Bride of Vengeance (Highland Romance Series Book 1)

by Pruitt, Anna

  “It was green. Wasn’t it?”

  Margret nodded.

  “A sip of Devil’s Powder would bring the strongest of men to their knees.” Nathanial felt an anger rising inside of him. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.

  “She’s going to make it.” Margret seemed to find the silver lining in everything. It was the one thing that irritated Nathanial more than anything else.

  “She never should have been exposed to it.” Nathanial announced before fuming out of the hut, leaving a confused Margret behind.

  “Would you rather she die?” Margret whispered to herself as she watched Nathanial disappear towards the keep.

  ****

  It was the whispers that woke Lydia in the early hours of the morning. The sun was shining through the window of the bedroom. She was lying in a large bed now. Someone had moved her from the table in the great hall. Lydia narrowed her gaze from the sunlight hitting her face. As the minutes grew on, so did the beams that broke into the room.

  At the end of the room, Lydia could see the back of her husband. He was speaking to someone. Lydia thought to close her eyes for just a moment. The next time she opened them, it was well in the afternoon.

  She was completely alone in the room. With a great deal of struggle, Lydia pulled herself up onto her hands. It was then she noticed there was little energy in her body. For this reason, she leaned against the headboard and took several deep breaths. The pain in her side was not to blame for her hard breathing; there was something else at work inside of her body. It was something she had felt before.

  Lydia put all of her strength into placing her feet on the floor. “You’re in no condition to be out of bed, Lydia.” Margret, like old times, sat in near the window behind the girl’s bed. She seemed sullen, far away. This was new.

  “I feel much better.” Lydia lied even as she rested her back against the headboard once more. “What happened?”

  “Yer father tried to have ye killed, that’s what.” Margret grumbled and continued to stare out the window. She could not hide the hatred in her voice. “That man…”

  “Is he dead?” Was she merely interested, the way she sounded? Margret observed the sickly girl and could not make up her mind.

  “Aye.”

  Lydia nodded at this. “And I?”

  “It was close.” Margret was up now, and walking towards her. “You had a brush with the Devil’s Powder.” Margret announced as she meddled with Lydia’s bandages.

  “That does not sound at all peaceful.” Lydia raised her arms as Margret checked the bandages. It was all she could do to keep them up, her strength depleted.

  “It’s hell, is what it is.” Margret lowered the girl’s arms and sat on the edge of the bed. “I am sorry about Callum, love.” Margret touched the girl’s face.

  “Father hated that I loved him.” Lydia smiled now, sad though it was. “He was with me for so long, I did not know what else to feel about him.”

  “You’ve always had an affinity for the Scottish.” Margret dropped her hand from Lydia’s face. “’Tis how I know you would love Laird Garrison.”

  “I do not love him.” Lydia bold face lied. Margret raised an eyebrow. “We have an… arrangement.” Margret urged the girl to continue without saying anything. She merely stared. “Once Nathanial has accomplished his plan, I will be set free. Since my father is dead…” Lydia’s eyes welled with tears. “I assume our arrangement has been completed.” It was both her father and her husband that had her in this much pain.

  “And what will ye do, lass?” Margret seemed so sincere in her question.

  “I am going to kill Baron Fane.”

  The declaration had the older woman in such shock, she did not know whether to laugh or frown. She chose the latter. “Now, lass, ye’ll not be killing anyone while I’m around. Ye can barely take care of yerself.” Margret stood now, overwhelmed by the nonsense of this child. It was always something with her. “Killing grown men with armies.” Margret huffed as she walked out of the room. “That’ll be the day.”

  “Laird will teach me.” Lydia forced herself to stand now, defiantly. Margret turned back to the girl and smiled.

  “Is that right?” Margret couldn’t help but feel pride in the girl that could barely stand on her own at the moment. Lydia stood by the bed, head high, looking ready to faint. “Another one of yer arrangements?”

  “Yes.” Another lie and they both knew it.

  Margret nodded. “I’ll be sure to bring it up when next we meet.” When these words were uttered, Lydia almost blanched. Margret watched the girl search for some kind of excuse not to bring it up. However, after a moment, Lydia simply nodded.

  “You do that.” Lydia could play strong no longer. She took a deep breath and sat down on the bed.

  “Yer as stubborn as a mule, lass. And ye smell like one, too. I’ll have a bath drawn for ye.”

  ****

  An hour later, Lydia rested in the warmest water she had felt in a long while. She was careful sitting down in the large brass tub, as her side was still in agony. Whatever Margret added to the water did the trick; within minutes she was relaxed and her side at ease.

  It took only a few more minutes for her mind to find those shadowy places she dreaded once more. The girl was consumed with thoughts of her dear Callum’s death, her sister’s fate at the moment, her father’s evil heart and death. And then there was Nathanial. He was the most troublesome of all. Would he really let her go to fulfill her own destiny of vengeance? Did she want him to? Lydia felt her eyes well up with tears as she realized she might not want to leave his side. But, Laird Garrison was a man of his word. If he said she could go, he meant it. He did not want her.

  Lydia forced her mind to let go of all the horrid thoughts plaguing it. Life was the way it was. Nothing would change the horror that had taken place. All she could do was look forward to the future.

  The door to the chamber opened, and then closed after a moment.

  “The water is lovely.” Lydia wiped the tears from her face. None of the Laird’s people needed to see her this way. Decorum first, feelings could wait.

  “I’m sure it is.” Nathanial’s deep brogue jolted her from her feeling of false security. Still, she was able to turn her head to him slowly, and coolly take him in. Her composer vanished like most of her best intentions when he was around. He was standing naked not more than ten feet away. And the look in his eye…

  “I hope you’ve been well, husband.” Lydia thought she sounded very formal and distant.

  Nathanial thought she sounded as if she’d swallowed a frog, or needed to drink something desperately. He approached slowly, keeping eye contact with his wife. He picked up a robe and approached the bath.

  “I’ve been hoping to find you well, wife.” Nathanial’s voice was just as hoarse as hers, and he recognized it. God, he thought he might never get to see her like this again. It was a blessing and a curse. A blessing she was alive and well. A curse that he was going to have to tell his wife that her own mother tried to kill her. He forced the latter thought out of his mind. She was alive and well, and his, and at this moment that was what mattered.

  “I am not finished.” Lydia, stubborn as she was, still wanted to goad her husband, even in her weak state.

  “Aye, lass, you are.” Nathanial was more surprised than she when his bride actually obeyed him for once. She stood, letting the water cascade from the feminine curves of her body. He took it in for long moments, and then his eyes landed on the just now healing scar on her side. His eyes went dim.

  Lydia knew what was wrong with him the moment it happened. She reached out, not knowing why she wanted to comfort him so badly. “I am alive, Laird.” She took his large, scarred, strong hand and placed it over her healing wound. “I promise you.”

  Looking at his filthy hand against her pure skin made Nathanial almost rethink taking her into his arms and making love to her. Almost. She was pure, and he was a raging animal, those were
the thoughts that went through his head as he scooped her from the bathtub into his arms and carried her to their marriage bed.

  The Laird made sure to gently lay her down, the entire time he chastised himself for not being able to control himself. His wife needed to heal; she did not need him pawing her to death. Nathanial looked down at the girl he married and felt shame overcome him. Her eyes were red and swollen from tears and exhaustion, her skin pale from fever. She could barely keep herself standing, and here he was, seconds away from ravaging her to fulfill his own need. Part of him knew it was more than that. Lydia was alive. He needed to feel her skin against his to assure himself she really was.

  Nathanial leaned down and kissed his bride on the forehead. “I’ll leave you be, lass.”

  Lydia had much more strength in her than he had expected. She looped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her lips. “I’ll die if you do.”

  It was all the invitation her warrior needed, he wrapped her in his arms and drugged her with tender kisses.

  Lydia’s welcoming hands rubbed his back and shoulders while he kissed her neck and chest. Lydia, feeling brave, lowered her hands and touched his bare buttocks. She liked the groan of pleasure she gained from her husband, and became braver still. She let her hands caress his body until they found their way around his hard shaft. Lydia remembered the way he reacted when she touched him on their wedding night. Fueled by the need to bring him back to that place, she gently wrapped one hand around him and felt his entire body tighten in response.

  “I want to…” Lydia’s plea was silenced when Nathanial stole her mouth for a hot, wet kiss. Before she knew it he was gone. It did not take long for her to discover where he went. He was now leaning in between her legs, pulling the very heat of her close to his mouth. And then he was kissing her in her most private part of her body.

  “Laird,” Lydia reacted as if she’d been struck by lightning, jerking almost out of his hands. The man would not be deterred. He did smile as he took her into his mouth. She’d called him Laird. It pleased him to his core, and he was going to return the favor.

  Lydia’s body was not prepared for the sweet torment, the agony that came with having a man make love to her this way. His tongue was magic against the folds of her feminine identity. Within no time at all she was climbing closer to the most powerful release she had ever experienced.

  Nathanial felt his innocent lover’s body tighten as she found her fulfillment. It was only then, when he could bear it no longer, that he came back to kiss her mouth and entered her with one powerful surge. Lydia’s scream of ecstasy fueled his movements. He was not gentle, God knows he should have been, but neither of them could handle gentle right now.

  “I love you.” Lydia’s frantic admission forced Nathanial’s completion. He groaned as he spilled his life inside of her.

  The two lovers lay in each other’s arms for long moments afterwards. Each of them lost in their own thoughts, miles away mentally from the other.

  Lydia was in awe of this man who could make her feel so many things at once. Laird Garrison could make her angry enough to murder one moment, and then take everything from her the next. And she would give it to him willingly. That was the most baffling part of all. Lydia would give him anything he wanted, and that scared the hell out of her.

  Nathanial’s thoughts were focused on the girl that was now resting on his chest, falling gently to sleep. She had bewitched him completely. Nathanial felt Lydia slump in his arms, the true sign that she had, indeed, fallen asleep. The fearsome Laird could not help but smile after he kissed her head and closed his own eyes. Lydia loved him. At least, she had said she did. At that moment in his life, it was all that mattered. She was a troublesome annoyance of a girl, but she was his and she loved him. Lydia had said so herself.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Had she really said that out loud? Lydia awoke the next morning and immediately regretted it. The only thing she could hear or think was the loudest declaration of love anyone had ever given foolishly, or so she was sure it was. What had she done? Lydia was slow to open her eyes. She was sure Nathanial would be staring down at her with anger or displeasure in his eyes. Surely he did not want some English girl loving him. Yet, she was alone.

  It was with the regret of a thousand mistakes that Lydia forced herself out of bed that morning. She’d been cooped up for long enough. She needed some air. As long as that air was in the direct opposite area of the keep that Nathanial was in.

  She did not want to see him today. Lydia was quick and quiet as she made her way through the halls of Nathanial’s home. The place was bleak, but she was sure all Highland men lived this way. She was, however, still shocked to see not a color other than brown or grey as she made her way to the back entrance of the place. And she had not seen another living soul so far.

  It did not take long to hear them, though. Two women, one older, one young, stood outside the doors of the keep talking as Lydia slowly opened and readied to leave.

  “She’ll not be here long.” The younger of them predicted. Both women stared off into the fields where the men trained. “I’ve known that boy since he was a wee lad. One thing has been on his mind: revenge. He’ll do what needs to be done and be rid of her.”

  “For all of our sakes, I hope yer right.”

  Lydia fought the urge to greet the women. Her mother would have placed a big, fat grin on her face and started conversation with these hags who were clearly gossiping about her life. Lydia was not that way, though she wished she was.

  Lydia closed the door, taking great effort to be silent. She then made her way towards the back of the building. There was a small kitchen that looked like it had never been used, except for that it was as filthy as the rest of the keep.

  The weak, now highly insulted girl left through the kitchen. The brutal Highland air greeted her at once. Still, it was not as ruthless as those women just were to her. But they were right, weren’t they? The only reason Lydia married Nathanial was because he’d promised her he’d let her go. Was she still telling herself this lie?

  Lydia found herself walking farther and farther away from the keep, lost in her thoughts. All of a sudden she was tired, her side ached, though not nearly as much as her heart. She looked back towards the keep and it just seemed so far away. Lydia sat down on the cold ground and tried to catch her breath. Her mother had told her stories of grief overcoming a person so deeply they could not think, they could not breathe. The woman had always been a bright beam of hope. She used to warn Lydia this might happen to her if she did not behave. She would rot from the inside out from the agony that came with loving a man that could never be hers. Lydia was sure this is what was happening to her now. Her grief was going to swallow her heart whole, and there would be nothing left of her.

  Giving into grief is not something a woman of strength should do; Lydia chided herself even as she broke into tears. She hid her face in her hands and let both drop into her knees. She stayed like that, letting it all go. She was not sure how long she had been in this condition. She was even less sure how Nathanial was able to sneak up on her like he did. One minute she was alone in the world, the next she was being hauled to his side. He wrapped and arm around her and did the best he could to comfort her.

  Lydia was quick to pull herself together then. Nathanial Garrison would not see her weep. She wiped her eyes and stared straight ahead, sitting rigid in his arms.

  “What’s got you crying, Lydia?” Any number of things, he knew. This was not the life most women would wish for. The Highlands alone could break the strongest people.

  “When am I to leave, Laird?” Lydia’s question threw him off guard. One minute she was weeping and the next she was ready to ride into battle against him. “Your vengeance must be complete now. When will you be done with me?”

  “Soon.” Laird Garrison matched her tone, though not willing to release her yet. He kept his arm draped over her shoulder, keeping her glued to his side.

 
“I’d like to know an exact time, Laird. I have plans to make and I’d like to be concise.”

  “Plans to make? Like killing Fane?”

  “Yes.”

  “I suppose you’ll be fit enough to ride off into battle any day now, will ye?”

  “I am healing…”

  “Men who’ve had brushed with Devil’s Powder have been out for months. That’s two times for you, Lydia. There is no healing from that.”

  “Two times?” Lydia narrowed her gaze.

  “You’ll not be leaving.” Nathanial was not willing to get into that conversation now. He stood. “Yer too weak. You won’t make it past the keep, as proven.”

  Lydia stood in a flash and almost fell over. Nathanial was rolling his eyes when he reached out and steadied her. “I am not weak.” Lydia slapped his arms away. “You…” She was going to cry again, she could feel it. “You promised I could go.”

  “I lied.” Nathanial turned and started walking away. He’d come back for her when she proved she was too weak to come back on her own.

  “Does hurting me help your pain?” Lydia was right beside him now. She was giving it her all. Lydia reached for his arm; Nathanial whirled around and grabbed her by the shoulders. Before he could shake sense into her Lydia, eyes shimmering with tears, she declared, “My father did not care if I live or die. Why?” Lydia tried to shrug his hands off her arms. It did not work. “Why can’t you let me go?”

  Nathanial seemed to think about it for a long time. How could he tell her the truth now? Nathanial let go of her and walked away from her. That familiar guilt overcame him once again. He should turn and tell her the truth. The truth that he was expecting to marry an English brat and hate her. He was planning on killing her father, after ruining their good name, and then he was going to send her away. But all of that changed when he met her. Nathanial stalked away from his wife knowing the truth. He could not let her go because he loved her.

  He would never say it, though, and he hated that he felt it. He hated that she had declared her love for him the night before. This was not the way his life was supposed to turn out. If there was one thing Highland men hated more than anything, it was not being in control of their own fates. By God, he would get the control back.