Page 29 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Hellion (Auctioned Highland Brides #4)

Lydia sat staring at her wedding dress, a numbness in her body that wouldn’t fade.

The sun was low in the sky, and if she was planning to leave, she would need to do so soon. She did not relish the thought of traveling through Scotland at night.

Rubbing her thumb over her palm, she willed herself to get up and collect her things, but the act of moving felt harder than ever.

I never thought it would be so difficult to leave this place.

She wondered how the twins must be feeling, traveling away from their home for the first time.

Moira had been so confident, so forthright in what she had said to Callum.

Can we trust that she will keep her word and return the girls if I leave?

The way Moira had looked at Callum made Lydia’s blood boil. It had been predatory, proprietary, as if she had every right to stand before him and make threats.

Lydia rose, dragging the trunk from beneath the bed and throwing open the lid with a loud bang. She stared at the base of it, where her muslin gowns were still folded neatly in place, untouched.

When she left London, she had been eager to cast off the shackles of society, of the world that her father would gladly have forced her to endure forever. She had packed barely anything, wishing to forget the life she had lived before.

Now, she would have liked to pack everything into her case, every gown Callum had bought her. She loved them all.

Love.

The word would have felt alien to her only a few days before, but now it was truer than anything she had ever felt.

How cruel it was to finally be able to realize her feelings for her husband just at the moment when she had to leave him.

Callum had been honest with her, telling her that he did not need a wife and had no use for anything other than a nursemaid for his children. Still, foolishly, she had hoped perhaps…

Lydia sighed, glancing at the adjoining door to Callum’s room. To walk through it in the dead of night had been one of the boldest things she had ever done.

She had not known what to expect or what she wanted. Only that she did not wish to be alone. The pleasure that had followed had been just as unexpected as the safety she had felt in his presence.

Would he really touch me like that if he did not care?

She picked up the wedding dress, holding it close to her body, allowing her eyes to roam over the beautiful embroidery across the fabric one more time.

The dress was inappropriate for the drawing rooms of London. Too ostentatious, too large, and if she had worn it in the drawing rooms of her peers, there was no doubt she would have been sneered at.

But she could not bring herself to leave it behind. It had the scent of Scotland in the threads, the smell of leather that lingered around Callum whenever he was near.

She folded it neatly, placing it into the trunk, almost secretively, covering it over with another dress to hide it away.

In a few days’ time, will this be nothing more than a memory?

Her gut clenched. The marriage was not consummated. If he so chose, Callum could annul it without challenge.

Will he do it? Will he be able to forget me so easily?

Lydia shivered, swallowing around the lump that formed in her throat. She hated the thought of him choosing another woman, for him to rise every morning and not think of her at all.

She moved to her dressing table, collecting her jewelry box and the pins and brooches that she had worn since she arrived.

The castle felt ominously silent. There was no giggling from the twins, no pattering of tiny feet outside the door. Even the wind through the corridors seemed to have died down since their departure.

Sighing, she bundled the rest of her dresses into the trunk, wrapping the jewelry and her spare shoes beneath them, and closing the lid with a snap.

Ringing a bell for a servant, she waited until a young man came to her door.

“Take this down to the carriage, please.”

“M’Lady?”

“I am leaving. Please ensure that the servants who will accompany me are prepared for a long journey.”

He stared at her, eyebrows raised, before he nodded once and dragged the case from the room. There was a low grunt as he lifted it into his arms and took it down the steps. The room looked so empty without any of her things. She hated the sight of it.

Just before the door shut, there was a soft footfall from outside, and Kristen entered, looking about the bare room, her eyes filled with sadness.

“So, it is true,” she said solemnly. “Ye are leavin’?”

“I am,” Lydia stated clearly, sticking out her chin in defiance.

“Moira Lawson isnae someone who will stand by her word, M’Lady.”

“Be that as it may, but I have to try,” she said, her lips thinning. “Besides, I was not persuaded to act otherwise.”

Kristen shook her head. “That Laird. What are we to dae with him?” She rolled her eyes. “He reminds me of my Alexander.”

Lydia looked up. “How so?”

“Och, he was just the same when we first met. He didnae want me to ken he cared for me. Pretended to like plenty of other girls in the village. But then he only ever spent any time with me. I could tell he wasnae interested in anyone else.”

“How?”

“By the way he looked at me,” Kristen met her gaze, a smile tugging at her lips. “Callum looks at ye the same way. Dinnae let him fool ye, M’Lady. He doesnae want ye to leave.”

Lydia’s eyes moved to the door, a weight settling in her stomach.

“Then why is it you are here and not him?”

The faint smile on Kristen’s face faded, and she gave a half-shrug of frustration before shaking her head.

Lydia checked the room and went to her bedside table, collecting the book of poems that her mother had given her.

Holding the soft leather in her hand reminded her of all the books in the library that she was yet to read. The library where Callum had first shown her he cared for her—even in a small way.

Clutching the book against her chest, she left the room, Kristen following behind her as she descended the stairs.

She could hear the snort of the horses outside as the carriage pulled up and paused in the entrance hall, wondering if Callum might come to see her off.

But there was no movement from anywhere, save for the ghostly shapes of the servants at the edges of the room.

Lydia held back tears as she headed down the steps of the castle, Kristen standing at the top of the steps. The two women exchanged a brief embrace before she went down to the carriage.

As she reached it, two servants lifted her trunk onto the back shelf as the driver climbed up in position. Lydia looked up at the view ahead, staring into the distant hills that had felt so like her new home.

Clenching her fist, she put one hand on the door handle, extending her foot to climb into the dark space before her.

“Wait!”

Lydia’s heart stuttered as she turned to see Callum descending the steps. His léine was loose and flapping around him as the wind picked up, a pure triangle of skin visible through the untied string at the neck.

But as he approached her, his face was a mask of anger and pain.

“Take the carriage back inside!” he barked to the servants, who stood watching him, frozen in place.

“Do not follow that order,” Lydia said to them sharply, and the two men exchanged an uncertain glance.

“Ye willnae tell me how to command me own servants, woman, ye are nae leavin’ this castle.”

She crossed her arms over her chest.

At first, she had been elated that he was asking her to stay. But now it was obvious that this was not the case. He was commanding her to remain, giving her no agency or choice, just as her father did.

“Get back inside,” he snapped.

“And what would that achieve?”

“Ye cannae leave like this, Lydia. Be reasonable!”

“And why do you want me to stay?” she asked, a tiny tendril of hope unfurling inside her.

Tell me you care for me, that we can fight for the girls together. That we can fight Moira together. That we are partners.

“There is nay reason for ye to go!” Callum thundered.

“So, Moira’s threats mean nothing. You would allow her to keep the girls with her?”

“Of course nay.”

“And she has said she will not return them if I am here.”

“That is because she is a wicked, jealous woman.”

“Who has your nieces held captive!” Lydia spat. “When I am gone, she will release them, and you can care for them as you did before. She will leave you be.”

Callum looked up at the horizon, his dark eyes narrowing, his voice a low, ominous rumble.

“We dinnae ken that.”

“Is there any other reason you want me to stay?” she asked, as he finally turned back to her, a vein pulsing in his forehead.

“Ye are me wife.”

“In name only.”

Callum grimaced. “I explained what I need from ye.”

“What you need from me is a nursemaid for those girls. You have made it very clear that you and I do not have a real marriage, that we are not together in any real way. Once I am gone, you can find an appropriate Scottish bride who can live in your castle and care for them just as you wish.”

His big hands shot out, gripping her upper arms painfully as he lowered his head toward her.

“And what if I dinnae want that?”

“What do you want?” she asked.

Callum’s eyes widened, his grip loosening, as if he was not even sure himself.

Lydia’s eyes filled with tears as he struggled to find the right words, his mouth opening and closing in silence as she waited to hear him say what she longed to hear.

I love ye, I want ye to stay because I need ye here with me.

Callum’s eyes dropped to her mouth, his fingers tightening around her again as he battled against himself.

He lowered his head, and Lydia opened her mouth in anticipation of a kiss before he released her, stepping away with a long growl.

“Go then,” he snapped. “Go back to yer faither, and his balls and parties and find a husband in that bunch of simpletons. At least ye willnae be stared at wherever ye go for marryin’ a beast.”

Lydia’s jaw clenched. “You have never behaved more like a beast than you have today,” she said, her voice quivering with anger as he nodded to the coachman.

Other than the vein that was pulsing in his temple, he showed no outward sign of emotion. He was a wall of granite, cold and rigid.

Lydia shook her head, emotion overwhelming her as she stared up at the high stone walls behind him. She loved this castle, the lands around it, and the man before her. But it no longer mattered.

Callum’s eyes did not leave her as she climbed into the carriage, his fingers clenching and unclenching into fists, his jaw working angrily.

As she settled in her seat, he stepped forward, slamming the carriage door behind her. His hands stayed on the carriage window as his gaze met hers, the expression on his face impossible to read.

“Dinnae travel through the night,” he said stiffly, letting go of the door and stepping back.

He raised a hand, summoning a guard who climbed onto the back of the coach, his swords at the ready should anything befall her. For a moment, Callum didn’t move, his big hand rubbing at his chest, at a place over his heart.

Lydia could almost fool herself into thinking that it might ache as much as hers.

Callum looked down at her one final time, and she felt something break inside her.

“I hope you can allow yourself to be happy,” she said softly. Then Callum nodded to the driver, and the carriage moved off.

Lydia watched him standing beside the castle gates for several long minutes. He did not turn or move to go back inside, watching until she was out of sight.

And I will never see him again.