FREE! In The Arms of My Enemy (Completed!) Book 1

Sabotaging the Wedding

Fidelia gagged as she stuffed another clove of garlic into her mouth. It was her ninth thus far, and she had three more to go. She only hoped they would be enough as she fought the urge to spit the clove out. Oh, how it burned!

"I have a surprise for you . . ." Lottie opened the door to the tiny room and immediately started to gag. The captain had begun to shift the women around, trying to find the best configuration for sleeping arrangements, and Lottie's things had already been moved into the room closest to the deck stairs. Fidelia had used Lottie's cramped space for her wedding 'preparations.' She turned to look at Lottie, whose eyes had begun to stream from the choking scent of garlic breath.

"Oh— Oh my—" Lottie sputtered.

Fidelia grinned. "My plan is working, I see."

"Fi—" Lottie covered her mouth and nose as she glared at Fidelia. "What are you doing? Do you want your husband to jump off the boat on your wedding night?"

"That was the idea." Fidelia tried to bat her eyes coyly, but they were beginning to leak tears from the wretched smell as well. Perhaps nine was too many.

"You wicked girl!" Lottie scolded between coughs and gags, and her words stung Fidelia slightly. Fidelia was the elder sister, after all. Lottie had no right to scold.

Fidelia had stolen the cloves of garlic from the Eurydice's galley after she had seen Lord Greyville on deck looking quite pleased with himself. Her pride still stung after he had won their little verbal battle earlier, and she was determined to wipe that smug grin off his face.

As her tongue continued to burn and her stomach began churning, Fidelia wondered if she had made a mistake. But only briefly.

She refused to back down now. She couldn't even if she wanted to.

"Trust me. It's hurting me just as much as it will hurt him."

"I doubt my gift will do you any good now," Lottie said, disappointed.

Fidelia again felt a prick of guilt. Her sweet sister, who knew so little of the world, seemed to think this wedding was something out of a romance novel. She had even taken the time to get Fidelia something, and Fidelia ruined it by eating nine cloves of garlic? Perhaps she had taken things much too far.

"I . . . I'm sorry, Lottie, it's just . . . Marrying a man who is now a stranger to me and leaving Mamma's eatery behind wasn't exactly how I pictured my life." Fidelia shrugged and stepped forward to embrace her sister.

Lottie winced and stepped back, her face reddening. "I'm sorry that you must give up your freedom so that I may have mine. I never should've let you do this, Fidelia."

Fidelia's heart constricted, and she pulled her sister into a tight embrace. "I would do anything to keep you safe, Lottie, no matter the cost. Please forget my moping. I was being childish." She meant every word, but still she struggled to breathe each time she realized again that she was giving up control of her life. As the wife of Lord Greyville, even in name only, he could dictate where she would go and what she could do. Her hopes and dreams, all thoughts of running her mother's eatery . . . everything was dashed to pieces. It seemed the only thing she could control was eating those garlic cloves to make him just as miserable as she was. "Come now, Lottie. Show me your gift."

Lottie laughed, wiping at her eyes and nose before pulling out a small, rusted fork. "I know it is not a fancy hairbrush, but with enough patience, I can comb out your rat's nest."

Fidelia's eyes burned, but this time the tears were not from the gar­lic. "Oh, Lottie," she whispered. "It's the best gift anyone could ask for. To have you for a sister is better than a thousand golden brushes."