‘Foolish, ungrateful lass. Well, this Donald fellow will not take miss high and mighty now she has been sullied by that filthy swine,’ said Connie. ‘Though there’s ways of pretending to be innocent in the marriage bed, when you are not.’
‘Are there?’ said Lowri to Connie, glancing at Cullen.
He just shrugged and said, ‘I don’t know much about that, but we have to go and meet Donald, seeing as he’s sailed all the way up from Cork on account of our letter.’
‘Cullen, he might not be on that ship,’ said Lowri.
‘Well, I dearly hope he is, for I want done with that lass, and this mess.’
His tone was snappy, and Lowri tried not to think it was because he held some lingering jealousy that a lass as lovely as Briony had chosen Butcher.
‘If I were you, I’d stay well out of it,’ said Connie. ‘That lass is nought but trouble, and I don’t trust that pretty face one inch. Mark my words, there’s nought but mischief in going to Larne, and you’d do better staying abed and getting up to other kinds of mischief.’ Connie walked out, tutting her disapproval.
Cullen took Lowri in his arms. ‘I would love to stay in bed with you, but I’ll go and saddle the horses. We must get this behind us, my love.’
Lowri watched him go. Her heart leapt at his words. ‘My love,’ he’d said. She hoped it was not because of the delicious, wicked things her body had done to his last night, for Lowri had already fallen hard for Cullen Macaulay. He had her heart and loyalty, and she had become his slave, something she never wanted to be.
***
The wind battered the shoreline, snatching Cullen’s breath from his lungs as he and Lowri reached the ship in the harbour. Two men were disembarking. One was stocky and well-dressed, the other, squat and dishevelled, and bearing the weary resignation of a servant.
The stocky one looked a little green about the gills as he surveyed his surroundings in dismay. He had icy blue eyes, startling in his pallid face, and a paunch overhanging his braies. His brown hair was raked over a balding head, and the wind tookit, flapping it over his face. He smoothed it back down as they approached, and Cullen’s mood sank. This man would never set a young woman’s heart on fire like the dark, sensual Butcher.
‘Are you Donald Drummond?’ said Cullen.
‘Who is asking?’ The man looked down his nose at him.
‘My name is Cullen Macaulay, and this is my wife, Lowri. We sent word of Briony’s rescue.’
Drummond looked from Cullen to Lowri, eyes lingering on her disapprovingly. ‘She has been staying with you?’ he said.
‘Aye.’
‘And where is Briony?’
‘She will be along presently,’ said Lowri, but the man seemed not to hear her. Instead, he snapped at his servant, ‘Murphy, go and see if you can find us decent lodgings. I’ll not meet my bride out here in this infernal wind.’
‘This place does not offer much, according to the Captain,’ said the servant, eyeing them suspiciously. ‘Perhaps the ship is a better place to stay, Master.’
‘I’d scoop out my own innards before getting back on that floating cesspit.’
‘There is an inn next to the church, up that hill,’ said Cullen, pointing.
Drummond clicked his fingers and waved a hand, and Murphy jumped to his master’s command and hurried off towards the inn.
‘It is a simple place, but decent, and clean enough,’ offered Cullen.
‘I very much doubt that,’ said Donald Drummond, as if he were in dire peril from catching a pestilence from such a place. ‘I thank you for your service to Briony. She was lucky, you were there when the ship went down,’ he added, narrowing his eyes.
Cullen felt more under suspicion than thanked.
‘I suppose you will want a reward for rescuing my betrothed,’ continued the arrogant oaf.
Cullen gave the man an icy smile. ‘No. My reward is to send her on her way with my best wishes for her health and happiness.’
‘And not a moment too soon. I have grave misgivings about my betrothed living in such a wild place.’ Drummond shuddered. ‘The harm that might have come to her.’
‘Harm?’ said Cullen, stepping closer, looming over Donald.
