Bride of Vengeance (Highland Romance Series Book 1)

by Pruitt, Anna

  “Lydia, love.” Margret focused on the tone of her voice. She learned long ago that it wasn’t what one said, but how one said it. This was especially true of bad tidings. “Your father… he’s coming to the keep.”

  Lydia couldn’t stop herself from smiling. Of course he would come for her. “He’ll no doubt try and collect me.” Lydia started. “I’ll tell him not to fret about it. He’ll see.”

  “Lydia, you’re very young. Very… innocent. There are things you wouldn’t understand about men. Not yet.” Margret watched the warriors as they came over the hill and the keep came into view. “Your father did awful things in his youth.”

  “Hasn’t every man?” Lydia narrowed her gaze. She saw her father’s flags, his men and their horses standing guard outside the gates. There was something comforting about knowing her father did want her back. He loved her after all. Would he still want to sell her to Fane? Most likely, of course. But Nathanial would not let that happen. They were married, after all.

  “Lydia, listen to me, child.” Margret watched Nathanial’s body language change. “Nathanial lost his mother when he was just a lad.” Nathanial and the warriors stopped in front of the James men, no one moved. Except for Quinton, he rode from the gates of the keep to his Laird’s side. “She was murdered in a most heinous manner. Lydia, she was pregnant. The man who killed her wanted to make sure her child was not born. It would ruin him for his English line to be tainted with that of a Scotswoman. He felt it would destroy his chances of ruling. Do you understand what I am saying?”

  “Fane did this. Didn’t he?” Lydia was saddened by the story as she was every time she heard it. Still, she had to force herself not to smile at her father as they came closer. None of the men spoke to each other. They were only staring. Lydia prayed Margret would hurry so they could dispel the anger between the two groups.

  “No, Lydia.” Margret said with deep meaning. “It was not Fane. He was present, and for that he will pay dearly. It was not Fane.”

  Lydia was slow to come around…

  The truth of the matter finally hit Lydia like a ton of bricks in the chest. She lost air. She lost feeling in her body, she was going into shock. As her father stared into her eyes she finally understood what was happening. She was, indeed, just a pawn. Lydia was revenge against her father. She had become what he hated, an Englishwoman mixed with the Scotsman whose mother he murdered years ago.

  And now he had come back for her. To kill her? Or for Nathanial to kill?

  A deep panic overcame Lydia then. Nathanial was going to kill her father. Lydia took no time jumping down from the horse. The thought that she could have broken her neck never crossed her mind. The young bride was running to her husband’s side before Margret even realized she had lost the girl.

  “Laird!” It was the voice he expected to hear, but was praying he would not. Vengeance was his destiny and no woman would get in the way of it. Vengeance, a means to an end, that’s all she was. Still, as he looked down at his new bride as she dared touch his hand in front of his warriors, he knew he was only lying to himself. “Laird, please.”

  “Remove yourself from my side, wife.” Laird Garrison said the words, cutting into her father with his eyes.

  “Wife?” James incredulously looked down at his daughter. A look of pure, unadulterated disgust played across his features. “Tell me you did not marry this barbarian, Lydia.”

  Lydia felt the tears well up in her eyes. She felt his disdain and his hatred. Both of those were directed at her.

  “Father,”

  “Don’t address him, Lydia.” Nathanial’s word was final. So he thought, so he was used to.

  “Father, please. It does not have to end badly. Go.”

  “Lydia,” James closed his eyes. He seemed to think about his choices for a moment before opening his eyes and observing his daughter. “Baron Fane will still have you. He owes me dearly. Father Langley will absolve this distasteful union. Tell me it was not consummated.”

  Such questions should never be answered in public. Lydia felt as though her face was lit on fire.

  “You cannot be serious. He forced himself on you. The barbarian forced himself on my precious child.” Her father declared. “Father Langley will see him punished. You all see the truth. My daughter was forced into this relationship.”

  “The barbarian will not get away with it.” Father Langley walked into the conversation. He was young for a priest. Langley held out his hand for her. “Come with me, child. There will be justice. Even barbarians cannot hide from the justice God brings.”

  Lydia looked at the priest’s hand, she looked at her father who waited on her impatiently. Then she turned her attention to her husband, whose hand rested on the hilt of his sword. He was not looking at her.

  Nathanial waited for Lydia to take Langley’s hand, and then he would cut the man’s off. He had little hope that his new bride would stand by him. Betrayal would not deter him, however. He would keep her and kill her father this day. It was his right.

  “I chose him, father.” Lydia’s words almost knocked him off his horse. “You might never understand, but I have made my choice… for myself.” The priest’s hand retracted in pure disgust. “He’s a good man. We can come to some sort of agreement. It does not have to end violently. Please, go home.”

  Nathanial felt Lydia’s hand rest on his thigh. She was standing by him. The shock of her actions threw him completely off guard. He was not ready for what came next.

  “So be it.” James suddenly motioned with one hand, waving it forward.

  Nathanial was expecting an ambush, but not like this. An arrow flew past him, directly into his wife. Lydia inhaled sharply and hit the ground, surely dead.

  An inhuman sound rang from Nathanial Garrison. It’s a moment that his men and Margret, and all else who survived it would remember for the rest of their lives. Quinton was already trained and ready on the marksman before he could take another shot. He loosed an arrow. It struck the villain in his chest. He then rushed to the side of his Laird’s bride. Nathanial did not need any more help.

  Any soul within a mile of the battle would hear the screams of pain and anguish from those men who dared threaten the life of the Laird’s bride. It was no contest. Nathanial overpowered the men one by one.

  James was one of the first to fall from his horse, and one of the first to run away. As Nathanial cut through the men James sent after him, he was aware that the man he waited to kill his entire life was getting away, Father Langley right behind him. He was quick, kicking the last man between himself and James to the ground. He held the man there with one foot. He then lunged his sword across the field, striking Father Langley in the chest. Surely, that was his ticket to hell being signed.

  James ran as fast as his older body could endure. He was not used to the rugged terrain of the Highlands. He was, however, highly motivated by the warrior following close behind. Garrison walked past the fallen Langley, pulling the sword from his back as he moved. James fell to the ground, struggling with his breath. Garrison was upon him in no time at all.

  “I’m a pawn, Garrison. Don’t you see?” James breathed hard. “I’ve always been. Fane, he’s the one you want.”

  “I’ll get him, too.” Garrison, only sparing a moment’s thought of his now dead bride, ran his sword through her father’s belly. The older man screamed in agony, it was a sound Garrison had heard many times. It was the sound his mother made before she was killed all those years ago. Nathanial left the man in the field to bleed out. He needed to get back to his wife.

  Lydia was dead. It was the only thought on Nathanial’s mind as he approached the crowd around his wife. Nathanial broke though to look down at her. The arrow was true. It stuck out from her side.

  “Breathe, girl.” Margret cooed at the child. Lydia was having a hard time doing just that. Margret raised her eyes to see the pain in her Laird’s eyes. “Laird, we need to get her inside.”

  Lydia’s eyes fluttered closed. �
��Lydia, wake up, child.” Margret slapped her cheeks. “Open your eyes.”

  “Lydia!” Nathanial growled. It did the trick. Lydia’s eyes flew open. “Don’t you dare leave me.” His voice was gruff, demanding. If his warriors weren’t horrified for her, they would have been teasing him by now.

  Lydia gave it her best effort, but immediately felt her strength failing her again. She closed her eyes.

  Nathanial reached down and picked her up, cradling her in his blood soaked arms. Lydia’s scream both alarmed him and soothed him at the same time. At least she was staying awake. The longer she stayed awake, the better her chance of making it through this alive.

  “Get Teresa.” Nathanial barely got the words out of his mouth before Duncan came into view.

  “She’s already prepared.” Duncan watched his Laird carry his wife towards the keep.

  “I’m not making it to heaven.” Lydia’s words were mostly incoherent. How could she make it to heaven? She had never listened in church and found most men of the cloth troublesome. Just like that Langley, who probably tried to kill her just like her father.

  “My father?” Lydia’s words trailed off. She let her gaze fall behind her husband, where her father was last seen.

  “Not now, lass.” Duncan blocked her view. “Not now.”

  “I’m going to die.” Lydia closed her eyes now, ready to let herself go. Would she see Callum now? Or would her hell be an eternity in the hateful gaze of her father? Would he haunt her now? Was he dead? Had her husband killed her father?

  Nathanial lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered, “I swear to God, if you die, I will come and get you. Know that. You will never be free from me.”

  Lydia actually smiled. That was the last thing she heard before she passed out for several minutes.

  Moments later, Lydia jolted awake when Teresa loomed over her, pulling the arrow from her side. The pain was intense. She called out… for her husband. Nathanial came into view within seconds, gripping her shoulders, pressing her to the table where she lay.

  Lydia could not help but smile deliriously. “We’ve done this before.” She sighed in agony, and then she was screaming again as Teresa pulled the large splinters from her side.

  “It had better be the last time, lass.” Nathanial kissed her forehead. “It had better be the last.”

  Lydia found herself falling asleep again, even before Teresa covered her mouth with her special concoction. “Laird, please.” Teresa persisted. “You should not be here for this.” Teresa, covered in the blood of his wife, pleaded with her eyes. “Please.”

  But the warrior said nothing. He waited until the woman who raised him gave up, as she most always did, and got back to work. Teresa cleaned the wound and started closing Lydia’s side when she saw it. A light green powder on Lydia’s stomach. Teresa immediately started to panic. She took some of the powder on her finger and licked it, and then spit it out.

  “Oh God.” She called out. Then she turned to Jax. “Get him out.” Teresa meant business now. Nathanial’s heart started racing like a thousand horses coursing through his veins.

  “Teresa, “ Nathanial warned.

  “Now, boy!” Teresa slamming her foot down hard on the ground. She saw the torment in her son’s eyes, but it would be worse to let him watch the woman he loved die. She could not go through with it. Jax forced his Laird out of the room and barricaded the door.

  Teresa turned to Margret. “It’s the Devil’s Powder.”

  “Good God.” Jax found it hard to breathe now. “She’ll not make it.”

  “She will.” Teresa predicted. She grabbed parchment and a pen and shook as she wrote down a list of items she would need from Mother Nature. She handed the list to Margret and sent her off.

  When the doors opened, a nervous Nathanial stood by. As the doors closed, Teresa pulled out a small knife and sharpened it with haste. She would need to open the wound wider and bleed the poison from it. As the older woman started to cut, she heard Jax breath in sharply.

  Teresa motioned to the door. “I don’t need you here, Jax. Go to your Laird.”

  Jax was never one to argue with Teresa and he was not going to start now. The last thing he wanted was to see the lovely lass his Laird cared for so deeply in that state.

  By the time Jax went in search of Nathanial, his Laird had vanished.

  ****

  He was burying Lydia’s father and the James fallen men. His thoughts raced only with those of his bride. Was she going to make it? God knew he wouldn’t if she died. She had stepped into his life and showed him something, gave him something. If she took it away now, Nathanial would surely not survive.

  The thought of losing Lydia had him sick to his stomach. People died. Living his entire life in the Highlands had taught Nathanial a thing or two about life. The one thing he knew more than anything was that people died. No one made it long out in the Highlands. Lydia was a special breed of woman, though. She was not weak. If he ever saw a woman that could survive in this place, it would have been her.

  Lydia had come into his life and ruined all of his plans. Vengeance was all that mattered to him since he was a young lad. He had wanted to feel the power, the release that came with slaying the man who took everything from him. He wanted that man to die knowing he had the upper hand, he had his daughter. Everything worked out the way he had planned his entire life, and he had never felt so empty.

  “Laird.” Nathanial heard Jax’s nervous, hesitant voice. He turned and scared the hell out of the older man with the intensity in his eyes. “Nathanial. Come inside, lad. It’s Lydia.”

  They were the words Nathanial was praying not to hear.

  ****

  “It’s the Devil’s Powder, Laird.” Teresa braced herself for the anger she was sure her dear boy would express. Lydia lay motionless on the table for all to see. She was not moving. The shimmer of fever that was so familiar to her shone all over her body. Teresa and Nathanial stood in the room alone now. The latter simply stared at the woman he had grown accustomed to suffer a few feet away from him. “At this point, the most we can do it try and make her transition as painless as possible.” Teresa barely uttered the words. Nathanial’s pained eyes met hers. He shook his head.

  Teresa had started to bleed the girl and then came to the realization that she could not, in good conscience, do such a thing. There was little chance Lydia would make it through the night. What was the point in making her suffer so much?

  “No.” Was all he said. He continued to watch his wife struggle to breathe.

  “We can make her more conformable than this, Laird. She can find peace.” Teresa placed a loving hand on his.

  “Treat her.”

  “Laird, it is a gruesome treatment. Very painful. She’ll—“

  “Survive. Teresa. Treat her. Lydia will survive.”

  “At what cost? Laird, the treatment has ruined the minds of even the strongest warriors. It has left many unable to fight infection off. And these were warriors, Nathanial, Highland men. Lydia—Lydia--”

  “Will survive. I’m not burying her.” Nathanial finally snapped. “You do what you need to do. She’ll take it.”

  Of all stubborn, stupid men, Teresa thought to herself as she turned back to the dying girl on her table. There was no way this lass was going to make it through the night.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was in the middle of the night when Lydia opened her eyes. They were swollen, red and tired, but they were alive. Her head was turned to give her a perfect view of Teresa. The older woman slept right next to her with her head rested on the table. They were mere breaths apart. Agony. It was the only word that Lydia could think to describe her pain. Yet, she had felt this way before. This fever was nothing new to her body. The blinding pain in her side was new, but the weakness that came with the fever was old news to her. She could take this.

  Lydia turned her head with care, for her head felt as if someone split in two with an ax. There he was. Lydia felt a sigh of
relief go through her body as soon as she saw him. He was not sleeping, just staring. There was a kind of shock on his features, as if he could not believe what he was witnessing. The man said nothing. Lydia had neither the strength nor the inclination to start a conversation. She did, however, force a small, weak smile before closing her eyes and drifting off once more.

  Seeing Lydia so alert should have comforted him, for it meant she would likely survive. Instead of calming him, Nathanial felt an anger come over him that he had never before felt. He stood quietly and left the room, intent on getting the truth, or at least as close to it as possible.

  He found himself at Margret’s door minutes later. The small hut door framed the woman perfectly as she opened it and looked at him.

  “Is she?”

  “Alive.” He barely uttered the word. He was losing grip on his emotions. This conversation needed to end before Nathanial lost all composure. But it had not even started.

  “Praise the lord.” Margret’s sigh of relief was true.

  “Tell me about the events of that morning.” Nathanial spoke briskly. Whatever was on his mind, he had not yet ruled Margret out as a suspect. The woman felt the accusation.

  “What morning?” Margret waited and was given no answer. “The morning of the wedding? At the cottage?” The curt not was all she was given as an answer. Margret began the painstaking job of retelling everything she remembered from that day. What on earth was he looking for? It was not until Margret brought up Lydia’s mother’s gift of the drink that she understood what Nathanial was asking her.

  “Tell me about the drink, Margret.”

  “It was her mother, Nathanial.” Margret wanted to give the woman the benefit of the doubt. “You think Lydia is alive because she’s been… exposed to this before?”

  “Tell me about the drink.”

  “It was murky, it smelled a little like mint.”

  “That’s it?”

  “It was…” Margret could not bring herself to say it. “That’s her mother, Laird. Surely she would not have poisoned her own child.”