Romance: Duke Romance: The Duke’s Search for a Wife (Marriage Romance First Time Romance Historical Romance) (Royalty Wedding Regency Romance) (5 page)

BOOK: Romance: Duke Romance: The Duke’s Search for a Wife (Marriage Romance First Time Romance Historical Romance) (Royalty Wedding Regency Romance)
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Catharina’s brain struggled to translate all this. She thought he was saying that he didn’t get her out the ditch, but couldn’t be sure.

“But.. something pulled me out.. something big and kind of.. black”

“Summat eh? Not someone? Well. Maybe you had a tow from the wild cat then!”

The stranger guided her through the snow lined dirt track up to the dark looking cottage.

“Wild cat?” Catharina spun wildly around on her stiletto heels and nearly slipped in the snow that she was so delicately picking her way through.

She was sure she heard a stifled moan of exasperation, but could not have known of the frustrated burst that had just erupted in the man, to simply lift her over his shoulder and carry her into the cottage without all this messing about! However, the gentleman in him managed to quell this urge as quickly as it had arisen. Just.

Instead, he gripped her shoulders a little more tightly with his warm, thick fingers.

There was something to get hold of on her, at least, he noticed with approval. Then tried to banish that thought. All the same an energy ran all the way through him and tingled as it came into contact with her body. He was a stranger, so surely this level of intimacy was wrong, but it somehow felt right.

As he opened the door he ushered her onto a small two seater battered couch in the dark and set about lighting a candle.

She sat down, trying to pick out the shape of the room through the shadows as the flame flickered into life. His eyes were burning holes straight into hers. But instead of making her feel uncomfortable, it made her want to reach out to him.

This was crazy though, right?

In that instant, she didn’t know what had happened, but she was halfway across the room, by the coffee table, standing next to him, taking his hand and holding it tenderly.

And then he turned and kissed her, with an intensity she hadn’t been expecting and a sweetness she would never forget. The desire that she felt literally exploded all over her body right there and then. Madly, passionately and deeply she was kissing him all over like it was some kind of disease and he was the only cure.

His hand caressed her down to her brassiere and gently unhooked it. They were kissing furiously, angrily and she didn’t know how to make it stop. They didn’t want to make it stop.

But as suddenly as it had started it did do. He broke off abruptly, with a look of slight guilt in his eyes.

“I should let you, er…rest”

Then he disappeared out the room somewhere, leaving her sitting partly undressed on his couch sipping a brandy that had appeared from out of nowhere.

When he came back it was with two bowls full of something hot and steaming. She thought she smelt vegetables and meat.

They ate in an uncomfortable silence, although the stew was good.

As she chewed and digested, Catharina’s mind wandered to what had just happened in the ditch and what was real and what was fantasy. It was getting blurred.

But whatever creature it was that she had thought she had seen, she did not think it was any sort of cat, no matter how wild.

“You should get some sleep; the roads might be passable tomorrow.” Heath said, by way of trying to excuse himself.

“I’m Catharina by the way. Catharina Morgan” She said suddenly. It was about someone said something sensible.

“I’m Jack. Jack Heath, but everyone calls me Heath.” He said, and very formally they shook hands, like polite acquaintances at a frosty dinner party reception.

“Goodnight Catharina.” He said the armor in his dark eyes had come down hard again and now there was no chink of light into what machinations his heart might be. Then she watched as he headed up some steps – that weren’t much more than a ladder really – to a hidden upstairs where she supposed his bedroom was.

“Goodnight Heath.”

No whatever it had been was more like a bear.

*****

The embers burnt low in the hearth and flickered like blades about the room. Catharina had slept soundly for many hours but was suddenly and urgently awake and in desperate need of a pee.

In the dark she stumbled about, banging into things and stubbing her bastard bloody toe on everything and anything. With more than a shiver of nerves she steeled herself and finding the flashlight that he had left for her, picked her way delicately up the ladder to where she hoped the bathroom might be.

On the way back down she thought she heard the sound of an engine revving. And a headlight filled the room with momentary light. But it wasn’t a car, it was a bike.

That’s funny, she thought, there didn’t seem to be any other house around here for miles, so natural curiosity got the eventual better of her fear and she grabbed her shawl and stupid heels and headed for the door.

She stood and watched, the bright silver moon presiding over the crisp ice of the Yorkshire night – all the mist had now lifted and it was an extremely cold night.

Nothing to see here and silly of her to be standing about catching a chill in this temperature. Catharina was just about to open the door when another sound stopped her dead. It was like some sort of a growl.

Unable to see anything, she clutched the side of the cottage and peered around. There were scraping noises coming from along the road. Then another sound, but more muted this time and more like a moan. She was still not sure if it was human or an animal but it was incredibly eerie.

Of course there were bound to be things roaming the moors at this time of night – like a dog perhaps – did cats growl? The sound came again. Catharina pulled back and sharply inhaled the sharp winter air until it hurt her lungs as the snow caught thickly on her hair.

Didn’t really snow in England huh?

Against her better judgment Catharina decided that this required further investigation and trotted carefully across the snow laden road. Stilettos weren’t exactly ideal, but a lifetime of wearing them whilst carrying a few extra pounds meant she knew better than most how to balance nimbly and - added advantage - they were so tall they kept her feet dry.

A sight made her jaw drop wide open. A chink of moonlight revealed a shape – large, dark, but way too thick and tall to be human, dragging what looked like a huge sheet of metal across the dirt track road, pushing the snow along with it quite swiftly.

Very swiftly in fact, it moved remarkably quickly for something that was so big and lumbering. Although in the distance, it appeared to be moving towards her – at some speed. One thing was for certain, it sure wasn’t any cat!

For a moment, she froze in total horror, petrified in the full glare of the snowy road. She had walked further than she had thought away from the cottage, but now urgently wanted to get back there. Whatever this thing was it was advancing closely towards her. She grasped her flashlight and her purse tight to her person.

This was no dog, no cat and no human being. There, in the full light of the moon stood a huge grizzly bear.

Then she remembered something. That thing she was clutching so tightly, her purse. She opened it and reached inside and pulled out the pistol.

Never for one single minute had she thought she would ever need a gun, not here in England. Truth be told, she wasn’t overly keen on them at home, but her dad had insisted all of them, her mom and sisters all knew how to use firearms correctly. He had also been adamant about her having this pistol.

“But Daddy, it’s not like here, people just don’t own guns over there like here, there’s strict laws and stuff.” She’d argued, but it was to no avail. She found the paperwork mailed to her in the post the next day and, well, here she was locking and loading and preparing to shoot a bear on a desolate road in rural England.

“Go on – just – just shoo, buzz off” She said, to the bear, she knew obviously it couldn’t understand. Deep down, she couldn’t believe something with such sensitive brown eyes could be really about to cause her harm. However, she had enough experience with wildlife to know that your heart could not always be allowed to rule your head. Her father had taught her good on that score, at least.  

The bear just stood there, then, advanced towards her. Not in a threatening way, maybe, but she couldn’t take any chances.

She had not intended to cause the animal any distress – let alone hurt it - just fire a couple of warning shots to make it run away. But the gun unexpectedly went off just as she was loading it. Suddenly, the bear howled a terrible howl. She had hit it!

Shit! Shit! Shit! Blood dripped from its paw.

Then the moon disappeared behind a cloud and she could not see properly what she was doing. Time to retreat, definitely. Catharina started walking backwards through the snow, as fast as you can do in six inch heels. When the moon reappeared she could no longer see where the bear was. This was definitely not good.

With a stab of pure horror she saw a shape lying in the roadside where the bear had been. Bleeding, still, she had only glanced the edge of his paw though?

But this was no animal. This shape was clearly human.

A scream rose in Catharina’s throat, trying to airlessly force its way out of her gullet. What the actual fuck was happening. What was wrong with this place? With her? Was she having some sort of head trauma? She shot a bear, didn’t she?

The body was face down. Oh my God. What if he was dead?

Pure fear got the better of her but she steeled herself to go and check, when the man let out a sigh.

He was clearly not dead, but quite possibly pissed at her and still after her.

Not knowing what to think, Catharina ran as fast as humanely possible, anywhere, just anywhere to get away from him and to safety.

“Stop” He yelled loudly, but it was too late, she had gotten too far away from him already.

Still Catharina was not prepared to stop running. She might be on the larger side but she was far from unfit. She regularly surprised people by being able to out run them and generally being quite sporty.

By now she was quite lost and cursing the day she had ever set foot in Yorkshire. It was freezing, literally. Even if the adrenaline of the situation was at the moment keeping her heart pumping Catharina knew she was in danger from more just crazy bears and weird guys on moor sides. Hypothermia was a killer; she knew that well from winters in Maine.

A motorbike engine revved and over the top of the hill came a rider.

“Catharina!”

“Heath!” she screamed. She had never been more pleased to see another living being in her entire life.

“Jesus but you’re freezing.” He said, dismounting the bike. It was a cold night but he looked completely smoking hot, in black leathers. He removed the jacket he was wearing and placed it on her shoulders.

“C’mon”

He put his arm around her. Something warm dripped on to her white, frozen numbed hands. It was blood.

“You’re… oh my actual God I shot you didn’t I..?”

“Don’t worry, it’s just a cut. Come on.”

 

“But... but the bear...” She said. Standing aghast in the light of the moon, her dark hair hanging in ringlets, damped down by the constant snow. No matter how cold she was this needed sorting out, right now.

“He’s gone now. Well. Sort of, put away for the time being. I’ll keep him in check just for now in case you try and take any more pot shots at us!”

Catharina opened her mouth but failed to make any sound at all.

“I can’t lie to you Catharina. The bear is me and I am the bear. We are one.”

As Catharina imbibed snowflakes, Heath actually had the nerve to laugh at her.

“Come on, it’s not as crazy as it sounds, but I tell you what is – standing around on these moors waiting to catch the death of a cold.”

He climbed onto the bike, without murmuring she got on to the back and held on tight. He was warm and solid and safe. Bear or no bear, she was going with him.

*****

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. She didn’t do stuff like this. Usually. But there was nothing usual about that night, nor the day before it. She didn’t usually get run off the road, stay at a strangers house then discover they were a bear shifter, oh, and then shoot them for good measure.

They had spent the night deliciously entwined in Heath’s bed upstairs, a good solid wooden four poster. The freezing night air had been replaced by pure sweat and body heat. It wasn’t just the sex, but the physical feeling of being close to him. His body gave off a glow that she felt she could almost bask in.

But the next morning, she was slow to awaken and then found herself alone  - and late. Reality bit suddenly and extremely deeply.

There were places she was meant to be and people she needed to see.  Not only had she failed to show for the scheduled appointment but she had not even been able to call them to let them know about it. In blind panic she picked up her cell phone, but there was still no signal.

Cursing outwardly Catharina fell into a frenzied worry. Sally, her boss would be calling the police, James Bond, the Scots Guards and hell knows who else besides.

And God forbid that then word should then filter back to her roommate, her disappearance would be broadcast across Dulwich Hamlet and the east coast of USA before she even had chance to get dressed.

Her father would be on the phone to the goddamned FBI. Catharina shut her eyes she had to make that thought stop.

Her roommate, Ida, was the ultimate worry wort. She had once gotten the local neighborhood watch out for her after she had one too many in the pub and spent a few hours on a friend’s couch. She didn’t even sleep there the whole night! She had stumbled back late at half past one in the morning, on tiptoes, trying not to wake anyone, only to find some sort of incident room had replaced their kitchen, with two community support officers and the chairwoman of the residents association nodding seriously and poring over an unflattering photo of her with a face full of linguini.

She rolled her eyes at the memory and braced herself for the potential of something even worse being about to happen when she finally did reach town and check in with civilization.

 

 

“I told you I don’t know anything about any gunshot.” She heard Heath’s voice saying from the kitchen as she approached. Tentatively she stopped by the door, hesitating to go in.

Through the crack she spied a police officer in the kitchen, sort of tubby and all knowing. She sensed an atmosphere between the two of them.

“There wouldn’t be any firearms on the premise would there Heath?”

“Nope”

“How did you get that on your arm, looks nasty”

“Accident”

“With a gun was it?” He leered, pushing his spectacles up his pompous nose and puffing out quite a little beer gut.

“No.”

“Would you like to tell me how it happened?”

“Not really”

“Whose car is that out front?”

“None of your business”

“You know I could come back with a search warrant..”

“Great. Do that.”

“And if we find any trace of guns you’ll be in big trouble”

“Is this going anywhere or are you going to get the fuck out of my kitchen?”

The fat little man grinned slowly, pleased with himself. Without saying another word he retrieved his hat from the kitchen table, put it on and made to leave.

“Remember Heath, another five years.”

Then he went, shutting the door with a bang that let in an icy draught and flurry of snowflakes, leaving Heath shaking his head.

Catharina decided now was as good as any time to make an entrance.

“Hey, good morning” She said brightly, trying to make out like she hadn’t just seen this awkward scene, but she could hardly pretend that she didn’t see him getting into his panda car and driving off down the snowy track. The good news was that at least the roads seemed tractable this morning.

“Just a social call?” she asked casually.

Heath snorted and brought her over some coffee. Or at least something that bore the name of coffee but no resemblance to it in any meaningful sense.

Out of a sense of politeness she attempted to drink it although plug water through a sock couldn’t have been worse. The British and their obsession with instant coffee! Catharina was on a mission to convert England to proper coffee one person at a time.

He disappeared out of the room and then reappeared holding a very old and battered looking pair of boots.

“Here. They were me nan’s. I can give you a lift into the village if you like but you’ll have to be quick.”

“Alright then” She said, glad of the excuse to leave the pond water she was drinking and slipped on the gnarled old granny boots. They were a couple of sizes too large but she was forced to admit they would probably be better than freezing in stilettos again.

And that was that. Within minutes she was installed on the back of his bike, wearing his spare helmet and biking jacket, as if she had been doing it all her life.

It didn’t take long to get down to the village when you knew where you were actually going, Catharina conceded. It had seemed to take her about a hundred years to get to this place, though.

He stopped at a small biker shop on the high street that was apparently his.

“I only repair bikes really, but I might be able to get someone to take a look at that rust bucket of yours if you like.” He said.

She had to admit that this was a pretty smooth way of getting her cell phone number.

They parted with a kiss, which was rather perfunctory but still performed in all the necessary areas, lighting up her skin with a kind of buzz she wished wasn’t so incredibly moreish.

There was no real talking between them though, no discussion about the events of the previous night, nothing about him being a bear.

And definitely no explanation of what was meant of him going away for five years. Another five years.

Catharina frowned. Just who was Jack Heath?

*****

BOOK: Romance: Duke Romance: The Duke’s Search for a Wife (Marriage Romance First Time Romance Historical Romance) (Royalty Wedding Regency Romance)
12.39Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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