SCOTTISH ROMANCE: My Sinful Surrender to a Highlander Werewolf (Scottish Werewolf Pregnancy Romance) (Historical Medieval Shape Shifter Paranormal Science Fiction Short Stories) (148 page)

Her warm breath tickled and tempted his hips to keep moving, but he willed them to be still.  He slid to one side and cupped her body into his, pulling the blanket back over them.

“What would you like to do with the rest of your day?” he grinned down at her.

She reached up and delicately brushed a stray curl from his forehead.

“You tell me, my husband.”

He rested his head next to hers on the pillow, and exhaled slowly.

“Nothing but this.”

Chapter Eight

Over the next few weeks, winter crept up on the house, and the clansmen saw very little of Dylan or Victoria.  They laughed at their own raunchy jokes about the newlyweds, but did not begrudge Dylan one moment of happiness or pleasure.  The tiny blonde woman, when she did join them for meals or evening chats, had turned out to be quite the lively addition to the family, and had been accepted genuinely.

One evening, the family was gathered by the large fireplace in the dining hall after dinner when Dylan and Victoria strolled into the room.

“Aye, taking a break, are we?”

Dylan smirked in the speaker’s direction, “You should be so lucky as to find a bride as enthusiastic.”

Victoria laughed along with the crowd, growing more accustomed to their off-color jokes, and learning to like their easy banter and welcoming warmth.

“My husband made me hungry, that’s all,” she taunted back.

The house servant in the corner of the room scurried off to make two plates for the estate owner and his wife.  She returned quickly with bowls of potato soup and plates of smoked ham and sliced cheese.

The men chuckled as Victoria inhaled the food, “This girl will eat us into the poorhouse, my good fellow.”

“I like a girl with an appetite, as long as the appetite always includes me.”

Dylan pulled Victoria on top his lap and roughly kissed her lips, eliciting a moan only he could hear.  And despite their lovemaking from just an hour ago, he felt that stirring in his groin that she seemed to relish.  Under the cover of her skirts, she wriggled her hips a little against him and he nipped her lower lip between his teeth.

She knew exactly what they would be doing back in their bedroom shortly, but first she wanted to enjoy the company of her new family.  Two of the men nudged each other, and one dashed off only to return with a platter full of tiny cups brimming with amber liquid.

“Time to show her what being a Scot is really about,” they grinned at the group conspiratorially.

She eyed the platter suspiciously but looked to her husband, who was chuckling along with the group.

Each person received their own tiny cup and as Victoria sniffed hers, she sneezed.  The group laughed and Dylan patted her knee as she stayed on his lap.  The men gulped the liquid down all in one swallow, but Dylan urged her to just sip it.

Victoria took a small sip and coughed loudly as the liquid burned her throat.

“You Scots are trying to kill me!” she wheezed.

The group fell about themselves laughing and slapping Dylan’s shoulders.

“That’s some good Scotch,” Dylan laughed.  “You’ll get used to it.  Try exhaling before you sip.”

She tried once more, convinced her husband was in on the murder plot, but she exhaled as she sipped and it was a much different experience.  This time, the heat warmed her throat and filled her belly and she beamed proudly at the group.

“That’sa girl,” Dylan grinned, sliding his arm around her slim waist.

After about a third of her glass was gone, she looked up to find the room spinning and the fire seemed to be expanding out of the hearth.

“I think I’ve had enough,” she whispered loudly into Dylan’s ear.

“That’s my cue, boys,” he crowed and scooped his wife up in his arms.  “See you in the morning!”

As he strode up the staircase with his tipsy wife in his arms, he bent down and kissed her firmly.  She sighed softly and leaned into his embrace.

“Dylan?  Can we again?”

He kissed her harder in response and quickened his steps to their bedroom.

Their clothing came off in a flurry of cotton and they both snuggled under the quilt quickly.  Dylan’s hands roamed freely over her skin and she arched towards his body.  The heat from the Scotch already made her body warm from the inside, and his rough hands only enflamed her desire.

In her tipsiness, she offered a confession to Dylan.  “I was scared to come marry you, you know.”

His teeth nipped her neck as his fingers teased her tight rosebud nipples.

“Scared of little ol’ me?” he chuckled as he raked his nails lightly down her tummy.

“You aren’t little at all, you’re enormoush!” she proclaimed, slurring slightly.

“What every man has always longed to hear,” he basked in her unintended compliment.

In one smooth motion, Dylan lay down on his back and pulled his beautiful naked wife on top of him.  She braced her palms against his broad chest and sat up to look down at him.

“We can do it like this?”  Her voice was husky as she winked at him.

“I’ll show you...”

He reached up to cover her full breasts with his palms, and slid his hands down over her waist to rest on her hips.  He carefully guided her up into the air slightly, and then with a shift of his hips, he brought her back down on top of him.

As her body slid down to envelop his hard cock, she gasped and moaned, letting her head fall back and her eyes drift closed.  He held her down against himself and drove his hips up.  Her body fit him like a velvet glove and he slid himself back out only to hurry back in.  Over and over, his arm muscles twitched as he guided her petite frame up and down his cock until she let out a long low wail and shuddered on top of him.  He grunted deep in his chest and released into her.  She could feel each twitch and spurt and her own body seemed to absorb each motion and every drop.

She finally collapsed on top of him, panting for breath and grinning in the dark.

“The rest of my life?  Right here?”

“If you can handle it…” he smiled into her unruly blonde curls.

He cradled her next to his warm body as they drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Nine

As it always does, eventually the spring sunshine chased away the winter’s snow and cold and gloom.  Victoria reveled in the Scottish countryside as it started to turn green and the little blossoms popped out on the trees and bushes.

Abigail was more and more attentive, and Victoria was becoming annoyed.  She was starting to feel like the petulant little girl that she had finally left behind. 
Have you written your parents?
  It was the same conversation every time.  Not yet, there will be time, and I will see them beforehand.

Dylan spent his evenings parading around the dining hall, virtually patting himself on the back.  Victoria would simply roll her eyes and reach for another piece of bread.  She knew that eventually her father would make his way to Dylan’s castle to discuss the spring and summer trade, and she hoped her mother would join him on the trip.

By mid-April, the vegetable garden was well underway and the fields seemed thick with tiny baby lambs.  Victoria loved to put on her oldest house dress and chase them through the meadows until Abigail hollered for her to stop.

One morning, Victoria was getting ready in her room and Dylan stopped by after checking something with the horses.

She sat at her vanity, her dressing gown clinging to her damp body and her blonde hair hanging in a wet curtain down her back.

“Excuse us,” he muttered gruffly to Abigail.

She rolled her eyes and left the room in a huff.

“Better and better each time I see you,” he murmured against her neck.

Victoria giggled, “When do we have to stop?”

“Never!” he crowed.

She took his large hands and rested them on her swollen belly.

“We’ll have to stop sometime.  You’ll dent his head with the way you take me.”

He slid his hands up to her ripe breasts and groaned softly.

“Sometime, but not today.”

An hour later, Victoria was still not dressed and now her freshly washed hair was a frightful mess but her cheeks glowed a happy pink.

“Dylan, I look like a vagabond!  My parents will be here by supper!”

He sat her up in front of him and leaned over to pick up her silver hair brush.  Softly and gently, he started combing it down her back until it fell into the soft waves that ticked his bare chest.

“Now Abigail can fix it up,” he smiled down at her face as she turned to wink at him.

Abigail returned when Dylan left and was able to braid Victoria’s hair down her back with relative ease.

While Dylan headed downstairs to meet the arriving caravan, Abigail helped Victoria dress for seeing her parents.  As Victoria rested in one of the large chairs with her eyes closed, she heard a loud gasp from the doorway.

When she opened her eyes and looked, her mother Lydia was rushing towards her as she struggled to stand.

“Oh m’dear!  Look at you!  I had no idea!”

Victoria beamed, “We just kept trying and trying, and it finally worked.”

Lydia’s cheeks flushed pink and she giggled.

When Victoria and her mother strolled down the staircase, Andrew looked up with a start at his swollen expectant daughter.

“Someday, father dear, your estate will all be owned by this proud Scotsman here,” she pronounced proudly as she patted her tummy.

THE END

The Highlander’s Mail Order Bride

Chapter one

My family has always given me nothing, but the best. I don’t know any way to live that doesn’t include all the privileges that come from having a wealthy background. England is on the cusp of becoming a great nation onto itself. We have several boats that go out frequently to do trading and find the necessary resources to make this growing community better than what it was. I wanted to be a part of that. The Kensington name was synonymous with greatness. We were known, as humanitarians, business owners and those that were willing to make the tough decisions.

“Elizabeth, as your brother, I forbid you to go out with him. He is uncouth, he doesn’t shave and his family are farmers. What are our parents going to say when they find out that you are slumming it with a farm boy? I don’t want to do this, but I think that it’s my right, as your brother to put my foot down. Stop this madness, before it goes any further. We are aristocrats and we do not sully our good name with those that are commoners.” My brother Richard has always had my back. I think deep down he knows that I’m the one that is going to give this family a baby to carry on the name.

“Just because you had a string of disastrous relationships, doesn’t make you an expert on love. In fact I think it’s just the opposite. How am I supposed to trust your judgment, when all you can do is find some young thing and defile her? What makes you an expert on my love life? If it’s all the same to you, I would like you to stay out of my business. If you even hint at telling our parents, then I’ll have no choice, but to blab your little secret.” He knew exactly what I was talking about and it didn’t look like he wanted any part of that.

“If you don’t want to do it for me, then do it for our parents. They will be a laughingstock if it gets out that you have been having relations with those that are below you.” I could understand his reasoning, but I couldn’t stop, even if I wanted to. He was underneath my skin and Henry had a way of making me feel like a natural woman. I didn’t have to put on airs and I could be myself. I wasn’t sure that it was love, but it was something.

“I know that you’re worried about me, brother, but there isn’t anything to worry about.” I think he didn’t want me to make a mistake and have it come back and bite me where the sun didn’t shine. We never admitted it to each other, but we had heard the stories of how marauders from Scotland had brought their Highland ways to our shores.

“I just think that there’s a need to be cautious. I don’t think I have to tell you the reason why.” Those highland warriors were getting closer and each town that they decimated had this English community on high alert. There were soldiers stationed at the edge of town, taking up guard and making sure that there were no undesirables. The stories that I had heard were repulsive. It made me almost sick to my stomach.

There was a letter in the back of my brother’s pants and I motioned to it with my head. He grabbed it and put it in my hand. When he left, I used the letter opener to strip away the paper. I opened it and I began to read and the smile on my face turned to a frown. I thought that it might be from Henry, but it wasn’t.

“You don’t know me, but my name is Patrick Mcdowell. I am a highland warrior of the highest degree. I have been charged to take this land and pillage and plunder whatever I can find. I have recently been to your town and I’ve seen you from afar. I’m going to make a proposition and I do hope that you don’t take offense. I want you and if you don’t consent to be mine, then I will have no choice. I will not only destroy your town but take you by force. This is very serious and I hope that you will take this in the spirit that it was given.” For an uncouth and uncivilized gentleman, he had shown a remarkable understanding of our language.