‘So, if she has asked for it, then it must be bad,’ he continued, his voice a hoarse growl. ‘I have a mind to take you with me so that I may show off my beautiful new bride.’ He reached out and picked at her petticoat, rubbing the fabric between his finger and thumb. ‘This is fine stuff. Is it new?’
‘Yes.’ Tara swallowed hard. ‘I…I thought you might like it.’
Callum’s jaw worked, and he glugged more whisky and gave a bitter laugh. ‘You thought wrong.’
This cold, cruel Callum was a stranger to her. ‘There is blood on your hands,’ she said in a rush.
‘Aye, villains’ blood. Lots of it.’
Tara’s breath caught a little. ‘So you caught up with those reivers.’
‘Seems like it,’ he snarled.
‘I will not ask what you did to the men you caught.’
‘No, you will not ask, and I will not tell. Suffice to say, I did what I had to do to protect my Clan and the farmers and poor folk who live in these lonely glens. They are defenceless, and I am their protector, as I am yours too. Much good it has done me.’ His lip curled to a sneer.
‘Callum, I think you are drunk, and you are being unkind.’
‘Not nearly drunk enough for what I have seen and done this night, lass. If I was, I might do something ruinous to us both.’ He held out the bottle. ‘A wee dram, Tara, to warm you a little, for God knows, I can’t.’
‘No,’ she spat. ‘I think it best I leave you to your anger and your whisky.’
As she walked away, Callum called out. ‘Do you think that I kill easily, Tara? Do you think I have no conscience about it?’
‘I do not know, Callum, but I see that it presses on you.’
‘Aye, it does. So can you not comfort me, lass, offer me something to take my mind off my woes?’ He narrowed his eyes, and Tara’s heart thumped harder.
‘I am going to bed, Callum, and so should you.’
There was a scrape of a chair as she walked away. ‘Not alone, you’re not,’ he shouted.
In an instant, he was upon her, grasping her wrist. Tara struggled in vain as Callum pulled her over to his bed. The back of her knees hit the side with some force, sparking anger, and Tara fought back.
‘No, Callum. You are drunk.’
‘Not too drunk, not nearly drunk enough for the feelings I am trying to banish.’
‘You are being horrible, and I will not lie with you.’
‘Oh yes, you will,’ he growled. ‘I am in a hell of my own making, so I may as well burn in its flames.’
Callum bent his head to her neck and kissed its nape, pulling Tara close. She smelled wet wool and blood, his cheek ice-cold against her neck.
‘No, Callum. Stop.’
‘Why should I?’ he murmured against her neck.
‘Because I say so.’ She pushed at him with all her might. ‘You cannot force yourself on me, Callum, like some lout.’
‘Aye, and that is what you truly think, isn’t it?’
‘Callum, please. If a woman spurns a man, he foregoes the marriage bed. It is what a gentleman does in England.’
He took Tara’s cheeks in his hands and glowered into her face. ‘Well, it is not what a lout does in Scotland, and that is what I am, by your own words. So if I want you, I will have you, cold bitch or not.’
Callum pushed her back onto the mattress, and his mouth came down hard on Tara’s, drowning her protests as his hands tore off her plaid and pulled down her petticoat, ripping it in his haste. Her feeble attempts to stop him exhausted her and seemed only to spur Callum on. Soon, she was helpless, trapped and half-naked, so Tara stopped her struggles and lay still.