Page 48 of Her Highlander’s Darkest Temptation (Highlanders of Cadney #14)
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
P ain.
That was the first thing Lydia was aware of. Her head was throbbing in a manner that suggested she’d taken a blow, and her shoulders were in an uncomfortable position. She was also lying on something hard and uneven, with stones pressing uncomfortably against her frame.
What happened?
Then her memory came flooding back, and Lydia bit her lip to stifle a gasp. The attack on Ranald Keep. Attackers breaching the gates. Her foray into the battlefield with Evelyn and Maisie, to bring the wounded to safety. Someone had called out… something… and then enemy soldiers had attacked her.
She’d tried to fight them off, tried to lead them away when she realized they were after her, not Maisie or Evelyn. Then… pain. Pain and blackness.
I must have been taken prisoner.
“You can stop pretending, girl. I know you’re awake.” The voice was painfully familiar.
Lydia winced, but opened her eyes and rolled awkwardly into a sitting position.The bindings pinning her hands and arms behind her made movement difficult. “Hello, Uncle Cedric.”
Cedric Wycliffe was a tall man, a head taller than Lydia even when both were standing, and lean as the hunting hounds he bred for royal foxhunts.
Here in the Highlands, he’d apparently foregone his usual tailored silks and velvets for sturdy breeches and a mailed surcoat, but the forbidding scowl on his face was one Lydia knew almost better than she knew her own expressions.
She’d rarely, if ever, seen him without it.
At her greeting, his expression grew even more thunderous.
“You would dare to address me so cavalierly, after what you have done? Disgracing our family name, and dishonoring your obligations as a member of the Wycliffe family… had I any other heirs, you would be disowned and horsewhipped through the streets as an example of what the fate of unrepentant slatterns and shameless thankless young women should be.”
The words cut deep, and Lydia bit her tongue to stifle her first response.
I might have preferred that.
Instead, she forced herself to remain quiet as her uncle continued speaking. “It was bad enough that you should flee from your duties and the man I chose as your husband. But then, to give yourself to a Highland ruffian.”
Boldness and anger at his hypocrisy loosened Lydia’s tongue. “Is not Laird Cameron also a Highlander?”
Cedric Wycliffe - for she refused to think of the man before her as her uncle any longer - made a noise of disgust. “Listen to you. You have even begun to sound like these heathens.”
“Even so, what could it matter who you ally with. La-Lord Ranald is…”
“Lord Cameron is a man with wealth, a passable army at his back, and a vast network of useful connections, as well as a fair amount of ambition, enough that even the royal court recognizes that he is a man to be reckoned with. Your ‘Lord Ranald...” Cedric spat the words like a curse, “has little territory, fewer allies, and is far from favored by the crown. In fact, his clan is in shambles after his rebellious actions landed him in the king’s gaol as punishment. Compared to Lord Cameron, he is friendless pauper attempting to hold a title he has neither the strength, wealth, ambition, nor even intelligence to maintain.”
“He is a good man. And kin by marriage to the Stewarts.”
“The Stewarts. Rebellious upstarts. They are tolerated, nothing more.” Lord Wycliffe spat the words. “As well as being kin to brigands.”
“He is an honorable man.”
With shocking suddenness, Lord Wycliffe swooped down and seized her chin in a grip of iron, so painful she feared he might crack her jaw with the force of it.
“Enough of this. I will not have you defending the man. Were he truly honorable as you say, he would have given you a sharp lesson in obeying your betters, then returned you to your betrothed.”
A cold smile flickered across his face as he stood. “As I intend to do.”
Ice filled Lydia’s veins. “You cannot mean to…”
“I do. Willing or not, even if I must beat you halfway to unconsciousness and carry you to the altar, you will fulfill the pact with Lord Cameron.”
“Indeed. Though I would prefer tae administer me own lessons, Lord Wycliffe.” The cold, snake-like voice made Lydia shudder as a second man stepped into the light.
He was tall, taller even than Lord Cedric, with short-cut auburn hair and a close-clipped beard on the point of his chin.
Gray eyes studied her, making Lydia feel like nothing more than a brood mare at the market, being assessed by a buyer.
She almost expected him to grab her chin and inspect her teeth.
His clothing was made of tooled leather over an embroidered surcoat and gleaming mail armor, every inch calculated to give off an impression of power, wealth, confidence and ambition.
His eyes were cold, shrewd, and judgmental, set in a mask of arrogance and cruelty that made her think of a viper watching a captive bird.
“Lydia, Lord Rory Cameron. Lord Cameron, my niece Lydia. I regret that I cannot promise that she is as pure as I once advertised, however…”
“Och, an’ what dae I care, if another man has broken her in?
So long as she’s nae carryin’ a bairn, ‘tis all tae the good. I’ll nae have tae deal with any o’ that virginal whining an’ crying.
‘Tis tiresome. An’ if she is carryin’ Ranald’s bastard…
” A cold smirk crossed his face. “Then there’s easy enough ways tae end that . ”
He crouched before her. “An herbal concoction… a little nightshade, perhaps… or…” His hand pressed lightly on her belly, and the touch made her skin crawl. “A more hands on approach… which has the benefit o’ bein’ an excellent lesson fer a headstrong lass.”
She felt sick, realizing that she could guess now what might have happened to Laird Cameron’s first bride. Her whole body felt almost frozen with fear, so much that she wasn’t sure she could have moved even if the ropes that bound her had magically disappeared.
“As you will.” Lord Cedric Wycliffe nodded curtly, and Lydia’s heart sank even further. For all his coldness, she’d thought her uncle might stop at actually condoning Laird Cameron’s cruelty and abuse.
She was alone, trapped with a man who cared nothing for her, and one who would happily hurt her, and probably enjoy doing so.