Page 78 of A Bride By Morning
Press. Pull. Press. Pull.Lydia kept her motions slower now, so he would not see the movements in her shoulders. “Theponyatiya?” She forced herself to keep her gaze steady on his. “He said it does not allow family.”
Medvedev gave a nod. “No wives, no children.” Lydia held her breath as his blade lifted, touching her along the edge of the cheek. “Perhaps you comprehend why,kotik. Women like you leave avorvulnerable. Alyosha has fled from place to place, sent me all over this fucking country, all for you. And now here you are.” His blade slid across her skin, not yet drawing blood, but close enough to give Lydia a feel of its sharpened edge. “And I may as well be holding a blade to his heart, yes?”
The rope began to give. Rock lacerated Lydia’s hands, painful pricks that made her bleed, but she didn’t care. She kept rubbing:press, pull. Press, pull.She was so close now.
“But it’s not just you,kotik,” Medvedev continued. “Beautiful women are a temptation I can almost understand, and you are lovelier than most.” His lips pressed into a firm line, and his blade nicked her cheek. Lydia froze in place. “That Alyosha was a spy in my organization, working for this fucking English queen, is something I cannot forgive. Understand?”
Lydia was close. So close. Blood slicked her hands and wept from his blade’s nick at her cheek, but she kept rubbing. Already, she could sense that his polite facade was beginning to shift into something violent and deadly.
“What do you intend to do to me?” she asked Medvedev again. She didn’t care if her shoulders moved as she worked the rope—the quickness of her breath disguised her efforts. Her entire body was trembling now.
Medvedev watched his blade track down her cheekbone. “An eye for an eye first,kotik,” he said. Then his black gaze met hers. “And I’ll start with yours.”
He raised the blade once more . . .
And Lydia’s hands were finally free.
She didn’t hesitate—she slammed the palm of her hand into his throat. He choked and staggered back. Lydia scrambled to her feet and fled into the night. Rain battered her as she escaped the cave, soaking straight through her nightdress. She could barely see. Mist and rain saturated the atmosphere, but Lydia didn’t give a damn. She stumbled around the rocks to locate a place to hide, not caring that the plants, sticks, and pebbles sliced her bare feet. Her only thought was to survive.Live.
See Gabriel again.
She pressed her hands to the rocks, edging into a tight space where she could conceal herself from view. But then she heard it—horse hooves in the darkness. If it were one of Medvedev’s men, she’d be caught. And if it were Gabriel, she would have to sacrifice her hiding spot—and possibly her life. But it was her only chance; the mist was too thick, and Lydia’s husband would never find her in the haze.
She took the risk. “Gabriel!”
She heard the horse pause. Then a voice came that made her entire body shake with relief. “Lydia!”
“Gabriel!” She pushed out of the spot between the rocks. “Gabriel, I’m here! I’m—”
Someone grabbed her from behind, shoving a hand over her mouth. “I’m going to take both of your fucking eyes,kotik,” Medvedev hissed in her ear. His blade pressed to her throat.
“Lydia?”
Gabriel again, searching for her. She needed to call to him, but Medvedev was dragging her back, his grip firm over her lips. Finally, she managed to yank his hand away and bite down hard on a finger.
Medvedev’s abrupt, startled shout echoed in the night. Lydia used his surprise to her advantage: she struck her elbow into his stomach and smashed his knife hand into the rock behind her. His blade hit the ground, hidden by the shadows. He grabbed her again, ripping at her nightdress as she struggled.
She took her chances now that he was without his weapon.Survive. Survive. Fight!She clawed and hit and kicked. She twisted and slammed her knee between his legs. His sharp cry of pain was another signal sent through the mist.
Lydia yanked out of his grip and staggered forward—straight into Gabriel’s arms. She hadn’t even seen him through the brume.
His grip tightened. “Lydia?Lydia. Are you—” Gabriel’s attention redirected over her shoulder. “Medvedev.” His voice was cold as he gently shifted Lydia behind him.
Medvedev was on his feet. Somehow, he had managed to locate his knife. The weapon glinted in the moonlight as his eyes met Gabriel’s. “Alyosha.”
Gabriel’s hand found Lydia’s. “My name,” he said softly, “is Gabriel St. Clair. And my business with you ends tonight.”
A crack echoed through the darkness. Blood exploded across Medvedev’s face as he staggered back and collapsed.
Callihan emerged from the mist with a pistol in his grip. He looked over at Gabriel. “Thought you might like to get your wife home without wasting time on a fight,” he said, his voice almost flat. “It’s fucking cold out here.”
“I might have appreciated some warning,” Gabriel said, swiftly removing his greatcoat to place over Lydia’s shoulders. It was wet, but it gave her more cover than her soaked nightdress.
“Just doing what you hired me to do, boss,” Callihan replied with a sardonic grin.
Gabriel gave him a look and then returned his attention to Lydia. “You’re all right?” he whispered, his hands running down her body. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
Lydia shook her head, dazed. “No, I don’t think so.”
