Page 4 of Highlander Lord Of Vengeance (Highland Revenge Trilogy #3)

E sme barely touched her food at supper, her thoughts on the night ahead. Would she fail again and suffer a tongue lashing or worse would he raise his hand to her? Her stomach roiled at the frightening possibilities.

“You don’t eat,” her husband said, though sounded more like he accused.

“I’m no longer hungry, my lord,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t insist. She couldn’t bear to put a morsel of food in her mouth for fear her stomach would rebel.

“Then go to my bedchamber. I will be there shortly,” he ordered and turned away from her.

She did as he said, her legs growing heavier with each step she took. The weight of what lay ahead of her was almost too much to bear and by the time she reached her husband’s bedchamber she feared she couldn’t take another step.

Memories, though more like nightmares, flooded her thoughts when she entered the room.

Everything appeared overly large to her, the bed, the chests that sat against two walls, the single chair near the hearth, and…

she shivered. The shackles in the basket by the bed that her husband constantly threatened to use on her but hadn’t so far. Would that change tonight?

Not if she did her best to please him.

She hurried to ready herself for him, donning her garments as fast as she could and slipping on her nightdress, Gwen had brought to the room and left on the bed.

Then she used the footstool to climb into bed.

It was too high off the floor for her to get in it any other way.

She positioned herself in the center of the large bed, then pulled up her nightdress just below her hips and spread her legs.

He would be expecting her to be like that, ready for him to have his way with her, and she prayed this time all would go well.

She tried to relax but her heart was beating so fast that she feared it trembled the bed and her body was so tense, she worried a bone would break when he touched her.

She closed her eyes and ordered herself to calm down.

Soon the warmth of the room and her worries took their toll and sleep fluttered her eyes.

She dozed in a light sleep until she heard her husband’s heavy footfalls on the stone stairs. Her eyes sprang wide open, and her heart pounded in her chest. Then the door opened, and he walked in.

He came to a stop at the bottom of the bed and stared at her.

Had she done something wrong? Was her nightdress not up far enough or up too far? Should she apologize but for what?

“Go to sleep,” he ordered curtly. “I have no desire for you tonight, though you will remain in my bed.”

Esme was stunned but not relieved. Remaining in his bed meant that he could desire her at any time. What if he woke her during the night or demanded she submit to him in the morning? The thought of not knowing when his desire would strike made her more anxious than ever.

She pushed her nightdress down and slipped beneath the wool blanket, moving herself close to the edge of the bed, hoping to keep her distance from him.

She was about to turn away from him when she thought better of it.

It would be wiser of her to keep an eye on him in case he changed his mind.

She watched as he rid himself of his plaid, but left his shirt on, then he went to the hearth and stood in front of it, staring down at the flames.

He had the finest features she had ever seen on a man and his body more toned with muscles than most other men.

There was no denying why women found him desirable.

But it was his cruel nature that made it impossible to care for him.

She had tried, hoping her kindness would conquer his cruelty, but it seemed to feed it.

He took great pleasure in treating her badly, an entertainment of sort to him, and she wondered what would happen once he grew bored with her. What then would be her fate?

A yawn escaped her, and she turned on her side away from him only too glad to let sleep claim her and be free of her worrisome thoughts for a while.

Torrance dropped in the chair in front of the fire, worn out from the day.

It went easier than he expected, especially with the plan having been made in such haste.

In time, he felt decisions would be easy to come by and once he found what he was looking for, the matter could be settled and hopefully benefit all.

Though one problem haunted him. He turned and looked at the bed. What would he do with her? It was a question that troubled him, and he worried she would present the biggest problem to his plan.

Time.

He would give it time. He stretched himself out of the chair and walked over to the bed. His wife hugged the far edge of it and that was fine with him. She was better off there. He didn’t want her anywhere near him.

He got into bed and kept to his side, grateful for the large bed and closed his eyes prepared to be gone from the bed before his wife woke in the morning. The thought remained utmost in his mind as he fell asleep.

A sweet scent tickled his nose as Torrance woke, and he felt a pleasant warmth cradled against him. His arm closed around it drawing it closer to him and he ran his hand along it, enjoying the curving shape and soft feel—his eyes shot open.

His wife was cuddled against him, and she was awake, her eyes wide with shock and… fear.

He glared at her. “Go to your bedchamber and get dressed. Now!”

Esme scrambled out of bed, missing the footstool and falling hard on her bottom.

Torrance leaned over the bed and continued to glare at her. “You are the clumsiest woman I have ever known.”

“Aye, my lord,” Esme said and hurried to her feet with a wince and rushed to the door.

“Did you hurt yourself?” he yelled.

She didn’t stop. She yanked open the door and as she flew out of the room, she called out, “Nay, my lord.” And she wondered why he bothered to ask when he didn’t care a bit for her.

“Meet me in the Great Hall,” he yelled.

She raised her voice once again before reaching the stairs. “Aye, my lord.”

Once in her bedchamber, she took a much-needed breath.

She was still stunned that she woke to find herself cuddled against her husband, his arm around her, and his hand exploring along her back and down over her backside.

What shocked her even more was that as she woke, before her eyes opened, she felt a strange pleasure she wished to linger in.

Only for it to turn to fear, when she discovered her husband was the cause of it.

How had she felt pleasure in his arms? She shuddered at the terrible thought. Never. Not ever could she enjoy the touch of such a cruel man. But she had and it upset her.

She was grateful when Gwen arrived and helped her dress and plait her hair. She barely said a word to Gwen, and Esme guessed at what Gwen assumed and that upset her. She would spread the news that his lordship had done his duty last night and time would tell if his seed had taken root.

But no seed could root if it hadn’t been planted.

However, there was tonight and all the nights to follow. It would be so much easier if they coupled, and she got with child. Then he would leave her alone. A blessing for sure. After waking in his arms this morning, she believed there was a good chance that that might happen soon.

Once finished, Esme made her way to the Great Hall to find her husband already sitting at the dais, enjoying the morning meal.

“You took long enough,” Torrance snapped, then returned to his conversation with Brack who was sitting next to him.

She sat and ate, not much, but enough that her husband wouldn’t complain, though he wouldn’t know if she did or didn’t since he paid her little attention.

Tables were soon being cleared away as the few warriors who had taken their meal in the Great Hall departed. Surprisingly, the long wooden tables were once again set with food and drink.

Esme turned to her husband and quickly drew back, surprised that his face lingered so close to hers.

“You will remain by my side while clan members voice their grievances,” he ordered.

Esme nodded. “As you say, my lord.”

The Great Hall soon brimmed with murmurs and the occasional cough as clan members filtered in, uncertain what to expect.

It had been some time since Lord Torrance, feared for his unforgiving judgments, had opened the hall for grievances.

Curious glances passed between the people as they eyed the long wooden tables set with bread, cheese, meats, and clay jugs of ale, an oddity in itself.

But they dared not touch the food or drink unless permitted to do so.

All eyes focused on the center of the dais where Lord Torrance sat rigid, regal, and unbending. Brack stood to his side.

Esme remained seated beside him and kept her hands folded tightly in her lap, uncertain what she would witness here today, fairness or cruelty.

The first to approach was an elderly man with a limp, clutching his cap in trembling hands. “M’lord, it’s me root cellar. Neil’s goats broke in again. Ate half the stores I’d put by for winter.”

A younger man, tall and thick-necked, stepped forward nervously. “The latch broke, my lord.” He turned to the elderly man. “I’ve fixed the latch like promised, Angus.”

Torrance leaned slightly forward. “Have your goats done this before, Neil?”

Neil hesitated. “Aye, my lord… twice. But never this bad.”

Torrance’s dark eyes swept from Neil to Angus. “How many roots are left?”

“Not enough to see me through winter.”

Torrance rubbed his chin, giving the problem thought while the two men waited nervously to hear their fate.

Torrance looked to Neil and the man shrank back in fear. “You will reinforce the pen to keep the goats from ever wandering again, and you will replace Angus’s root loss with that of your own.”

“But I will not have enough to feed my family for winter,” Neil complained, and realizing he objected to Lord Torrance’s decision quickly tried to make amends. “Forgive me, my lord, but I have little ones to feed.”