Loving Lydia (Atlantic Divide)

by Saxon, Diane

  “What the fuck…!”

  Fury coursed through him as he watched her scramble to the other side of the bed and fling herself off. Her foot tangled in the sheet, and she fell as she tried to jump up and rush toward the bedroom door. He heard her yelp of pain, and instinct had him leap after her, throwing himself on top of her to stop her. Stop her from screaming, because there was obviously something wrong. Stop her from flailing, as she was in danger of hurting herself. Stop her from escaping, because he didn’t understand.

  Anger and confusion boiled together to give him extra strength when she struggled, to simply lie on top of her and hold her down until she ran out of steam. He stretched her arms above her head and waited her out as her slim body thrashed beneath his.

  Her breath soughed in and out of her chest. Her face was covered by her hair. It tangled and pinned her head to the floor. Although she stilled, she gave out the low feral growls of a cornered animal.

  “Are you done?” he hissed through his teeth. When she didn’t reply, he rapped her wrists against the floor. “I said, are … you … done?”

  “Yes.” He barely heard her, but he moved off her, his own breathing uneven. He sat on the floor, his back against his bed, his knees tucked up against his chest, and he watched her curl up into a fetal position, her arms wrapped around herself.

  “I don’t know what game you’re playing,” his voice trembled with fury and frustration, “but you could have said no at any stage, honey. You didn’t need to make me feel like shit just to fulfill some kind of sick fantasy of yours.” When she didn’t reply, he stood up and leaned over her. As she curled tighter, he grabbed her arms and jerked her up, putting his face close to hers.

  “Go and tidy yourself up. I’m not having your sister see you like this.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “When are you not sorry, Lydia? You use that goddamn phrase to exhaustion, so when you really need to apologize, it means nothing. Go.” He shoved her toward the bathroom, and then sat on the bed to hold his head in his hands.

  His hormones hadn’t yet caught up with the idea that nothing was going happen, and he bent over to relieve the pain he felt. He didn’t seem to be able to regulate his breathing. He wasn’t just in pain from his raging hormones; his chest was also squeezed tight. He didn’t know what the hell had happened; one minute he’d been ready to surge inside her and the next he’d been on his ass on the floor. He sat for what felt like an eternity listening to his own breathing trying to regulate itself.

  He glanced up as the bathroom door opened. She’d washed her smudged make-up off and tied her hair back with the broken strap from her dress.

  Her face wasn’t just pale, but gray, and as she checked her hair for stray strands, her eyes filled with tears. He didn’t need this right now. She’d already brought him to his knees. She was just about to make him crawl, and he had no idea why he would do that.

  Anger rolled off him in waves, confusion curdled in his stomach, and all he wanted to do was get rid of her before she ripped his heart out and fed it to the wolves. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she drew in a shaky breath, and the first tear spilled down her cheek.

  “He raped me.” Her voice was rusty and thick. It took a full minute for what she had said to sink in. When it did, he drew back and narrowed his eyes to take a closer look at her face.

  “My husband raped me … twice.” She swiped her fingers across her cheek to brush away the tears. “I got an injunction against him after the first time, but he came back and did it again.” Her voice gained strength, but her tears continued to flow. “He was violent anyway. I was so young, I didn’t realize that he was so controlling from the moment I met him. He encouraged me to leave home, turn my back on my family. He made me believe that he offered me freedom, but he isolated me. I felt I had no friends of my own, no family to turn to. He started abusing me physically after we’d been married for about…” She drew in a shaky breath, and his heart constricted, “…about two months. I let it go on for too long. When I told him I wanted to leave, he raped me.” She stood up straight as though she waited for him to say something, anything. He remained silent, trying to comprehend what the hell had just happened.

  “I haven’t had sex since then. I had therapy for a while.” She walked toward the bedroom door and glanced over her shoulder as she wandered through. “I apologize for leading you on. I had no idea I would react like that. I really, truly am sorry. I realize it was inexcusable.” He heard the muted sob as she started down the stairs, and her voice floated back up. “If you could take me back home now, please, I’d appreciate it.”

  His legs wouldn’t move. He was certain that if he stood up, they wouldn’t hold him. Thick oil rolled through his queasy stomach, and his brain felt slow and sluggish, like the morning after the night before. He didn’t know what to say to her. Didn’t know where to start. All he could think about was the terror she must have felt as he pinned her to the carpet, his heavy body pressed down on hers.

  She was stood in silence by the front door as she waited for him to come down the stairs, her eyes downcast. He desperately wanted to say something to make it better, but the words stuck in his throat. She wouldn’t want to hear anything right now, not from him. She’d said “no” and he’d taken no notice. He’d scared her to death.

  He drew up outside the ranch house. His eyes never met hers as she let herself out of the car. He left the headlights on and watched her walk away.

  Chapter 7

  Kate was pale and drawn when she plunked herself down at the breakfast table, but Lydia noticed she still took the time to have a close look at her. She knew she looked just as pale and drawn as her older sister. As they stared at each other in silence, Kate narrowed her eyes.

  “Good time last night?”

  Lydia knew Kate wouldn’t believe her if she told her it had been. The children were preoccupied playing in the yard where Lydia could keep an eye on them from the kitchen window. There were only the two of them in the kitchen, so Lydia sat down with a weary sigh opposite her sister.

  “Yes … and no. I got to play the sax.” She had enjoyed that, and it brought a small smile to her lips. At that point the date had been all it should have been and more, exciting, exhilarating.

  “But…?”

  “Kate … just now I can’t really talk about it.” She had no idea where to start. She stared at her older sister as tears swamped her eyes. “All I can say is … I told him about Greg raping me.”

  “And the rest…?”

  Lydia snorted derisively. “Don’t you think I gave him enough to think about?”

  “What did he say?” Kate’s voice was sharp and defensive. Lydia knew she meant the world to Kate and she’d always fight for her. She’d probably take Sam into a nice quiet corner and sort him out. But that wasn’t what she wanted. It wasn’t his fault.

  “He brought me back here.” She pushed her uneaten breakfast away and sighed heavily. “We won’t be seeing each other again.”

  “What’s wrong with the man? I’ll…”

  “No!” Lydia started, her voice sharp. She shook her head, softened her tone. She couldn’t let Kate defend her, not this time. “No. It’s not his fault. It was poorly done. I … left it too late to tell him.” She closed her weary eyes and rubbed her aching chest. She hadn’t wanted to go into detail, but the ball of misery in her stomach compelled her. “I only told him after things had gone too far. I mean, really too far. I had no idea I was going to react like that. No amount of counseling can help when that kind of terror takes over.” Frustrated, miserable, she stood up and paced over to the window to look across to the stables. Disgusted with herself, she shook her head.

  “God, I made it sound like an excuse.” Her heart had never felt this heavy. She felt the warm security as Kate wrapped her arm around her and stood beside her in silent support. Kate moved uneasily, and Lydia studied her for a moment as she realized her own misery had made her completely i
gnore Kate’s situation. Her skin was still pale, her mouth drawn a little tight as though she were uncomfortable.

  “Where’s Jack?”

  “He went in to work early. Something about coming home this afternoon, and then he can march me around the ranch until I go into labor. Honestly, Lydia, I don’t think I can bear it much longer.”

  “It’ll come when it’s ready.” Lydia rubbed Kate’s back with a soothing hand and Kate groaned with pleasure. “I’m not sure it’s going to take a march around for you to go into labor. You look very pale to me. Did you sleep last night?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Well, you go on back to bed. There’s nothing for you to do.”

  “I think I will.” Kate hugged her again. “Lydia, it’ll all work out in the end.”

  “Yeah.”

  * * * *

  He didn’t know what to do with himself except work. Hard, physical work. But it didn’t stop his brain from churning. He hadn’t slept a wink the night before, as a million thoughts raced through his mind. Hard work should have switched it off by now, but as he sat down on a hay bale for a few minutes to take a drink of coffee out of his flask, his gaze strayed over to the ranch house on the horizon.

  He wiped the sweat from his face with his bandanna. He’d chosen to fix fences today. It took him however far he chose to go, and it was solitary. He couldn’t be with anyone right now.

  He knew he was going to have to see her sometime soon, but what the hell was he supposed to say to her? He’d lay flat on top of her on the floor last night, his whole weight pressed down on her. He’d overpowered her with his superior strength until she’d gone still underneath him. He’d still been fully aroused, and she must have felt his erection as it push into her flesh. At that point he’d been confused, furious, and horny. His hormones had still wanted to tear her clothes off her, even though his mind had tried to catch up with what was happening.

  He stood up and walked impatiently down the fence line, his gloves in his back pocket, both hands rubbed through his hair. Stopping, he leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees. He felt winded. His chest hurt. His eyes stung. He’d felt that way since last night, and the mid-afternoon sun didn’t help.

  He knew he hadn’t hurt her physically. He was so much bigger than her. It had been easy to restrain her without hurting her. That hadn’t been a problem. It was the terror he’d put her through, mentally and emotionally. He hadn’t seen her eyes when he’d lain on top of her as her hair had covered her face, and he hadn’t been gentleman enough to move it. Maybe if he had, he would have seen then that she was destroyed. He hadn’t seen it until she’d stood in his bathroom doorway and baldly told him that she’d been raped. No detail, just facts and devastation.

  He slapped his hat back on his head and carried on. He couldn’t forgive himself, so how was he ever to expect her to forgive him? He glanced across the fields again and thought that even if he did go and see her, it would be difficult to get past that big sister of hers. Because she sure as shit knew about Lydia, and he’d bet his next paycheck that she now knew about last night.

  He pulled his gloves back on and tightened the fence wire across to the next post, all the time trying to figure out how to get Lydia on her own. If he went to the ranch house, her sister would protect her. If he climbed up the balcony again, she was likely to scream blue murder. He couldn’t imagine she was going to want another riding lesson off him anytime soon, so that was out of the question.

  His cell phone rang and he glanced down to see who the caller was. Jack. Well hell—that could be another problem. Kate just needed to send Jack out to beat the crap out of him. They hadn’t fought in years, not since they were teenagers. Sam was pretty sure he could take him, but then his heart wasn’t in it, and he doubtless deserved a good kicking.

  “Yep,” he answered.

  “Sam, where the hell are you? Katie’s gone into labor. We’re on our way to the hospital now.” There was a moment’s silence. “Sam?”

  “Yeah.” Sam thought for a moment. “Best of luck. Give Katie my love.” He heard the snort from her in the background; Jack had put him on loudspeaker. Oh yeah, she knew. “I’ll go over to the homestead later and stay the night until I hear from you about my new uncle status.”

  He heard Kate’s curses, and he couldn’t tell if it was because she was having a contraction or because she wanted to get her hands around his neck. “Katie, I’m going to make it right.” He was quiet and serious. Moments of static passed before he heard her voice.

  “You’d better, cowboy, or I’m coming to get you.”

  He didn’t doubt it.

  He needed to think this through. He’d been given a second chance to make it right with Lydia. He simply had to convince her that he’d never intended to hurt her and that he would never have pinned her down if he’d understood what had happened to her.

  He still wasn’t convinced about the whole matter of her not liking sex. She sure liked it when he kissed her, she liked being held, and she liked to touch him. If he took it real slow and gentle, he might still be able to convince her that sex wasn’t such a bad idea. First though, he needed to give her some breathing space, and then he had to get her alone, and finally, he had to get her to forgive him.

  * * * *

  How would he ever forgive her?

  She gazed out of her bedroom window. The children had been bathed and put to bed after she’d read them several stories. They were now asleep, and she was alone with her thoughts. Thoughts she’d tried to avoid all day. It wasn’t too difficult when you had two lively children bouncing all over the place and a sister who was obviously in slow labor to distract you. But the children were asleep now, and her sister had gone to the hospital. She’d had an early bath to divert herself and changed into her pajamas. Now, though, there was no escape and the thoughts came crowding in.

  It was bad enough she’d reacted the way she had. In fact, she couldn’t blame Sam for the confusion in his eyes when he’d been on top of her on the floor. He’d been so angry, but he hadn’t hurt her, there were no bruises, no tender spots.

  There had been no move to cause her any pain. He’d simply restrained her until she stopped thrashing. Her cheeks flamed as she cringed over her behavior. He must have thought she was a lunatic. Some kind of bunny boiler.

  She knew he’d been desperate to get her out the door, back to Kate’s and Jack’s house, but she’d gone and burdened him with the whole rape confession. He more than likely didn’t want to know about it. Why would he? He’d obviously been revolted by the entire episode. When she’d seen his blank stare, she thanked God she hadn’t told him everything.

  She wrapped her arms around herself and thought how dreadful that would have been. The humiliation of confessing that Greg had beaten her so badly that she’d been hospitalized for a month… That he’d been so drugged up that he’d never realized when she’d stopped fighting, when she’d lay almost comatose beneath his punches and kicks. That she’d almost died. That her sister had raised her children because she wasn’t capable of doing anything for months. That’s why they were so close. That’s why the twins thought of Kate as their second mother.

  It may have been Kate’s opinion that she should have told him the whole story, but she knew he wouldn’t have wanted to hear all that. He certainly wouldn’t want to hear the rest of it. It was as much as he could bear when she’d told him she’d been raped. She’d seen the dawning horror in his eyes. Some men couldn’t cope with the thought of a woman being raped. There was still that stigma of “she must have asked for it.” And women blamed themselves.

  She hadn’t blamed herself. She’d lived with the consequences, but she didn’t blame herself.

  With a heavy sigh, she leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the window, closed her eyes, and listened to the silence.

  “Lydia.” She heard his voice, soft and low.

  She turned slowly, not sure if he was just a figment of her imagination
conjured up by her messed up head. Her eyes met his briefly before they flickered to the children’s closed bedroom door and then back again. She didn’t need a confrontation. Her heartbeat had quickened, and she felt panic start to flood her veins, but if he disturbed her children, she was not going to be happy.

  He held up a hand in supplication and stepped into the room. His other hand came up to his lips.

  “Sshhh … Lydia. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She was silent as he stepped closer. She blinked slowly for a moment to clear away a fog, and then her left eyebrow shot up. He had to be kidding. What on earth would make him think she was afraid of him? She couldn’t think of a person less likely to want to hurt her. Irritation tainted her voice.

  “Of course you’re not going to hurt me. Why in God’s name would you believe I would think that? Come on in and stop…” She fluttered her hand at him. “…creeping around.”

  Confusion flickered across his face as he stared at her in silence. What had he expected? For her to cringe away and hug the drapes by the window like some feeble drama queen? She thought he knew her better than that. Quiet and shy she might be, but so far she didn’t think she’d shown any fear of him. He must have an overactive imagination if he thought he’d frightened her last night. Impatient to get it over with, whatever it was, she ground her teeth.

  “What do you want?” she challenged. His long, slow smile made her pause.

  He crossed over the room and sat on the side of the bed. She stayed where she was by the window and turned to face him, her arms crossed underneath her breasts, her hip shot forward, and her chin jutted out. What did he think he was doing making himself at home like that as though she’d welcomed him into her room? Now he was really starting to annoy her with his handsome face and his wide smile and his cute dimples.

  “I came to apologize.” Her jaw relaxed and her teeth stopped grinding, but her stance remained defensive as she eyed him with distrust

  “What for?” She had no idea why he would want to apologize. The fault had been entirely hers. She pulled in a breath, held it, waited.