, for it could never be that. She refused to be that much of a fool.
Cullen could not stop staring at the beauty he had snatched from the sea. How quickly his head had been turned once a fresh and bonnie temptation had been placed before him. Lowri’s breath caught as Cullen reached up and teased a lock of blond hair from Briony’s lovely face. He had used that same tenderness on her, that gentle touch, those calming words. Had he been a liar all along, and a murderous villain, just like his father?
If she was to know the truth of it, she would have to ask Butcher and watch his face for signs of deceit. In the chaos and horror of that wreck, it had been impossible to tell a truth from a lie. Lowri left the cottage, stomped across the yard and saddled a horse. Cullen and the lass would probably not even notice she had gone.
She headed for Larne with a dull ache in her chest. It was only when the sun was high in the sky, and she was riding into Larne, that she admitted to herself it was raging jealousy.
Down at the wharf, several small ships bobbed on the chop. Cullen had betrayed her, but the knowledge that Donnan and Rory were free made her free, too. She could take ship to Scotland and go home. The thought crashed in on her, filling her with dread when it should have filled her with hope. Yet she must do this. She must go home and leave Ireland and Cullen behind.
