Cullen nodded. "Welcome to the family."
His voice was gruff. She deserved it for being so haughty. Regret pierced her as he walked toward his own horse. She had regret for so many things that weren't in her power to change. Everything about where she found herself was frustrating. She'd heard a lot of sermons on kindness being the key to unlocking good solutions, but today she was hard-pressed to figure a way to deal with her dilemma in a Christian way.
There was nothing virtuous about her position. It was steeped in sin and the stain was smearing with each word she spoke. Philipa had truly poisoned herself with hatred because no woman with a heart could send someone into such a situation.
But being correct didn't help her. All of her reasoning and justifications of being the victim failed to fend off the guilt chewing on her. Truly, speaking to the saints was unlikely to bring her any help. Not when she considered that all of those holy figures had martyred themselves rather than act unchristian.
Even knowing that didn't open her lips. She kept them sealed and sat, firmly resolved to play her assigned role as the earl motioned them forward.
Her counterfeit role.
Chapter Four
The earl didn't call a halt to their travel until the sun was almost gone. Only a pink stain colored the horizon when his hand rose and the horses all stopped. His men seemed to know exactly what his gesture meant because they dismounted and began making camp.
The spot he'd chosen was sheltered in trees, their branches forming a camouflage of sorts. There were few leaves on them but several large boulders rose up out of the earth to join them. One rock was smudged with dark black soot. Two of the retainers set about building a small fire in the same spot, while another couple of men gathered up the horses. They removed the bits from the mouths of their mounts, but made sure each bridle was secure. They knotted a length of rope to each bridle draping several feet between each horse to keep them from wandering apart during the night. One man climbed up onto the rock outcroppings, propping his back against some of the tree branches. He pulled his sword from its scabbard and propped it against one thigh.
The rest of the men talked in low voices but she couldn't miss the lightness of their tones. There was also the distinct Scottish sound to their words. Loneliness clamped around her like a steel vise, tightening with each foreign detail she noticed. With a sigh she turned and walked toward the river. She could hear the water rushing and babbling but it wasn't in sight. She had to walk over a rise and the water was below her. Paying close attention to her footing, she made her way down the slope. The wine skin hadn't been filled with sweet wine but water. Still it had been welcome as her lips dried out in the winter air. Propping a foot on a rock, she was mindful to toss her skirts over her thigh before leaning down to refill the skin. The night air brushed her bare skin above the edge of the knitted stocking, raising gooseflesh. Once full, she straightened up, placing both feet firmly back on the bank. Giving the top a twist she secured it before looking up.
She gasped as she came face to face with the earl. He was only two feet behind her, his huge body impossibly large. She jumped away from him without considering how close the river was. Her heels sank into the moist soil, the wine skin dropping into the mud as she tottered off balance.
His hand snaked out, capturing her wrist. Warm, hard fingers curled around her limb, jerking her away from the river. She slammed into his chest, unsure if she wouldn't have preferred the cold water behind her. Her eyes widened as his arm slid right around her back, securing her in place.
"Are ye actually intent on running off into the night?"
There was no mistaking the anger that colored his voice. He frowned at her, distrust etched into his face.
"I simply wanted to refill the skin."
He snorted at her. "And ye just did that little chore without telling anyone where ye were going. Slipping off into the darkness quiet as may be."
"I certainly didn't think of it like that."
But she should have. It was another error. Mary would have sent someone to fill the skin, never mind that there were the horses to tend to.
"I'd appreciate ye staying with my men. We don't need to be fetching ye away from the men of any other clans that stumble upon ye without escort. If ye've no care for the harm they might do ye, have a bit of concern for the blood that will be spilt when we have to fight to take ye back."
Her mouth formed a little round expression of horror. "I want no one fighting over me."
His face was as serious as an executioner. "Be very sure of that. I dinnae let anyone take what is mine, madam. Run away and I'll fetch ye back."
His words were as hard and unrelenting as the arm binding her to him.
"I wasn't fleeing."
He snorted, clearly doubting her. Anne snapped her lips shut because her temper was rising. Labeling him a presumptuous clod wouldn't help matters. However, she could at least take solace in the fact that insulting him was definitely something Mary would have done. His lips pressed tightly together as she failed to answer.
"Are ye ever going to take that thing off yer head? I thought it was against the law to be a nun in England."
Anne raised her chin to find the earl frowning at her again. His eyes were a darker blue than his brother's.
Midnight eyes …
She shivered, a chill shooting down her spine. His eyes narrowed as the hand pressing across her back felt the ripple of reaction. Heat bled across her cheeks once again as she inhaled the scent of his skin. Her belly suddenly tightened with the oddest sensation. With a hard shove she tried to escape from his hold.
He scoffed at her. A soft sound of male disgruntlement. "Since ye've been at court, I don't see the need for feigning innocence, Mary. I'm nae the first man that's held you."
Her eyes widened as he retained his hold. His arm was like steel, binding her to his body.
How presumptuous. "I pretend nothing, sir."
His gaze narrowed once more. A moment later her French hood was tugged off her head, pulling her hair as he plucked it free. He studied her face for a long moment before releasing her.
"I'll be the judge of that matter myself."
One foot plunged into the mud as she placed distance between them. A flicker of amusement entered his eyes as he stood blocking her path, using the river and his larger size to keep her at his mercy.
"If ye've become accustomed to loose morals at yer English court, best ye ken that I will not be shamed."
Her chin lifted, no amount of better judgment interfering. "You've made yourself clear."
She pushed past him, uncaring of how close she was to his body anymore. There were very few things she had the right to call her own, but she wasn't a lightskirt.
"Good." Command edged his voice. He followed her up the bank. "It pleases me to find yer face beneath that veil instead of a courtesan's, all covered in paint."
He reached out, stroking a finger over one of her cheeks. "Aye, I am pleased."
She shivered again, this time in some odd response to the way his tone had softened. He was no longer angry with her.
Anne turned quickly to hide the strange reaction from his keen stare. Her face was hot where he'd touched it, the skin oddly alive with sensation. There was a part of her that liked hearing that he approved of her. A man such as he was far above any that she might hope to have of her own.
"Face me, Mary."
Hearing her half-sister's name was like icy water being tossed onto her feet. She turned slowly, struggling to conceal her emotions before facing him once more. This man would not take being deceived very well. Now that her face veil was gone, she needed to be more attentive to concealing her feelings.
"I've no taste for timid women."
The gruff tone of his voice annoyed her once again. "You may always return me home." She looked at the ground, doing her best to look like a coward. For one brief moment hope flickered in her heart that he might reject her.
"You should take me to my father. He is returned to court."
A hard hand cupped her chin, raising it to lock stares with him. "It's clear you've been at court. That place is ripe with schemes." His lips lost their hard line as he stepped up closer holding her jaw in a firm grip. "Do I really look like a man who would cry surrender so soon after greeting ye?" He chuckled, the sound sending a quiver through her belly. His warm scent filled her head with each breath as he tilted his head so that his breath teased her lips.
"You dinnae know very much about Scotsmen, Wife. We're nae intimidated by a few cold glances. In Scotland, we're more practiced in the arts of warming up our women."
He touched his mouth to hers and she jerked away from the contact. It burned clear through her, all the way to her toes. Her freedom was short-lived. With a twist of his larger body, he snaked an arm around her waist. He moved toward her in the same moment, surrounding her and pinning her against his hard body.