Devil of the Highlands Page 0,49

added, "And your parents' portraits."

Evelinde felt tears well in her eyes and quickly dashed them away as she turned to offer her husband a small smile.

"Thank you," she murmured with heartfelt gratitude.

He grunted.

Evelinde frowned, her gaze sweeping back to the wagon. She shook her head as she recalled how upset she'd been when she thought she'd never see these things again. In truth, though, she would have given them all up to have Mildrede and Mac with her, but it seemed she'd lost neither her dear maid and friend nor her things. All her upset and depression had been for naught.

"Why did you not tell me they were coming?" Evelinde asked with bewilderment. Had he done so the last few days would not have been so dark and gloomy for her. She would have been able to enjoy the anticipation of their arrival as a much-needed bright spot in her day.

Cullen shrugged. "Ye assumed I would no see yer things brought, so I left ye to believe what ye wished."

"What I wished?" Evelinde asked with disbelief, anger stirring in her. "You think I wished to don your dead wife's gown and make a complete cake of myself in front of our neighbors because I thought I had naught but the clothes I rode here in? You think I wished to weep at night because I thought everyone I loved was lost to me? You think I wished I thought I had lost every tie and reminder of my family?"

"Weep?" he asked, zeroing on the word with a frown. "When did you weep?"

"While you slept," Evelinde snapped, feeling embarrassment color her cheeks as she admitted it. She wasn't the only one embarrassed. His men and Mac were all exchanging panicked glances and looking terribly uncomfortable, though Mildrede was looking upset on her behalf rather than embarrassed. Evelinde wasn't surprised when the woman moved to stand behind her in her usual show of support.

"Hmm," Mac muttered suddenly. "Well, guess we should start unloading this wagon." Grabbing Mildrede by the arm, he dragged her to the wagon. Evelinde heard Mildrede hiss at him to let her alone, but he muttered back that she was best not to get between Evelinde and Cullen, then shoved a cushion at her and grabbed a chair himself before directing her toward the stairs. The rest of the men were snatching up items left and right and hurrying after the pair, fleeing the field of battle, Evelinde realized.

"Well, there was no need for crying," Cullen said with a scowl, as the last of the group disappeared into the keep. "If ye had just trusted me to tend to matters as it is my place to do, ye'd have realized I'd see to yer wellbeing. And," he added with a frown, "ye've no lost all ties to yer family. I am yer family now."

"Family? You?" she asked with amazement. "Nay, my lord. You are a complete stranger to me. And why should I trust a stranger to do what is best for me when my own stepmother—who was not a stranger—would not?"

"I am no a stranger," Cullen said impatiently. "I'm yer husband."

"You may be my husband, my lord, but a couple of head flops in front of a priest does not change the fact that you are a stranger," Evelinde said grimly, then pointed out, "I know nothing about you. While I have told you everything I can think of about myself, you have shared nothing in return. I know Scatchy better than I know you, and all I know about him is that he likes pasties. I have no idea what you like or dislike, except perhaps that you do not like me."

Cullen stilled in surprise, then looked irritated. "What the devil would make ye think I doona like you?"

"Oh, I do not know," she snapped, as a now-empty-handed Mac started back out of the keep followed by the other men. "Perhaps because you have not touched me or more than grunted at me since consummating our marriage."

The men on the stairs stopped abruptly and turned to head back into the keep without Cullen ever seeing them, Evelinde noted, as her husband's mouth opened and closed twice without issuing a word.

Finally, he glared and snapped, "I was being considerate."

"Considerate?" she asked with disbelief.

"Aye. I didna wish to pain yer bruises. I thought to let them heal more ere bothering you again."

Evelinde was too upset at this point to appreciate the thoughtfulness of the gesture. If it was true,