Devil of the Highlands Page 0,14

not risk the woman bringing an end to this betrothal, only to marry her off to someone she was afraid of, or whom she would find sharing a bed with to be thoroughly repulsive, because Evelinde was quite sure she would not have that problem with this man. He had already stirred passions in her she hadn't known existed.

No, Evelinde decided, she would allow Edda and everyone else to think the worst… and marry this man.

When Cullen reined in his mount and slid off the back of the horse, Evelinde immediately started to slide off unaided, but he was there to catch her by the waist before her feet hit the dirt. Their eyes met briefly as he set her gently on the ground, and she almost smiled her thanks, but then she remembered Edda and glowered instead. She saw surprise flash through his eyes and nearly blurted an apology, but caught it back and instead murmured, "Forgive me, my lord, for what is about to take place. I shall explain later. Just, pray, be the Devil of Donnachaidh as you were with Mac."

Much to her relief, he didn't demand an explanation. One eyebrow merely arched slightly on his forehead, but that was the only reaction he showed.

She turned to walk forward, her steps slow and a bit rigid as her bruising began to pain her. Stiffness was setting in, she realized with a grimace. No doubt it would only worsen in the coming hours.

Her gaze slid to Edda to see the woman was almost in the throes of ecstasy as she watched her approach. Hiding the disgust she felt, Evelinde forced her face to remain solemn and emotionless and paused before her. She wasn't surprised when Edda ignored her altogether and instead turned a wide, approving smile on Cullen.

"Laird Donnachaidh," Edda greeted. "I see you have met our Evelinde. I do hope you are pleased with the betrothal."

"Aye," Cullen grunted, and Evelinde noted the way his eyes shifted to his men in question. Each met his gaze in turn and some silent message seemed to pass between them. Evelinde couldn't read what the message was but suspected it had something to do with Edda.

"Good, good." Her stepmother smiled widely, then quickly tempered the smile to hide her teeth and slid her arm through his to turn him toward the door to the keep. "I should tell you I am the one who chose you to marry our Evelinde, and I admire a man who begins as he means to go on. You need not spare the girl. Beat her as often as you wish. She is healthy and strong and can withstand much. In fact, she is so strong I often wonder if there is not peasant stock somewhere in her ancestry." She ended the little insult with a laugh that faded uncertainly as she tried to lead Cullen to the door of the keep only to find he didn't move.

"Yer priest," Cullen growled when she turned a confused expression up to his face.

Her eyebrows rose. "Father Saunders?"

"Fetch him. We wed and we leave."

"So soon? I—You—" Edda paused, then, apparently deciding she liked the idea of ridding herself of Evelinde so quickly, her wide smile returned. "I shall send for him at once."

Cullen gave a curt nod, caught Evelinde by the arm, and urged her past Edda to enter the keep.

Evelinde bit her lip on the protest that she couldn't possibly be ready to go so quickly. Instead, she tried to think how she could manage to get all her things packed and ready to go in such a short time. The idea of leaving d'Aumesbery was both a painful prospect and a pleasure to contemplate. There were many here she would miss. She had grown up with these people and was now leaving them behind. The idea of being free of Edda, however, was a pleasant one, Evelinde thought, as Cullen left her at the bottom of the stairs and she started up them.

It wasn't until she started up those steps that she realized how much of a problem her injuries were going to be. While walking raised aches and complaints, lifting her legs to mount the stairs made her suck in her breath as pain shot from hip to knee. Oh yes, traveling was going to be most unpleasant, she thought with a sigh.

Gritting her teeth, Evelinde forced herself to ignore the pain and continue upward, telling herself it would pass. A day or two and she