SCOTTISH ROMANCE: My Sinful Surrender to a Highlander Werewolf (Scottish Werewolf Pregnancy Romance) (Historical Medieval Shape Shifter Paranormal Science Fiction Short Stories) (133 page)
Authors: Fiona Knightingale
Out of the corner of her eye, Olivia watched the delicate young woman and shook her head slightly. She could not understand the beautiful young woman’s choice to marry her boss. He was a gray-haired, flabby, pig-headed drunkard who constantly yelled at everyone in the household. And Elizabeth seemed to take the brunt of it. They had been married almost two years now, and despite his every effort to force her, she had yet to produce an heir for his estate.
Olivia smirked to herself as an errant thought crept through her head. Perhaps Elizabeth’s body was rejecting Henry in a way that she could not. The cook was certain that it had been an arranged marriage. Elizabeth’s father had been the banker in town, and thusly had his choice of suitors when Elizabeth came of age. The wealthiest landowner in the area was an obvious choice on paper, and it was not allowed for the young lady to question the agreement that had been made. They had both been brought up in the proper British environments, and the arrangement did make sense on paper.
By the time Henry had returned from his meeting with the other landowners, Olivia had the dinner prepared. They dined on more of the same bread and cheese, along with slices of smoked ham, fresh green onions and ripe tomatoes from the vegetable garden, tart pickles, and slices of crisp apple from the grove down by the pond.
After they finished, Henry retired to his study with the bottle of whiskey. Elizabeth went to her bedroom to light her fireplace, and to cross stitch before retiring for the evening. She just hoped he would succumb to the effects of the alcohol before he wanted to try yet again, in his heavy-handed, demanding way, for a son.
William grinned as the wind ruffled his shaggy dark hair and he squinted his brown eyes against the sun. His horse, King, huffed at the dust in the air and pawed at the ground between the trees where they waited.
The tall, broad-shouldered man ran his hand down the horse’s whither and admired the well-muscled animal. He had always been a good companion and a faithful friend, even when William would talk his ear off with all sorts of random mutterings about the state of the countrymen he encountered.
William pitied the working man as he strained his back in fields that did not even belong to him, and he detested the nobleman who cracked the whip over that back. He much preferred his life, not that it was ever much of a choice, but he could not imagine answering to either master -- the field that demanded so much or the landowner who demanded even more. Some would envy him his freedom, but some would pity him for his lack of roots.
His band of friends would be meeting up soon, in the clearing just on the other side of the pond, and he knew he should get going. But he did love these fall days, when the sun was still warm but the wind had started to whisper of the winter chill. He did hope that one of the men had found some food that day, because the rumbling in his stomach was starting to irritate him.
He mounted the horse and urged him into a walk. He loved to tell people that he had named the horse King, so that he would always be in the company of royalty wherever he went. They were planning an outing for some time in the next few days, and he was looking forward to the adventure and hopefully the spoils of their personal private war. He liked to think that they were raging against the heavy-handed nobility, but some of their group simply did it for the fight and the gold.
Some of their party rode on horseback while others traveled on foot. It gave the group an advantage overall, with more flexibility in their approach, and easier to split up after the fact. William liked the speed he gained from King, and he could carry more when the need demanded.
As he approached the pond, his watchful and trained eyes noticed the gathering group of bedraggled and battle-scarred men on the other side. He grinned at the sight of his nomad family and prodded King to move faster. He tended to be the leader of the group, not by any formal decision or acknowledgement, but by the sheer force of his personality and experience.
The wind ruffled his dark hair again and he shook a stray curl from his eyes. The men waved and beckoned to him when they caught sight of him, and King broke into a run at pressure of his heels. When he arrived at the group, he dismounted and walked King to the pond for a drink before grabbing an apple from the tree above him, settling into the grass with his back up against the trunk.
“The shopkeeper in town was kind enough to
loan
us this,” one man grinned as he leaned over to hand William a bundle of brown paper.
His mouth watered when William unwrapped it and found generous chunks of buttered bread. He tried to eat it slowly and savor the taste, but his hunger won the battle and he ended up scarfing it down along with the borrowed apple.
“Many thanks,” he mumbled in a voice muffled by the first meal he had had in over a day.
As William ate, the others finalized their plan. It seemed that the owner of the land they rested on was going to be away for some sort of business the next day, so it was the ideal time. The landowner usually traveled with his protective guard, which would leave the house and lands unprotected, save a few servants and the field workers. It was always easier to take on the wife and the handmaidens, than the homeowner and his private soldiers.
William nodded his approval enthusiastically, and looked around the group for a telltale flask to wash down his dinner. A hand appeared above his head and he gratefully accepted the offer of ale.
The group had no real intentions in mind when they had chosen this estate to plunder. It seemed generous and wealthy, and almost assuredly had something for everyone. Some of the men were looking for gold and jewels, others searched for women to assault. One or two of them always checked the stables for extra horses. And nearly always the youngest of the group, a boy of about 13 or so, was assigned to the kitchen and larder for anything he could grab easily.
Full and content, the men all settled into the clearing and grove for the evening. And it was a good spot to call home for the night, with the protection of the trees, and the water for the horses. They wanted to be alert and nearby as soon as the man left his castle so they could move in and move on.
William and his band were up with the sun, splashing cold water over their faces and finishing up the last of the food that had been borrowed in town. They each checked their weapons and clapped each other on the shoulders for support. There was always a risk in these raiding parties, but so far they had been lucky to escape serious injury or capture.
Inside the estate, Elizabeth’s attendant had returned from her day off and was rousing her for breakfast. The dogs were making more noise than usual, so Elizabeth got up more quickly than since she was already half-awake anyway.
The young woman, Mary, helped Elizabeth dress for the day and twisted her hair into the topknot before cinching her into the corset and dress. Breakfast was simple, hot tea and warm bread and fried eggs. Elizabeth dined with Henry that morning, as he slammed his meaty fist into the table and droned on about some deal he was going to make.
She knew how these transactions and dealings went down. Henry would go over to someone else’s estate, drink and eat all day, no doubt availing himself of a serving girl or two, and then some handshake agreement was made when the wine was finished and the girls were dismissed. She enjoyed the reprieve from his company and never minded if the agreements took more than one day.
Henry headed to the stables to pack up the carriage, and he rode off down the dirt road with his protective guard on horseback to flank the carriage. Elizabeth shook her head, wondering if he was really in need of that much protection, or whether it was simply a show of wealth and self-importance.
She had already been into town the day before, so probably had no need to return so quickly. She had to space out her spending for fear of Henry’s anger when he received the bill. She was almost certain that the shopkeepers inflated the prices anyway, and she did not need to bear the price for that.
As she chatted with Olivia, the cook, the noisy dogs out front picked up their chatter. They were baying and barking as something, but it could always have been a fox in the henhouse.
As Elizabeth headed upstairs to find something to occupy herself, she thought she heard a strange noise in back of the house. As she turned towards the window in her bedroom, she heard a door slam and she caught sight of a young boy darting towards the house through the vegetable garden, grabbing things off the vine as he ran.
A scream from downstairs made her whirl away from the window and dart across the room to shut her door. She tried to close it silently and to slide the bolt without making that screeching noise, but she was unsuccessful. She had to decide whether to bolt the door loudly or whether to leave it unlocked silently. She bolted it despite the metal on metal screeching, and ran to the corner of the room to crouch between her needlepoint easel and the stone wall.
Elizabeth could hear movement and rustling from everywhere in the house as she hid. Muffled voices snuck through the cracks in the stones but she did not recognize any of the voices, but they were all male. She was worried for Olivia and felt terrible she had left her alone downstairs in the kitchen.
She could hear footsteps outside of her room and she held her breath, hoping that no one would think to open one small unmarked wooden door. The door rattled in its hinges as someone tried to open it and she knew she was discovered. The raiding party would, of course, want inside the one locked door. She cursed herself silently for not leaving it unlocked.
William grinned to himself. There was something that warranted protecting behind the locked door, he was certain of that fact. All of the other doors he had tried were unlocked and the group had been helping themselves to clothing, blankets, and any kind of valuables they found. He had faith that the young boy was successful in the kitchen and they would dine well that evening.
Elizabeth gasped loudly when the door splintered at the lock as the heavy black boot crashed into it. William strode into the room as though he already owned it. The room was not the great treasure store he had hoped for; instead it was a simple bedroom. It was tidy, the bed was made and the curtains were pulled at the window and in the corner where the dresses were stored.
Elizabeth tried to pull herself into a smaller ball, the cold rough stones biting into her exposed upper back. William stopped his tour of the room and she could see a pair of dirty black boots resting just on the other side of the easel stand. She held her breath and prayed.
The stand rattled as he bumped it with his elbow and her breath escaped in a soft exhalation. The toes of the boots turned towards her and she felt her own eyes widen. With her breath held, her bosom threatened to escape from the top of her dress but the corset felt looser.
She exhaled loudly when suddenly a male face appeared above hers with a leering grin.
“Well hello there,” he boomed. “What are you doing on the floor?”
“I-I, Y-You, W-What…” she stuttered and gasped for breath. The thick Scottish brogue was difficult to understand, but she fully understood the implications of his presence.
His rough calloused hand grabbed her bare shoulder and hauled her up from the floor.
“I do believe I have found myself the missus,” he announced to no one.
“Unhand me, sir!” she became indignant at the rough treatment.
“Oh I think I caught me a prize. What kind of rogue would I be to let it go?”
He was strongly muscled and well over six feet tall, so he had no problems man-handling her onto his shoulder and carrying her out of the house. Olivia tried to block his path but he simply pushed her aside.
William tossed Elizabeth on her stomach over King’s back, and mounted the horse smoothly. Elizabeth was able to raise her head just enough to see Olivia screaming from the open kitchen door as the entire raiding party disappeared over the hill.
As King led the charge away from the estate, Elizabeth bucked and struggled on his back. William left one large firm hand on her lower back to hold her on the horse, and tried to steer King one-handed.