Devil of the Highlands Page 0,13

to her a man like that should look cruel and heartless. He should inspire fear in a body the moment one laid eyes on him, and he shouldn't be able to stir the concern and passion in her that Evelinde had experienced back in the clearing.

That was only one of her worries, however. The other was that she feared—after her wanton behavior in the clearing—the man might think her free with her affections. And she hadn't even known he was her betrothed. Did he think she was not just wanton but also the sort of woman who would be unfaithful? Because she had been unfaithful. Perhaps not technically since it turned out he was the man she was to marry, but Evelinde hadn't known that when she was letting him kiss her so passionately and do those other things, and now she was ashamed of herself and afraid of what he thought of her.

Cullen's thumb suddenly brushed across the bottom of her breast, distracting Evelinde again. Glancing up, she noted they had arrived back at d'Aumesbery and were crossing the drawbridge. Her gaze lifted to the men on the wall, and she frowned as she noted how silent they were and how grim their expressions. Obviously, they had noted her condition and were thinking the worst.

Feeling herself blush with embarrassment, Evelinde bit her lip on the instinct to shout out that she hadn't been raped and merely turned her face forward as they passed into the bailey.

Edda was waiting for them at the doors of the keep as they crossed the bailey. Five rugged-looking men in plaids stood around her.

"Your men?" Evelinde asked, her gaze sliding over them. Each and every one towered over Edda, and Edda was not short. Her stepmother stood at least four inches taller than she, so it seemed obvious they were all good-sized men. They stood with arms crossed over their chests and grim expressions on their faces. They didn't look particularly pleased to be there.

Edda, on the other hand, looked like the cat who found the cream. Her smile widened with every step Cullen's mount took as she was better able to see the state her stepdaughter was in.

Evelinde had no doubt the woman was coming to the same conclusions that Mac had, only her stepmother was apparently enjoying these conclusions. She wasn't really surprised. Edda had never liked her and had made no bones about letting her know it. No doubt she'd convinced the king to choose the Devil of Donnachaidh as Evelinde's betrothed in the hopes of ensuring her a miserable future. In fact, she suspected Edda would probably be most upset to know what had really happened. If the odious woman thought for one moment that Evelinde had gained her bruises—not from this man—but in a fall in the river, or that the Duncan had but kissed her and—worse yet—that she'd enjoyed his kisses and caresses, Edda might very well find some way to end this betrothal.

That thought gave Evelinde pause. When she'd ridden out of the bailey the idea of finding a way to end her betrothal to the Devil of Donnachaidh would have been a welcome one. Was it still?

She twisted to look at the man behind her. Cullen's chin was high, his eyes on the people on the stairs, his expression as grim as those of the men they were approaching… but she recalled the soft words of praise he'd given his horse and the affectionate pat he'd offered the animal. His kisses had been passionate and yet not roughly so, while his caresses and touch had been gentle. And when she'd begun to struggle, he'd released her at once, even though, as her betrothed, he really needn't have. He had also handled her gently when he'd lifted her onto her mount, and again when he'd lifted her from her mount to join him on his own horse on the return journey.

All of this made Evelinde wonder now how many of the terrible tales about him were simply that: tales. People assuming they knew what happened and he allowing them to do so.

It was little enough to go on, but more than she'd known before their meeting in the meadow.

Evelinde wasn't yet sure of much about this man, but she was sure about one thing. She was not afraid of him. Her instincts were telling her she was safe in his hands.

It made her positive she did not wish Edda finding out the truth of things. She would