Chapter 24

24

E wan leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the cloudy horizon. He didn't know which of the three ships in the bay Bridget was on, but he could guess. Lifting his thumb in front of him, he closed one eye and blotted out each of the boats.

There's nay way I could have made ye happy. Monsters dinnae get the damsels. To think differently would be a lie. Still, for one moment… I was… happy.

Ewan snatched the bottle of whiskey off the table and chugged it until the heat of the liquor seared his broken heart. Of course, it didn't drown out the pain. Not when Bridget's scent lingered on his shirt and threatened to taunt him with an image of her pinned against the stall.

With the new wave of emotions coursing through him, Ewan continued to chug the bottle, hoping he could drown out the voices around him.

"Where is he?" Ava's voice filled the small tavern and boomed over the chatter around him. The sudden silence in the room was eerie as every eye turned in his direction. "Seriously, Cousin? This is where I find ye?"

"Leave me be, woman," Ewan said, swatting away her hands as she tried to pull him out of his chair.

"Ye need to sober up, and fast. We have an issue," Ava said, the warning in her voice dulled by the copious amount of alcohol he had consumed.

"Have Logan get on it," Ewan slurred.

He noticed Ava reaching for the bottle and drew it behind his back before she could take it.

"This needs yer attention," she said, trying to wrest the bottle from his hand and losing.

Ewan glared at her, half challenging, half triumphant as he finished off the contents of the bottle.

"Will ye stop," Ava growled and knocked the bottle out of his hands. "Bridget is in trouble."

"How can that be when she's on a boat right now, sailin' back to England wit' her family? Tell me how I can do anythin' to help her now? And why would I want to? She's been nothin' but trouble since she arrived. And a fool. I dinnae ken how that woman has survived this world for as long as she has the way she is," Ewan slurred as the owner of the tavern rushed to clean the broken bits of the smashed bottle.

"Listen to me," Ava ordered as she grabbed Ewan by the collar. He smiled at her attempt to make him budge. "Bridget is in trouble. Her family is plottin' against her. If ye care for the lass, ye must do somethin'."

"And what would ye have me do?" Ewan asked as he removed her hands from his shirt. He rose from his chair and used the table to steady himself. The world wobbled, doubled, and swayed. "If she wanted me, she would have stayed."

"If ye asked her to, she would have," Ava snapped. "Dinnae ye dare put the blame on her. She showed ye nothin' but compassion and understandin' since the moment she got here. And what did ye do? Teased and tormented her. Toyed wit' her emotions because ye couldnae make up yer mind about what ye wanted. Well, ye ken what? Maybe ye dinnae deserve her—nae for the reasons ye think, but because when it came to the real battle, ye were the coward."

"Ye'll take those words back," Ewan growled.

"I willnae. I'm speakin' the truth, and ye ken it," Ava said as Ewan stumbled into a table, trying to clutch at her, only to crash to the ground and have the table fall on top of him.

All the patrons in the tavern turned to witness the scene. Ewan huffed with frustration as he shoved the table off him and struggled to his feet.

"She…" Ewan started to say but found his head too foggy to complete the thought.

"Bridget is sailin' to her doom. They're going to Gretna Green. Did ye hear me?" Ava said slowly to stress the gravity of the situation.

"And how do ye ken this?" Ewan asked as he rubbed his temples. "This is a ploy, is it nae? Ye're just tryin' to get me to leave the tavern. Ye think I'm goin' to lose me mind again, dinnae ye?"

Ava stepped closer until she shared the same air as him. Compassion and empathy rolled off her as she placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Ye did what ye had to do to save yer braither. Nay one blames ye for what ye did," she whispered. "And now ye have a chance to save another life. Will ye? Or will ye let yer pride and ego stop ye from doin' what is right?"

"What do ye ken?" Ewan huffed as he turned his back to her, eager to drown his sorrow in the half-empty bottle. "Nothin'. That's what."

"Ye think so?" Ava hissed as she grabbed the back of his shirt and spun him about.

The world wobbled and spun like a top until Ewan stared directly at her. Her eyes blazed with a fury Ewan had never seen before. It was as if she had become wrath and hell itself.

"Tell me then, Cousin, who bandaged ye up afterward? Who helped ye get things sorted with Logan?"

"Ye," Ewan conceded. "Does it make ye feel good to hear it? Do ye feel like ye finally bested me?"

"When are ye goin' to learn that life isnae a competition? Oh, damn yer faither for plantin' that thought in yer head. Listen to me, yer faither was wrong for pinnin' ye against Logan. Ye and I ken it was for more than just sport. Yer faither was a sick man. And I dinnae think that ye were in the wrong for killin' him. He deserved every ounce of yer ire for abusin' ye and Logan."

"Are ye finished? I dinnae care for a history lesson at the moment, so if ye willnae mind," Ewan said with a wave of his hand. "I'd like to pretend that the world is right as rain and get back to me business."

"Ye wretched fool. Ye cannae think ye can forget about someone like Bridget," Ava said, her voice laced with sympathy. Pursing her lips, she glared at him. "She's in yer bones, I can see it."

"Does it matter? Nay. She's gone, aye? Wit' that louse of a man."

"Did ye hear where they're headed? To Gretna Green ," Ava said slowly to make it sink into Ewan's thick skull.

"Let them go, what do I care?"

"I have a bad feeling about this. I think the Viscount is goin' to kill her," Ava said. The conviction in her voice rattled him.

"Come again?" Ewan asked as he arched an eyebrow.

"Ye didnae see the look in his eyes. He only cares about her dowry. Then he'll find a way to get rid of her. His expression…He looked almost like…"

"Like what?"

"Like yer father before he hurt someone."

She stepped back and glared at Ewan. He didn't know what to say, but he was never a man of many words. Actions, however, spoke louder than anything he could scream or shout. The need to protect and defend was overwhelming despite the effects of the whiskey in his system.

Turning to the window, he stared at the ships in the bay.

"Ready me the fastest ship," he demanded. "We set sail in half an hour."

"In just a few short hours, this whole mess will be behind us," Augusta said, fanning herself proudly. "You, my daughter, will finally be wed, and we can show our faces again. Do you have any idea the sort of scandal you caused?"

Bridget rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the ocean. With each crashing wave the ship plowed through, she tried to seal away one more memory of Ewan. The thought of giving him up completely terrified her. He was the only man to ever look at her like she was worthy of being cherished and not an object to be bartered.

"Wait," Bridget said as she turned to face her mother. "Hours? But it's at least a day's journey to the nearest town in England."

"What makes you think we are going back to England with you?" Augusta said with a giggle.

Bridget glanced at her father before she noticed Paul in the corner. Each of them had the same greedy gaze that made her skin crawl.

"I don't understand," she said as Augusta pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to her.

"Maybe this will clear things up a bit," Augusta said as Bridget slowly unfolded the paper.

The contract made Bridget's heart stutter and knocked the wind out of her.

"What is this?" The words scraped against her throat. Panic and fear overwhelmed her as the waves slammed against the boat.

"Your future," Paul said. "You see, we thought that you might not be inclined to marry."

But with her forged signature on the contract, she had no choice. According to the law, she was Paul's.

"You can't do this. I won't agree to this," Bridget snapped as she started to rip the contract.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Paul said with such conviction that it made her pause. "You see, unlike some people, I learn from my mistakes."

His beady eyes bored into hers, holding her captive as he advanced on her, stealthy as a snake. He snatched the contract from her hands before she even knew he'd taken it.

"You can't make me marry you," Bridget said.

"I already have," Paul answered. "With your parents as witnesses, and your signature on the document… well, it would seem the ceremony would be strictly for show. If you'd rather we didn't go through with the show, then we can get on with the consummation."

"Yes, well," Augusta said as she rose from her seat, "I think that is our sign to leave and let the newlyweds enjoy their time together."

"I want the wedding," Bridget blurted out. Anything to delay having Paul touch her.

"You say that, but do you really mean it?" Paul whispered, his teeth grazing her earlobe as he spoke. "I don't think you do. But here's a secret, I know I don't."

Before Bridget could back away from him, he grabbed her by the arm and drew her close.

"Unhand me," she demanded as she watched her parents exit the cabin.

Despite Paul being half Ewan's size, Bridget didn't have a chance at defending herself.

"I would, but you see, you have a reputation for being untrustworthy. And, well, I happen to be an educated man. I learn lessons quickly and will not be made a fool of again," Paul said as he stepped forward.

Bridget stepped back to avoid his touch. But there was no use, he'd cornered her.

Pressing her against the porthole, his lips curled sinisterly at the corners. "We will have the ceremony," he said, twisting his fingers around a lock of her hair. "Only because I need the witnesses. But I doubt you'll enjoy the honeymoon as much as I will. Then again, you might enjoy it. Tell me, did the northern savage season you for the rest of us?"

"How dare you," Bridget gasped, pulling her hand back.

Before she could hit him, Paul snatched her hand in midair. The smug smirk on his face widened.

"Is that the best you can do?" he asked.

Bridget lifted her knee and rammed it directly into his groin. His cry of sheer agony filled the cabin. Bridget knew if she was going to escape, this might be her only chance.

Swallowing hard, she mustered her courage and sprinted for the door. Despite the pain he was in, Paul reached out, snagging her by the ankle. She stumbled forward, unable to right herself.

Slamming into the closet, Bridget tried to grab onto the wall for support. Kicking Paul off her, she tried once again for the door.

"Not so fast," Paul hissed, throwing his arms around her and pulling her back into the cabin. "You're not going anywhere."

"Unhand me," Bridget said as the boat suddenly swayed.

The jolt was enough to cause Paul to lose his footing and crash into the chairs. With him on the ground, Bridget darted toward the door.

Before she could reach the handle, his fingers curled around her ankle again, holding her in place. She failed to move a single inch closer to the door as Paul pulled her back to him.

"Let me go. You don't even want me. Why are you doing this?" Bridget demanded as she struggled against his hold.

"Before our wedding, I thought I'd be happy with the dowry that your father was offering. It was a hefty sum. But then you had to go and humiliate me. I stood at that altar for twenty minutes as the crowd's whispers drove me mad," Paul snapped as he turned her around to face him. "Then it was the questions and the rumors. Some even said I had already hurt you. And it got me thinking. I could marry you, get the money that your father promised, and then cut you out completely without anyone being any the wiser. And it dawned on me how your stunt made this all possible."

"I don't understand," Bridget said, uncertain she wanted to hear any more vile lies spill from his lips.

"Of course you don't," Paul said, trailing his hand down her face. "That's why my plan will work."

"My parents will see you hanged," Bridget said, her voice quaking just enough for her to notice.

She could only hope Paul didn't pick up on the uncertainty seeping into her tone.

"Your parents want nothing to do with you once we are married. It's the whole reason we'll be going to Gretna Green. The sooner we get this done, the sooner my life can begin."

"You'd toss me out without a second thought?" Bridget asked, her breath coming in quick bursts. Confusion and panic swirled in her head.

"And let you run back to your Scottish friend? You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Paul hissed, his ire rising to the surface. Grabbing her by the wrists, he pinned her hands above her head. "Maybe if you knew what you were missing, you'd be singing a different tune."

"No, I won't allow this, I won't!" Bridget screamed as she thrashed to free herself from his constricting grip. The boat rocked again, throwing both of them to the ground. "Get off me!"

The sound of wood groaning under intense pressure filled the cabin, and a sudden explosion violently rocked the ship. Bridget looked at the door while Paul held onto her as if she was his saving grace.

"I'll nae tell ye again, take yer hands off her or lose them."