Devil of the Highlands Page 0,24

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