warned her about. It never came. Nathanial, instead, let go of her completely.
“Never lie to me again.” He said harshly before swimming back to dry land and disappearing from view.
In deep shock, Lydia clung to the rock in the water. The undeniable realization finally slapped her hard across the face: she was a game to Laird Garrison. A game and nothing more.
Nathanial walked back to camp hating himself. What in god’s name had he just done? He should have made love to her. He should have held her and said all those pretty words women needed to hear. He should have made her his instead of proving a point.
Nathanial thought about this for nearly an hour, telling himself to go back and make it right. It wasn’t too late to make things better and make her his. By the time he was ready to do so, Lydia was walking back to camp. Her tear streaked face refused to even look his way. She immediately lay down next to Teresa and forced her eyes closed. Now, Nathanial knew, it was too late. Lydia would surely not be talking to him in the morning.
Chapter Six
The horrifying realization that Lydia might, in fact, never talk to him again, hit him in the early hours of the morning when he awoke to her no longer being there. Nathanial prided himself on being a light sleeper. There was no way to survive the Highlands without that skill.
In the early hours of the morning, Nathanial opened his eyes and immediately regretted the night before. Again. He was going to have to do something about it; and he promised himself he would. Nathanial went to the lake to take care of his morning routine and dress in his plaid. Within the hour they would be in friendlier territory, a territory that did not take to men riding around in the hack he was forced to in England. He was a Highland Laird, and would never give opportunity to those around him to think he was weak, like the English.
Nathanial would need to make sure the women dressed in his plaid as well. Teresa would have no trouble traveling through hostile lands. She was old and would be of no interest to most men, he knew. Lydia, on the other hand, would definitely pose a threat for him. Best that she wear his plaid for the rest of the journey, and squelch any ideas men out there might have. There was equal dread and amusement when he realized that plaid would not stop him, especially if Lydia was involved. The rest of this journey was going to be hell.
Nathanial made it back to camp as Teresa was packing her belongings. “Did you make up, then?” Teresa asked. Nathanial noticed Lydia’s absence then.
“Where is she?” Nathanial knew the answer already.
“I thought she was with you—“ Teresa’s words trailed off as Nathanial raged into the woods.
“Lydia!” He called out. No answer. Not that she would answer if she was still there, he knew. His next move was critical. He had to find out where she had gone. How could he even be sure he was heading in the right direction? Had she actually left him and gone off on her own? The thought only briefly fluttered into his mind. He had his answer, and stopped cold, when he saw her dress in a messy pile a few yards in front of him. Nathanial closed his eyes in pure exasperation of the woman. She’d meant what she said. Lydia was not going to stay with him.
Nathanial let out a chilling roar as he reached for her proper riding dress. He saw it then. Long strands of black hair in a pile next to the dress. Rage boiled inside of him. She’d cut off her hair.
Nathanial made it back to the camp, furious and hell bent on bringing her back to him. Teresa was taking inventory of their belongings.
“What’s missing?” Nathanial could not believe the gruffness in his voice. He needed to calm down before someone suffered for it.
“Her belongings only, and…” Teresa thought better of continuing her words when his eyes, like daggers, flew to her face. “An old blade of mine. And the plaid you laid out for