Bride of Vengeance (Highland Romance Series Book 1) (8 page)

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.”

“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.