Bride of Vengeance (Highland Romance Series Book 1) Page 3

  “Aye,” Nathanial gazed back towards Lydia. “It is.”

  ****

  Lydia was drowning. She was in the middle of the ocean, all alone. Hadn’t that been the way she wanted it? She wanted to be all alone. Not like this. As the tide pulled Lydia further and further from the shore, she struggled for life. The fever had complete control of her body and mind. As she slept, she fought for her life. Lydia had no idea how long she’d been struggling, with the waves pulled her deep under the water. Just when she thought she was going to die, she would resurface and the mad cycle would start again for her. This couldn’t be the way she died, could it?

  Days into the suffering, a miracle happened. In the distance appeared a giant rock in the water. Lydia swam to it. And, though it felt like an eternity later, she finally was able to grip it and hold on for dear life. As the waves crashed down on her, threatening to take her down, she clung to this glorious creation and prayed. She was not going to die like this. She was going to cling onto this rock for survival.

  ****

  Nathanial was that rock. Two days into her fever, Nathanial laid down in bed beside her, trying to bring her body heat up so she could sweat out her fever, much to Teresa’s dismay. He took his upper plaid off and scooped Lydia into his arms. She lay motionless for hours. As Nathanial closed his eyes to go to sleep that night, he felt her grip on him tighten, and she never let go. God, she had a grip on her. The bruises on his arms and back would attest to it for many days after. And heaven intercept when he had to get out of bed for a few hours a day. She did not handle it well. She would stammer and fidget in her sleep. Even if Lydia woke up in the morning hating him, Nathanial would know how deeply she needed him in her moment of weakness. For some reason that meant something to him.

  It was the fourth night into her sickness when things took a new turn, and a very interesting turn it was. Lydia had woken up earlier in the morning, though she was barely conscious. She remembered Nathanial Garrison being in bed with her. At first, it was enough to make her want to die of shame and fright. Then Lydia understood what had really happened. Nathanial Garrison very well might have saved her life. Was she delirious? Lydia was only up for a few minutes. Teresa was able to get her to drink some broth. It was a win for them both. She slept peacefully for the rest of the day. In the night, though, she began to toss and turn.

  Nathanial lay with his back turned to her. The morning had been tough on him. Lydia had opened her eyes and immediately he’d seen the disdain on her face. Without a word he had left her there for Teresa to tend. The Laird knew a thing or two about impossible situations. More than that, he knew when he was not wanted. Now that she was again sleeping, he felt wanted again.

  Once she started moving, he turned to her and started to pull her in his arms. He stopped cold. Lydia’s eyes were wide open. She was watching him. Fragile, broken, exhausted, these were a few of the things Nathanial saw in her eyes. He’d done this to her. Yet, he no longer saw the disdain in her eyes. Lydia closed her eyes and rested her head back on her pillow. She was perfection in a woman if he had ever seen it. And she was his. The thought overcame him physically. She was his. And he wanted her. Even if it was just for a moment.

  Nathanial leaned down and took what was his. He brushed his lips over hers just once, promising himself once would be enough. Then he did it again. One more time, he assured himself, even as he felt himself becoming aroused. One more time and he would leave her alone. As he leaned in for his final kiss, Lydia’s eyes softly fluttered opened. Nathanial stopped, mere inches from her lips. He watched her face, looking for any sign of panic or disgust. He didn’t see it. He kept his eyes locked on hers as he gently rubbed her bottom lip with his thumb. He felt a shiver go through her. Was it the fever? Or was it her reaction to him? He was willing to find out.

  Nathanial bridged the gap between them and brushed his lips on hers. Her lips moved against his in the most timid way he’d ever experienced. It was enough. She was kissing him back. That was all the invitation he needed. He deepened the kiss. Nathanial continued his gentle assault on her until he couldn’t stand to play nice any longer. He took her bottom lip in his teeth and almost came undone when she sighed in pleasure and wrapped her arms around his neck. Nathanial took her chin in his hand and applied pressure until she opened for him. Then he was inside of her and pulling out again and again, showing her how he planned to make love to her very soon.

  Lydia was overwhelmed by Nathanial. His intensity, his passion, the size of his body, the way he was kissing her. It was all too much for her, and yet not enough. When she felt his hands on her hips, pulling her to him, and then his body pressing down on her as he pinned her under his sheer strength, she began to panic. Just as she was pulling away from him, Nathanial deepened the kiss one last time, and she was lost. Nathanial’s mouth slanted down on hers again and again and his tongue entered her and then left, only to repeat. Lydia felt part of her body awaken that she had never felt before. She was drowning. She wanted him, but she did not know how or why. Nathanial was taking her somewhere wonderful, somewhere safe. All those thoughts fled her mind the minute he placed his hand on the skin of her inner thigh. She sobered immediately and stiffened. She felt his arousal then. It was pressing up against her thighs, beckoning her to open for him.

  Nathanial felt her stiffen in his arm and knew exactly what was happening. Laird Garrison was about to bed a virgin and she was terrified. He knew she had never been with a man before. That much was evident in the way she kissed him. Nathanial pulled back to look down at Lydia’s face. Her lips were rosy and swollen from his tender assault. Her eyes glazed over with passion and fever. Nathanial could have her right now. He could make her forget about her insecurities, take her to a place where she felt safe and take her. God, he wanted that. He wanted to make her his completely in this moment. She would give herself to him so innocently. She would give everything to him, for she wouldn’t know any better. He would take it. These thoughts raged through his mind as he focused on letting her go. Lydia shifted ever so slightly. Her soft skin rubbed against his manhood and he was almost lost to the need. He groaned and pulled back.

  “I want you, Lydia.” Hearing him say it made her panic even more. She was coming down from the haze of passion. “Do you know what that means? To be wanted.”

  Lydia nodded, unsure.

  “No, you don’t.” Nathanial leaned down for one last, sensual kiss. “But I promise you will.”

  Nathanial was out of bed and walking out of the room before Lydia could say anything. Lydia watched the door long after he was gone. Was he going to come back to her? Why did she want him to? What had she done wrong? God, what was happening to her?

  Lydia closed her eyes and drifted off to her first peaceful night of sleep in weeks. While she lost consciousness, she promised herself Nathanial Garrison would never be able to take such liberties with her again.

  Chapter Four

  She wanted him to take liberties with her again. She was acting like a child besotted. Never had she allowed a man to do this to her. But no man had ever been Laird Garrison. A man that rightfully should be feared by all, enemy and kin. Yes, he had been gentle with her two nights before. Since then, however, the man had barely been seen. It was as if he was doing everything in his power to avoid her. How could a man be so passionate one moment and then feign ignorance of her existence the next?

  Lydia watched him leave earlier in the morning. He said a few, sobering words to Teresa, who then looked at Lydia with worry in her eyes, and then he was gone. God willing he was gone forever. It was a lie and she knew it. That was the English in her. At least that’s what Callum would say. Even now, she was sitting, staring out the window, wondering what awful life choices she’d made to get here, and if Laird Garrison was gone for good.

  “You have nothing to fear, love.” Teresa interrupted Lydia’s thoughts. “Once you get out of England.” She added.

  Lydia only smiled weakly. The Fane was the least of her
worries at this point, or so Lydia thought. “Nathanial won’t let anything happen to you.” Teresa placed a warm hand on Lydia’s face when she saw the doubt and fear in her eyes.

  “I cannot go with him.” Lydia admitted aloud. “I cannot be a part of whatever he’s planning.” She shook her head, fighting tears. “He must understand I cannot. Isn’t there another way?”

  “You’re too young to be wrapped up in all of this.” Teresa leaned down and took Lydia’s face in her hands for a second. In a moment of weakness, or maybe pure bravery, the older woman promised, “You’re welcome here as long as you want. Know that. We can figure out a way to keep you safe here.”

  “Laird Garrison would never allow it.” Lydia stammered.

  Teresa knew she was right. Still, “We’ll find a way.” Teresa kissed Lydia’s forehead the way a loving mother would.

  Lydia seemed to take heart at the comment, and the gesture. She smiled genuinely through her teary eyes. It was her silver lining in all of this. Teresa would let her stay and she would get out of this situation.

  “She’s leaving with me. Now.” Nathanial stood there, wearing proper English riding attire and holding a large white box.

  Lydia’s frantic eyes flew from Teresa’s eyes to Nathanial’s. How long had he been watching them? Lydia shook her head.

  “I can stay—Teresa? I can stay?”

  Teresa’s mood darkened at once, taking note of her dear friend’s attire and mood. “They’re here, aren’t they?”

  “They’ll be here within the hour. He knows who you are.” Nathanial’s announcement was grave. Teresa understood him at once and got moving.

  She frantically threw some belongings in a bag. “How could they know?” Whether or not Teresa expected an answer, no one was quite sure.

  “There are cowards all over this place, Teresa.” Nathanial meant to soothe her and chide her at the same time. The woman never should have moved back to English soil. Once her daughter had been married off to an Englishman, Teresa figured it would be safer for her little one to be close. All that was over and done now. Nathanial never wanted her to stay. This was, however, the land where her daughter was buried, and her grandchild. Only pain.

  Lydia wasn’t paying attention to the woman, she was watching Nathanial, and he was watching her now. Suddenly, Lydia was overcome with the hatred Nathanial felt for her betrothed. There was a fire in his eyes she had never seen in another human being.

  “You can tell him you killed me, can’t you?” Lydia’s voice was not as frail as she thought it was going to sound. She was relieved at this. Teresa stopped moving, taken aback. Nathanial’s expression didn’t change. His eyes bore into her so intensely she thought she might shatter, just the same way he had been looking at her. “Laird, will your scheme not be accomplished with me dead? We could go our separate ways here and no one would… ever know.”

  “And do you wish to die, Lydia?”

  Teresa, terrified Lydia might finally see the wrath of Laird Garrison, started to interject. One look from the man she raised, inspired her to do otherwise. She decided to silently pray for the child to end the conversation there.

  “No.” Lydia was cautious now. Laird Garrison was sure he had made his point with as little effort as possible. He was wrong. “No one would need to know I wasn’t dead.”

  “Lydia.” Teresa warned. The girl had no idea how close she was to the truth of the matter. She was merely a child, after all.

  “Do you think me a man that could kill a woman?” Laird Garrison was challenging the young girl. With his strength and his stature, looming over her from across the room, he was challenging her to stay quiet. She did not catch on.

  “I’m sure whatever Fane has done would warrant it.” Lydia wished she stopped earlier. A spark of true darkness appeared in his eyes then. Lydia broke eye contact with Nathanial and pleaded with Teresa to intervene. With her last bit of nerve she said, “I don’t think it’s an unreasonable request.”

  Apparently he did. “Teresa, have you everything you need?”

  “I’ll wait outside.” Teresa squeezed Lydia’s shoulder and abandoned her.

  Lydia watched after her until the door had closed. Then she was alone with him. God, he terrified her. Nathanial stood, watching her, wearing form English riding attire for reasons unknown to her, and he watched.

  As soon as he took a step forward, Lydia was out of her chair and walking backwards. Nathanial was faster. He reached her right before she was able to make a run for it. He cornered her, back against a wall, towering. Lydia couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Nathanial lowered his head to her ear and spoke slowly, trying to contain his anger, desperately trying not to hurt her.

  “You’re absolutely right, Lydia. Fane’s crimes would warrant the most violent vengeance.” Lydia felt his hand travel up her body slowly to her neck, where it lingered for a moment. Then he forced her chin up, so she would look him in the eye. “If we decide on that course of action, I promise you there will be nothing to feign.”

  With that, Nathanial started away. He addressed the white box finally. “Put this on. You may not be a lady, but by God you’ll act like one today.”

  Lydia felt tears spring to her eyes. She tried to force them from making a fool of herself. She waited for Nathanial to get to the door before she called out, “I’ll not stay with you, Laird Garrison. I do not want you the way you want me. I promise I’ll not stay.”

  He had the audacity to smile at her, whether he was amused or furious, she could not tell. Then he left.

  ****

  He wasn’t smiling now. They had barely made it out of Teresa’s home before Fane’s men arrived. Nathanial instructed the women to hide in the woods, just out of sight from the home. They were too late to outrun the men. They would now have to wait them out. This, Nathanial knew, would mean that Teresa would have to watch her home get destroyed right in front of her.

  Nathanial stood in rage as at least fifteen men tore through the home and set fire to it. Teresa sat not far away, weeping like a child, or a woman who’d lost everything. Lydia held onto the woman, urging her to be silent as her home and everything in it billowed in flames. After the attack, the men vanished, searching for them on the road.

  Nathanial watched the home burn for long moments before he realized Lydia was standing right beside him. He looked down at her and saw she was crying, just like Teresa. Her eyes found his as she forced herself to stop crying. “We have to do something.”

  Chapter Five

  We have to do something. Those words echoed in Nathanial’s mind for the next several hours. Even as they made camp after an arduous day of riding, he could still hear her plea.

  Lydia was sitting by the fire, stroking Teresa’s hair. Both women were silent, exhausted, and worried for the future. Nathanial was worried as well. He had never made this trip without his men before. He had never made this trip with sullen women, either. Nor had he made it dressed like some English dandy, but he had little choice there. His colors would bring the Duke to him quicker than he would like. He was not prepared. And he always rode through England dressed as the natives, though not as frilly, unless he was starting a war… or hunting a bride. Was he ever in England for any other purpose?

  If they rode hard enough, tomorrow night they would be sleeping under Scottish stars once more, and then he would be able to rest. As for this moment, he needed to wash the English off of his skin. Nathanial headed to the lake without so much of a comment to the women he was leaving behind. Lydia couldn’t help but watch him until she could no longer see him.

  “He’ll be back, child.”

  “I hope to never see him again.” That was just the English in her.

  “We all tell ourselves lies, my dear.” Teresa commented. “Tell me about your family, child.” Teresa desperately needed to take her mind off the loss of her home, her everything.

  “There’s not much to know.” Lydia still watched after Nathanial, wondering what he was up to. �
��I have a sister, a mother and father.” Lydia turned to Teresa and smiled. “I have Callum.”

  “Who is Callum?” Teresa seemed worried and intrigued all at once. Did her Laird’s bride have a lover?

  “He is like a brother to me. A much, much older brother.” Lydia smiled. “Years ago, my father was tasked with mending relationships between the throne and some clans in the Highlands.” The two women got settled and Lydia took Teresa on a journey. “My father meant Callum on the first trip. I met him on the third trip.”

  “You’ve been to the Highlands then?” Teresa seemed shocked. Lydia remembered she was keeping that under her sleeve and silently cursed herself. She betrayed herself. She was quick to come up with a lie.

  “Only the once, when I was a small girl. Never again.”Lydia knew she was too eager with that information. It was not genuine. “Callum was a warrior.” For the next several hours Lydia told her companion all about the older, wiser, sour man. She reminisced about learning to hunt with him, though she lied and said it was on English soil. Truth be told, Callum swore never to step foot on English soil when he was thirty years old, and he had held true to that promise. Lydia would visit him in the springtime for many years, but no one needed to know that.

  “My father always had a shaky relationship with the Scots, even before I was born. He completely gave up on them when I was ten years old.”

  “But he never liked the Scots.” Teresa seemed to know what she was talking about. She was right.

  “No. He never did.”

  “The treaty was a lie. Much like many other things the English lied about.”

  “It wasn’t a lie so much as him trying to change his ways.” Lydia defended. “He still kept Margret, our nursemaid on after the truce broke.”

  “Why do you suppose that is?” Teresa was prodding the girl, digging, wanting her to understand, to realize the truth.