The Werewolf's Pregnant Bride (9 page)

Nathaniel joined his father and several of the alphas and their heirs as they rushed forward. Eldon remained against the back wall where he had presumably been for the whole meeting of alphas.

"Me wife! Me wife is losing the wee one!"

Nathaniel took a moment to take in the man's heavily accented words. He was not a member of their pack.

"W'at 'appened?" The speaker was an alpha named Ahab.

"We was just standing t'ere w'en the pain hit. Dis is da fort babe we 'ave lost."

"Take 'er upstairs," Ahab ordered. Several of their pack members rushed forward to assist so Nathaniel hung back. He noticed the stricken look on several faces and wondered how many of the females there had lost a pup or more. It was not something he thought about much as a man though he had heard that werewolf pregnancies were less stable than human pregnancies. It was especially true near the full moon. So many changes happened in a female body that sometimes not enough compensation was made for the pup. Also, were-babies strained the mother's body more than a normal child. Losing women and their children was a reality.

It made him wish he was home to be sure that Sophronia and her baby were safe. He watched as Claire leaned in closer to Eldon and he wondered if she was thinking about her own mother who had died birthing a pup.

Then, he noticed around the room how many husbands and wives suddenly were touching. Some held hands. Some stood shoulder to shoulder. Some embraced.

It was an odd thing to see but he could tell they were sharing strength. It was what husbands and wives were supposed to do. It was what the priest had meant about being a comfort and refuge for each other. He and Sophronia were not those things and they would never be unless he made it happen. She was right that she would be fine at home without him. She would not take his strength even if it was offered. If that had been her bleeding and in pain she would not have taken comfort from him. She did not love him but that was something he could change.

They were not the only couple forced to marry due to unhappy circumstances. He guessed that half the couples in the room comforting each other had initially married for reasons other than love. Still, here they were giving love and comfort as husbands and wives should.

If these couples could do it then he and Sophronia could. Once he got back he would show Sophronia that they could have a real marriage and he could be a real husband. He had thwarted the advances of Vivian. If he could do that, he could do anything to make his marriage passably happy and his wife comfortable.

Chapter 13

Sophronia followed Ruth into a clean room with a few crates and barrels but little else. Mercy was at their heels. Ruth moved across the room to where a door opened into an adjacent room that was smaller but still clean. This room had no clutter and instead held three child sized beds.

"This is where we slept," Mercy said. 

"These furnishings are old. We will need new ones for the new child. I kept telling Marquess Wolstenholme that these old things should be donated to the church but he is often a sentimental fool. I was surprised he let us give away the children's old clothes. Even the ones they had worn to tatters he would have liked to keep if I had not convinced him they might attract rodents that bring disease," Ruth said.

"I think this will be a fine nursery for the time we need it," Sophronia said. She could almost imagine her child's crib in the night nursery. There would be ample room for beds made up for a nurse and nursemaid to attend the child until he was old enough to sleep on his own. During the day he would play in the day nursery. One day his cousins would take lessons there but by then they would live in their own home.

"I will have some of our local craftsman come and consult with you on the items that will need made. I know some people prefer buying from fancy stores but we try to buy from our tenants when we can," Ruth said almost apologetically. Sophronia was sure a crib made by a local artisan would be just as fine as any other.

"I have many happy memories of my nursery days. Is that a terrible thing to say when I had no mother to love me?" Mercy asked.

"There was no more loving father in England," Ruth said, "and we had the best servants caring for you children. I should hope that your childhood was a happy one. We tried hard to make it so."

"I do not think it is a terrible thing to say. My mother is very much alive and I cannot say she was much of a warm and loving comfort through my childhood. Mostly, my sisters were my playmates. My mother made sure we were well attended to and taught how to behave properly. I do not think my mother spoke to me except to reprimand me until I was a young woman and even then there have been far more reprimands than praises," Sophronia said.

"Motherhood is a difficult duty," Ruth said.

"I think we will stay a few moments longer but you may attend to your other duties," Mercy said.

Ruth nodded and headed out of the room. Mercy walked into the room and sat down on one of the three beds. The mattress looked flat and uncomfortable but Sophronia took a seat at the end of one of the other beds.

"Does it make you sad that your own children will not be raised here?" Sophronia asked seeing the melancholy in Mercy's face as she stroked the wooden bed frame.

"My nieces and nephews will be and that will have to satisfy me. I do not think I will ever marry," Mercy said.

"Why ever not?" Sophronia asked. That seemed a ridiculous thing for Mercy to say. She may not have the same beauty as Claire but she was not an ugly woman either. She came from a good family. Men should have been queuing up to win her affections. Mercy's romantic choice of reading material told Sophronia that the girl was not opposed to marriage. She did not have such lofty plans for her life that a husband would do nothing but spoil them.

"It is a complicated matter," Mercy said with a sigh.

"I can at least try to understand," Sophronia said. Mercy looked her over carefully and Sophronia wondered if she was thinking about how to word her story. It peaked her curiosity. There were few things that she could imagine Mercy saying that would surprise or shock her.

"I had always assumed I would marry Daniel. He was the boy my father had picked out for me. Since it was assumed we would marry we spent time with his family and Daniel and I became very close. We still are good friends," Mercy said.

"But something happened and now he will not marry you?" Sophronia asked. She wondered if Mercy had been in a similar situation as herself. Could she have made a poor choice and ended up a fallen woman? Somehow, Sophronia doubted that was something Mercy would be capable of. It could have happened that Mercy had fallen against her will but somehow Sophronia thought that such close families would be able to look past an incident like that so long as no child came from it.

"It was not something that happened but rather something that did not happen," Mercy said softly. "Something that should have happened as I got older."

"Oh. Does the doctor hold no hope that it could still happen?" Sophronia asked. Mercy was certainly old enough that she should have started her monthly cycles.

"My father asked him about it years before and the doctor says it is very unlikely. It was quite a shock to all of us. Daniel and I were devastated."

"I am so sorry," Sophronia said bringing a hand up to her belly to caress the roundness that promised new life.

"If it was only a matter of love then we likely would have married anyways but in families like ours there are certain expectations," Mercy said. If Mercy had indeed not started her cycles than the likelihood of babies to carry on the family name and to inherit was small. Daniel, if he was similar in class to Wolstenholme and especially if he was the heir, would need a woman who could give him sons and protect his inheritance.

"I am fortunate that I have brothers who will care for me if I never marry. Many women are not so fortunate," Mercy said. Perhaps that was one of the reasons Mercy seemed to love her Jane Austen books so much. Many of the women in those books were left without male family to care for them if and when their fathers died. Mercy would never have that struggle. Even if she did not end up happily married at least she would never be at the mercy of uncaring male relatives.

Time and place felt unreal as Nathaniel hurried towards the howling of his alpha. He and several pack members had split from the core group to pursue a bear. They had taken the bear down and were about to call the others for a feast when the rallying call of his alpha broke through the silence.

Nathaniel ran towards the call with all his might.

He nearly tripped over his feet as he stopped beside his father. Several of the alphas were looking down at a carcass. Nathaniel's nose was keen enough that he did not have to be told that the dead creature before them was a werewolf though it did not look like it. The carcass before them was only meat and bone. There was no flesh left.

His alpha issued a command and Nathaniel joined the rest of his pack in following back to the lodge. He sniffed the ground as they walked guardedly but there were no unusual smells to indicate that anything was amiss except for the dead smell of their fallen brethren.

In the lodge there were feelings of hostility mixed equally with fear. The alphas convened in a corner. Nathaniel wondered if they would decide to take the offensive and try to hunt down the vile creature that had killed a werewolf on their land or if they should take the defensive and remain in the lodge where they had strength in numbers. Remaining cooped up in a small space as werewolves was often less than wise. There were too many emotions and too many instincts. Tempers ran hot over slight offenses. Out in the woods the werewolves could hunt together. They could bond over taking down predators. Still, there was no way that anyone should have been on the mountain that would harm the werewolves. The witches' magic should have prevented anyone from seeing any paths up that mountain unless a pack member had specifically invited them.

Nathaniel tried hard to think. His werewolf brain was poor at reasoning but the sight and smell of a dead and skinless werewolf had somewhat allowed thought to penetrate his senses.

It was possible, he supposed, that the witches' magic had failed or that some powerful creature had overpowered the magic. Still, what would such a creature want with a werewolf pelt? As far as he knew there were no magical uses for werewolf pelts. A person looking to gather magical ingredients would have taken the werewolf teeth before taking a pelt. At least werewolf teeth served some useful purpose in magic though they were not a particularly potent ingredient.

The witches had been given the location by the pack members and it was their spell protecting the lodge so it was possible that a witch had attacked the werewolf but the purpose remained senseless. The witches had strong ties to the werewolf community and a rogue witch would be punished severely for murdering a werewolf. They would have to be questioned and perhaps a new coven would have to be contracted with for the next moon if there was indeed a witch among the current one who had betrayed them. In many ways he hoped that was the case. The only other possibility was too horrific to imagine.

If there was no powerful creature who had bypassed the magic and no witch who had betrayed them then the betrayal had come from within. A member of the pack would have had to reveal the location of their full moon safe haven to an outsider.

Werewolf hunters were usually either religious fanatics who believed that destroying werewolves was the will of their god or they were arrogant hunters who felt that the last challenges on earth were supernatural creatures like vampires and werewolves. The sport hunters usually had skill but they tended to run away like children when threatened. The religious fanatics were glad to die for their god. It was rare for a werewolf to fall to either.

Religious fanatics rarely took trophies and sport hunters usually took a paw as proof of their conquest. Only pelt traders would kill a werewolf and risk skinning it under the light of the moon. It took skill and planning as a werewolf would return to human form, even after it was dead, once the moon set. A paw or a pelt would only remain in its werewolf state if removed from the rest of the body.

The demand for werewolf pelts was small but in a few certain underground and highly illegal markets there was money to be made in werewolf pelts.

A howl from the alphas signaled that they had decided to remain together in the lodge for safety. Nathaniel located the wolf forms of Eldon and Claire. They were in a corner. Eldon paced the floor while Claire lay against the wall gazing up at Eldon. When Nathaniel arrived at their side Eldon stopped pacing and sat down. Claire got up and moved to nuzzle his neck. Eldon licked her muzzle before lying down. The twitching of his ears showed Nathaniel that his brother was still uneasy. Nathaniel did not blame him in the least. He was feeling uneasy as well. He looked around the room for Vivian but he did not see her. She likely was upstairs. Many of the wolves who had been closer to the lodge had gone upstairs to stake claim on the upper stories where there was better ventilation and fewer wolves crammed into the small spaces. Nathaniel thought about seeking her out but decided against it. His place was with his alpha, his brother, and his sister-in-law. If any threats tried to enter the lodge they were who he would defend.

Nathaniel laid down on the floor near his family. He reached a paw out and placed it on his brother's. He was not sure how much comfort that would be but that was all there was for him to offer.