Page 73 of The Iron Earl

Revenge.

He’d married her for revenge.

Lachlan’s face, his form went blurry before her as the fact rolled through her body like a ship being launched, slamming into her gut and sending waves of devastation into every nerve.

It hadn’t been pity as she had suspected. It hadn’t been because he’d actually taken a liking to her.

No. Revenge pure and simple.

She’d always been her stepfather’s pawn to do with whatever he desired.

Now she was Lachlan’s pawn.

She’d figured it out as she retched behind the courtroom, the disparate pieces of the last weeks finally fitting snugly together.

She’d known her stepfather owned lands in Scotland. But she’d never imagined this—that he was the one that owned the lands Lachlan’s brother died on. Mr. Molson had her stepfather’s full authority to do whatever was necessary to handle the clearings of her stepfather’s lands. But it was her stepfather. His express order to clear the lands that had sent Jacob and an innocent family to their graves.

Revenge.

The word pulsated in her mind and with each breath her insides shriveled deeper into a dark abyss.

She’d thought Lachlan was an honorable man. She’d thought she’d been miraculously delivered to the one man that could see her. That could listen to her.

She’d been so stupid.

Lachlan only wanted her for revenge.

Revenge, and then what? He’d send her off to that dower house? Divorce her? When was he to do it? Maybe he’d just abandon her at Vinehill with its twisty corridors and people that spit on the ground as she walked past.

Or maybe he’d always planned to ruin her beyond the pale and then send her back to her stepfather.

Her stomach churned, threatening to upend itself.

She’d save him the blasted trouble.

Her sight out of focus for the blood that pounded in her head, she sent her feet flying, spinning and running as fast as she could along the path. The impact of every step ripped at the scabs on her feet, the leather of the boots scraping along her heels. Pain. But pain she couldn’t even feel, couldn’t place past the staggering crushing of her chest.

She didn’t even make it around the upcoming bend before Lachlan’s arm clamped around her middle and her feet swung out in front of her.

“Stop, Eva. For heaven’s sake, stop.”

She twisted in his arm, her hands curled into claws, pushing, shoving at him with all her strength.

It was nothing against his iron clamp on her.

It was never enough, her strength.

The searing fury of that fact sent her screeching, her hands swinging at him with every last drop of power she possessed.

It wasn’t enough.

It was never enough.

He withstood the onslaught, second after second, drawing her closer and closer to his body. Closer until the length of her was pressed against him, her arms wedged into submission between them.

“Stop.” The word was barked down at her, a growl so terrifying that she stilled, bracing herself.

Lachlan lifted his left hand, his thumb and forefinger gripping her chin and forcing her face upward.

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