“Why am I still alive then?” Lydia demanded, her voice shaking despite her effort to steady it. “If ye want me dead so badly, why nae do it yerself?”
Sebastian’s smile widened.
“Och, me dear,” he said softly, “because death is only half the pleasure.”
Her stomach twisted as he crouched in front of her, lowering himself until they were nearly eye to eye. His breath smelled faintly of wine and damp earth, and Lydia found no deception in his words. This was truly his reason—pleasure. It amused him to see her like this. It amused him to know she was in his mercy.
“I kept the others alive only as long as necessary,” he went on conversationally. “They were… practical matters. Strategy. Remove the possibility of heirs, weaken the Laird’s position, let the council do the rest.”
Lydia’s blood ran colder with every word. She knew, of course, that Sebastian had killed all of Kieran’s previous wives. Everyone knew it now. But to hear him speak of it so casually, so callously, as though he did not have a concern in the world, sickened her to her stomach.
Three innocent women had died because of his ambition. Three innocent women had died because all he cared about was power, wealth, personal gain; a title.
“But ye?” He chuckled. “Ye’re different.”
Lydia swallowed hard, forcing herself to speak even when speaking aloud felt impossible. “Because of the bairn.”
“Aye.” His eyes flicked pointedly to her abdomen. “And because of Kieran.”
The name felt like a hand squeezing her heart.
“I want him to see it,” Sebastian continued, his voice almost gentle. “I want him to watch as the last thing he ever hoped for is taken from him. I want him to understand that all his strength, all his clever little plans, were never enough. This is nay longer about strategy.”
Lydia’s breath came shallow. She couldn’t understand how someone, especially a man who was close family, could even speak like this of another person. She couldn’t understand the depths of Sebastian’s hatred, the reasons behind it.
Greed—it was all greed. And yet, Lydia had never thought it was possible for a man to be so rapacious.
“Then what is it about?”
Sebastian’s expression hardened, the pleasant mask slipping just enough to reveal something ugly underneath.
“Revenge,” he said simply.
The word settled between them like a verdict.
“They chose him,” Sebastian went on, rising to his feet. “They chose a laddie who inherited ruin and dressed it up as virtue. They laughed at me behind closed doors, told me to be patient, told me me place was as his advisor. Well… let us see what they do once their golden laddie is so stricken with grief, he ruins it all.”
Lydia’s fear was a living thing in her chest, but beneath it, something steadier took root.
“They’ll come,” she said quietly.
Sebastian laughed outright. “Of course, they will. I’m countin’ on it. That is the point.”
Her pulse raced, but she clung to the image of Kieran’s face—grim, determined, unyielding—and to Elijah’s quiet strength. To Iris, organizing defenses with that fierce, practical focus she always wore in crisis.
They would not abandon her.
“I only regret one thing,” Sebastian added, almost thoughtfully.
Lydia’s throat tightened. “What?”
“That yer sister will worry,” he said with a shrug. “Family is such a weakness.”
Anger flared hot and sudden, burning through her fear. She twisted against the ropes that held her wrists, desperation clawing up her throat at the thought of something, anything, happening to Iris.
“Ye willnae touch her,” Lydia hissed.
Sebastian smiled again, unbothered. “We’ll see.”
