Devil of the Highlands (6 page)

And so she had nodded rather than spoken her vows. She'd been terribly relieved to have it over and done with until Cullen had announced it was time to leave, and Edda had spoken up with her insistence they consummate before they leave. The woman was mad, of course; there was no way they could consummate it as she was.

Apparently, Cullen felt the same way, and snarled, "How are we to consummate it? The woman can not even move."

Edda didn't seem to see this as a problem. Unconcerned about pricking Cullen's temper—probably because his hands were hampered holding Evelinde upright—she said with amusement, "While I have been widowed two years, I do recall enough to know she need not move for it to be consummated. You need not even do more than lift her skirt to accomplish it if you do not wish."

"Lady d'Aumesbery!"

Evelinde recognized Father Saunders's shocked voice, but was more concerned by the way her husband had suddenly gone stiff against her. She suspected he was very angry, and his expression must have said so, because Edda sounded defensive as she added, " 'Tis not as if she will feel it, and I am merely pointing out that if he is in such a rush, he can accomplish the deed quickly."

Evelinde heard the low growl that rumbled in the chest next to her ear and felt the anger in the increased pressure on her side where his fingers held her. She suspected that in his fury the man was bruising her without meaning to, but only felt a very slight increase of pressure, not pain thanks to the tonic, and supposed one more bruise would not matter.

"What will it be, my lord?" Edda asked determinedly. "Do you consummate now or wait for her to recover enough and leave a day or so later?"

Cullen's answer was to shift Evelinde away from his chest to sweep her up into his arms and head for the stairs.

Evelinde supposed she should be horrified at the idea of what was to come, but she really wasn't all that sure what was coming. Everything had happened so quickly, Mildrede hadn't had the chance to tell her what to expect from her wedding night, and there had been no need ere this. Even if she had known what was coming, she didn't think she'd be afraid. The man had been nothing but gentle in his dealings with her until now, and she wasn't afraid of him. Evelinde was just rather resigned. She should have been prepared for Edda to make this as humiliating and uncomfortable as possible.

She would just have to lift her head and bear it one more time, Evelinde supposed. Not literally, of course; she simply wasn't physically capable of raising her head at the moment.

Cullen carried her above stairs and along the hall to her bedchamber, muttering under his breath the whole way. Clearly she was not the only one who found Edda trying.

He paused at her door, reached out with the hand under her legs to open it, then whirled back as Edda huffed her way up behind them.

"The bedding ceremony—"

"I hope, Madame, that ye doona intend to insist on witnessing the consummation," he growled in a warning tone.

Evelinde had no doubt Edda wanted to do exactly that. It would mean more humiliation for her to enjoy.

"I—" the woman began, but Cullen continued speaking.

"Because my temper is frayed, and I'd hate to hit a woman on me wedding day," he growled.

Evelinde really wished she could see her stepmother's face at that point. She was positive she heard her swallow thickly, and her voice certainly sounded shaken as she said, "Nay, of course not, my lord."

Cullen waited, and Evelinde could see the skirt of the woman's dress backing away. When it was out of sight, he turned to the men who had apparently followed Edda, and said, "Prepare the horses, we will be below in a trice."

A trice? Evelinde thought with dismay. He wasn't really going to just lift her skirt and…?

Cullen turned away and entered her chamber, then apparently kicked the door shut with his foot, because she heard it slam behind them. He then carried her to the bed. He stood there for a moment and Evelinde wished she could see his expression so she would have some idea of what he was thinking. Then, he turned away and carried her across the room to lay her on the fur in front of the fireplace. Cullen was very gentle about it, even bunching up the end of the fur to act as a cushion beneath her head. His gaze met hers briefly and he nodded, before straightening and walking away.

Evelinde was left wondering what the nod had meant. Was it supposed to have been reassuring? she wondered, following him with her eyes.

Cullen walked back to the bed, grabbed the linens and furs, and tugged them aside. Then he did something that just confused her: He slipped his sgian dubh from his waist, sliced himself on the arm, then rubbed his blood on the bed. He straightened then and moved back to her. Evelinde watched him approach, unsure what he was doing. She didn't worry, however, until he murmured an apology and reached for the hem of her skirt.

Evelinde's eyes widened as he eased her legs apart. She felt a very faint and brief pressure on her leg, and then he was tugging her skirt back into place and shifting to lift her into his arms again.

Cullen carried her back to the bed, set her on it right where the blood was, then paced briefly around the room. Evelinde followed him with her eyes as much as she could, but he suddenly moved to the corner where her open chests were and out of her sight. She heard him rustle about down there, but could see nothing, and eventually the strain of trying to turn her eyes so far began to make them ache, and she had to close them for a moment to ease the strain.

When she felt hands slipping under her body, she opened her eyes again as Cullen scooped her up. He then walked to the door, using the hand under her legs to open it, and shouted for Edda before turning away and moving back to stand by the bed with her in his arms.

" 'Tis done," he lied, as Evelinde heard several pairs of footsteps entering the room.

A moment of silence passed during which she presumed Edda was examining the bloodstain on the bed, then her stepmother said, "I want her examined."

"I have wasted enough time on this foolishness," Cullen snapped. "I'm no waiting for some pasty-faced—"

"I
will
have her examined," Edda insisted, and turned to the door. "Bet."

Evelinde would have bitten her lip at that point had she been able to. Bet had been her mother's maid and healer alongside her mother, much as Mildrede was for her. She hoped she might preserve Cullen's lie, but couldn't be sure. It would bring horrible punishments down on the old woman were she found out.

Cullen growled under his breath, bringing her eyes back to him as he turned back to lay her on the bed. He did not leave her alone. He stood grim and silent beside the bed. She heard Bet's slow, limping tread enter the room and then Edda and Bet came into her line of vision and approached the bed. Evelinde closed her eyes at that point. She just did not want to be there, though she was aware of it when her legs were pulled open.

A moment passed, then Bet said, " 'Tis done."

"You are sure?" Edda asked. " 'Twas very quick."

"You can see the blood on her thighs for yourself, my lady," Bet said with exasperation and Evelinde opened her eyes and met the wrinkled, old woman's gaze as she tugged her skirt back into place. She hoped the woman could read the gratitude in her eyes and thought she might have when Bet gave her a quick wink before turning away.

Evelinde now knew what Cullen had been doing under her skirt by the fur. He'd been clever enough to know Edda would subject her to all the humiliation she could and insist on her being examined. He must have rubbed some of the blood from his wound on her thighs to help convince Edda.

"Are you quite satisfied?" Cullen snapped.

"Aye. 'Tis well and truly done. You cannot return her." Edda beamed her satisfaction, then glanced down at Evelinde. "Farewell, stepdaughter. May your life be all that I hope for you."

Evelinde knew exactly what the woman hoped for her future and would have snorted at the words were she able. It was Cullen who did so as he picked her up. He then carried her out of the room.

They were down the stairs and out the front doors in a trice. One of his men was beside them the moment the door closed behind them, so Evelinde supposed he'd been waiting. Her husband spoke quickly to him in Gaelic as he carried her to his horse, then she found herself passed over to the man as her husband mounted. She was then passed back up to him once he was in the saddle. Cullen took a moment to arrange her in his lap, and they were off.

It all happened so fast Evelinde was left gasping. Where was Mildrede? And what of her things? Her gowns, the bits of her mother's jewelry her father had told her to hide so Edda would not steal them, the portrait of her mother, which had been hidden in her room ever since Edda's arrival at d'Aumesbery because she'd ordered it removed and destroyed. The portrait of her father that had been hidden there for the same reason after his death…

There were so many things she would not have left behind. However, Mildrede was the most important. And she'd hoped to be able to speak to her husband about possibly bringing Mac with them. He was a Scot and should have fit in at Donnachaidh, and she worried about leaving him behind with Edda. The woman would have to turn her frustration and anger on someone else now that Evelinde was no longer there to abuse, and Mac would be her most likely target.

But she had nothing. Evelinde did not even have a small bag with a change of clothes as far as she knew. She was going forth into her new life with nothing but the clothes on her back, she realized, and felt fear and anxiety claim her.

It was what every girl had to face when she reached marriageable age, and really Evelinde had been fortunate in not having to do so when much younger—as most girls had to. She would have, had fate not intervened. First, her betrothed drowned when he was twelve. Before her father had found a replacement for him, her mother had fallen ill, and his time had been taken up with worry over her. When Margaret d'Aumesbery had passed away, her father had put off finding Evelinde a husband, wishing to keep her close after losing the woman he hadn't known when he'd married but whom he'd soon grown to love. He'd finally begun searching for a husband for Evelinde just before the chest complaint had taken him.

Still, despite being older than most girls were when they started a new life with their husbands far away from everything and everyone they had ever known, Evelinde didn't think it was any easier. Her husband was a complete stranger, and her new home was a distant place she knew nothing about. It was all terribly scary.

Something else for her to lift her head and bear, she supposed. There seemed to be a lot of that in a female's life. Realizing she was making herself weepy and miserable, Evelinde closed her eyes and decided to try to sleep. There was little else she could do at this point.

"We're home."

Evelinde opened her eyes and glanced up at her husband. She then sat up a little straighter in his lap and followed his gaze to the dark castle towering ahead in the darkness. Trepidation immediately slithered through her.Truly, Donnachaidh was a grim and gloomy fortress cloaked in night as it was, she decided, as Cullen urged his mount up the hill toward the gates. Evelinde settled back against his chest and rubbed her hands over her face, trying to wake up properly. She'd nodded on and off through most of the three-day journey. Not because of Mildrede's tonic, but just because it was long and monotonous and seemingly without end. The first time she'd woken was the morning after they left d'Aumesbery. She'd been stirred from sleep to find most of the effects of the tonic gone. It had been a relief since it had been a burning need to relieve herself that had dragged her awake. Wouldn't that have been embarrassing had she still not had control of her muscles?

Cullen had only stopped long enough for her to take care of business, then had hurried her back to his horse.

He'd set her in the saddle, mounted behind her, and they were off again. A few moments later, he'd retrieved an apple, some cheese, and bread from a bag hanging from his horse and offered it to her. It was then Evelinde had realized they would not be stopping except to take care of personal needs.

They'd ridden through the day, traveling at a speed that didn't allow for conversation unless she wished to risk biting off her own tongue. The only other stops they'd made had been to change horses once a day.

Evelinde would have liked to ask why they were in such a rush. She would have liked to ask where the rest of his men were, too. She hadn't realized it when they'd first left d'Aumesbery, but once she'd been able to lift her head and look around, it was to see that their party was made up of herself, Cullen, and a man named Fergus. The other four men were not with them. But Evelinde had feared did she open her mouth, the first question to pop out would be to ask how he could carry her away from d'Aumesbery without her maid, her mare, and her belongings. Not wishing to start the marriage on a note of strife, she'd kept her mouth shut, remaining as silent as her husband was.

Evelinde glanced curiously around as they entered the bailey of her new home. Due to the hour there was little activity and even less to be seen in the darkness covering everything. All she could make out were shapes and shadows.

Giving up on trying to examine her new home in this light, Evelinde settled against her husband with a little sigh and waited impatiently to be able to get off the horse. Truly, Evelinde had never wanted anything in her life as badly as she wished to get off his mount at that moment. She'd never left d'Aumesbery ere this and hadn't realized how uncomfortable, wearying, and just plain boring travel could be. She sincerely hoped she'd not have to travel again for the rest of her life.

Cullen drew his horse to a halt at the foot of the stairs leading up to the keep. He slipped off the back of his mount and reached up to lift her down before she could stir herself to follow. Evelinde clasped his hands anxiously once he set her on her feet, waiting for her legs to find their footing once more. As they had the few times they'd stopped on the journey, her legs were weak and sore and threatening to buckle under her. But as they had also done each time, they soon regained their strength and agreed to hold her weight.

Cullen usually gave her the time to recover so she might walk under her own steam, but this time he simply scooped her up and carried her up the stairs to the keep.

Glancing over his shoulder, Evelinde saw Fergus leading Cullen's mount away to the stables and supposed the stable master at Donnachaidh had already retired for the night.

The great hall was dark and silent when they entered, but certainly not empty. By the light of the fire in the hearth, Evelinde could see that every bit of space on the floor appeared to be taken up with sleeping bodies.

Male and female, old and young, they filled the floor sleeping side by side, leaving just a path from the doors to the stairs and another from the doors to another smaller door she presumed was the kitchens.

When Cullen carried her to the stairs, Evelinde found herself clutching nervously at his shoulders as they ascended into darkness, leaving the weak light from the dying fire behind. Her husband apparently had no need of light, however. His steps were confident as he carried her along a landing that left her blinking owlishly at the darkness surrounding them.

"Open it."

Evelinde reached out blindly and felt a wooden panel she assumed to be a door. She found the lever, pushed the door gently open, and Cullen carried her inside. He set her down on a soft surface she presumed was a bed, then moved away. She wasn't sure where he'd gone until she heard the soft click of the door closing.

Evelinde followed the sound of his returning and moving around the room to the opposite side of the bed.

There was a soft thump of something hitting the floor, the jangle of his removing his sword and belt, then a soft whoosh followed by a rustle she suspected was his plaid landing on the rushes. Then she felt the bed depress as he climbed in the opposite side.

"Sleep."

The soft order was followed by silence, but Evelinde simply sat where he'd placed her. She'd spent a good deal of time worrying about her arrival at her new home during the journey here. She'd worried about what her new people would think of her, about whether they'd accept her. She'd fretted that she'd arrive looking less than her best after three days and nights in the saddle. She felt that first impressions were important, and she'd also been concerned about what her husband would expect, fearing he might wish to consummate their marriage the night they arrived.

Apparently, all her worry had been for naught. Her new people had slept through her arrival, and her husband definitely had no interest in bedding his new bride. The man was already snoring next to her.

Evelinde shook her head with a little sigh and lay back fully clothed on the bed he'd set her on. Really, she should have realized he'd be interested in nothing but sleeping on arrival. While she had slept quite a bit the last three days despite the jolting ride, he and Fergus had not slept at all. The two men had traveled a bit more slowly through the night, but both had remained awake the two nights and three days of the journey. In truth, she was amazed her husband had maintained the energy to carry her up here to what must be his room.

She supposed now she just had a whole day more of fretting over the bedding to come. Meeting her people, however, would happen the moment she awoke, Evelinde thought and closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep to the sound of her husband's soft snores.

"What are ye doing, Mogg! Ye blethering—Ye'll drop the damned tub do ye no watch where yer going. Stop staring at the lass and pay attention!"

Evelinde opened her eyes at that exclamation, then sat up abruptly on the bed to stare with confusion at the crowd of women moving about in the space between the foot of the bed and the fireplace in the far wall. At first, she was completely befuddled as to where she was.
This wasn't her room at d'Aumesbery
was the only thing rattling through her poor, sleep-muddled brain, but then she shifted on the bed and gasped as pain radiated through her hips, and she recalled the events of the last few days.

She was at Donnachaidh, Evelinde recalled, and presumably in her husband's chamber. Hers now, too, Evelinde supposed, glancing curiously around. The room was twice the size of her chamber at d'Aumesbery.

The bed she lay in was also twice as big as her own had been. Two plain wooden tables stood, one on each side of the bed. The one on the far side held an unlit candle, the one beside her held a mug of what looked to be mead.

Evelinde peered at it curiously, then turned her attention to the rest of the room. A large open space sat between the foot of the bed and the far wall. It was a nice spot for a couple of chairs and perhaps a small table, a place where the lord and lady, she and Cullen, might relax on a night. However, there was nothing there at the moment but a tub and several female servants rushing about pouring in pails of steaming water.

"She's awake," one of the women announced, flashing her a wide smile.

Evelinde found herself unable to resist smiling back, then glanced to the plump little woman, who glanced around and suddenly broke from the group to rush to her side.

"Oh, yer awake, lass," the woman greeted her with a smile as she grabbed up the mug of what Evelinde had thought might be mead and turned to offer it to her. "I've brought ye some honey mead, and we're preparing a bath fer ye. Cullen said ye'd be wanting one."

Evelinde stared at the woman blankly for a moment, slow to decipher her thick Scottish burr and understand what she said. While her husband had a definite accent as well, his words were so few she had no problem understanding him. However this woman had rattled on so quickly, it took her mind a moment to comprehend the meaning behind what she said. Finally, thinking she'd grasped their meaning, Evelinde reached for the offered drink, murmuring, "Thank you…?"

"Elizabeth Duncan, but you can call me Biddy, lass. Everyone does," the woman answered the silent question. Clasping her hands before her skirt, she beamed at her expectantly. "Mairghread makes the finest honey mead in Scotland. I'm sure ye'll agree."

Evelinde raised the mug to her lips and sipped as she deciphered the words. Once she thought she knew what the woman had said, she let her gaze skate to the servants milling about at the foot of the bed. It appeared the task of filling the tub was finished, the women were staring at her with unabashed curiosity while edging closer to the bed like a litter of shy puppies.

Evelinde smiled at them all a trifle shyly herself as she lowered the mug, then pronounced, "I believe you may be right, Biddy. 'Tis indeed fine honey mead."

Biddy beamed at her, then glanced to the people at the foot of the bed as one of them bumped against an empty pail, sending it toppling on the rushes.

"Well? What are ye waiting fer? If yer done, be off with ye. Ye've all things to do," Biddy said, though her tone of voice was not as angry as her words would have suggested. She sounded more exasperated than annoyed with the group. She watched them out the door before turning back to Evelinde, to say, "They're all loves, lass, but ye need to be firm else they'll get nothing done."

Evelinde merely nodded, still feeling disoriented.

"I shall leave ye to yer bath then, I—Oh!" Biddy had moved toward the door as she spoke, but paused when she glanced back, a small frown curving her lips. "I've sent them all off, and ye need help undressing." She hesitated, glancing toward the door and back, then clucked her tongue and returned to her side. "I guess I shall have to help ye."

"Oh, no, that's all right—" Evelinde began, but then paused as she shifted her legs off the bed and the small movement made pain shoot through her from hip to knee. Sighing, she managed a smile and nodded. "Aye, I would appreciate help if you do not mind."

"Not at all," the woman assured her, concern now in her eyes. " 'Tis a long ride, and Cullen said he rode straight through. No doubt yer feeling it now. Do ye need help standing up?"

"No, I think I can…" Evelinde let the words trail away as she got to her feet. She sucked in a breath at the pain that caused, but her legs held her up without trembling for the first time in what seemed like days.

Assuring herself that was a good sign and hopeful she would mend quickly now she was no longer sitting in one position on a horse's back for hours on end, Evelinde let out a slow breath and offered a grateful smile as Biddy set to work at helping her undress.

"Dear God in heaven, lass," Biddy breathed once the gown and chemise were off. Walking around her slowly, she examined the bruises. They were an unattractive mixture of purple, blue, and black. Evelinde hoped that meant they were starting to fade, but they still looked ugly.

"What did ye do to gain these?" the maid asked, shaking her head.

"Cullen did not do it," Evelinde said at once, used to everyone assuming he had. "I fell in the river."

"O' course he didna do it," Biddy said with a laugh that suggested the very idea was ridiculous, then she sobered, and said solemnly, "Pay no mind to those tales about the lad. He's no Devil, but a good man like his da before him. He's got a good heart. He'd no hit a woman."

Evelinde relaxed with a little sigh. Despite her lack of fear of the man who was now her husband, and her own instincts prior to this telling her he was a good man, it was nice to have someone else verify it.

"I've a special salve. I'll fetch it after yer bath and rub it into yer sore spots and ye'll be right as rain in no time," Biddy assured her as she urged her into the tub.

This, too, was bigger than the tub at d'Aumesbery, Evelinde noted as she relaxed in the water.

"Where is my husband?" Evelinde asked, as Biddy moved back to collect her gown and chemise from the floor.

"Out with the men, checking on things," Biddy answered. "He's a hard worker, is our Cullen. A good man and a good leader. The clan is lucky to have him." Her mouth firmed, and she added, " 'Tis just a shame they've no the sense to ken it."

Evelinde raised her eyebrows curiously at the word. "Are his people not happy with him?"

"Oh." She waved one hand with exasperation, then continued her folding as she said," 'Tis just that half of them believe those nonsense rumors about his father, uncle, and wife, and think he should step down. They forget that we've enjoyed peace and prosperity since he became the laird."