ROMANCE: BIKER ROMANCE: Werewolf Rider (MC Shifter Pregnancy Romance) (New Adult Paranormal Romance Short Stories) (29 page)

She wanted to tear at his face but her hands were bound and she sat, hopeless, pondering her fate, as the carriage rumbled on towards Inverness.

The men had decided quickly on a plan and James hurried to tell Arabella the news. When he could not find her in the camp he began to worry. Some of the men had seen her wander off into the forest a little more than an hour ago but had not seen her return. James was angry that no-one had stopped her, and getting up a small band of his men they started to comb the forest. Soon the little cap of berries was found and James feared the worse. The tracks of a carriage and horses was found a little further out and his fears were confirmed – it could only be one man that had taken his beloved Arabella – Lord Andrew Stewart.

Racing back to camp James saddled his horse and with two of his most trusty men they set off on the trail of the Laird. They would ride much quicker than the lumbering carriage and they would soon be able to track it down.

Andrew Stewart had been asleep, dreaming of bedding the delightful Arabella when the coach came to an abrupt stop and the lurching motion of the carriage caused him to wake.

He pounded on the roof of the carriage and called out to see what the matter was.

The driver’s voice was thin and afraid.

“I think you had better come and look for yourself sir.”

Frustrated with the stop to his journey, Lord Stewart stuck his head out of the window. He could not see anything and opened the door and jumped out into the open.

Walking to the front of the coach he froze in fear. There stood three enormous brown bears, directly in their path.

Turning back towards the carriage, he raced forward to collect his gun, but was too slow. The largest of the bears had him trapped in its gigantic paws and dragged him away into the undergrowth. The sharp claws tore at his skin, the large teeth gorging into the soft flesh until he was no more.

Arabella had sat quietly in the carriage, she had managed to work on the bindings to her hands and finally break free. There had been strange noises outside and she had been afraid. Now it was silent and she cautiously stepped outside to see what had happened. At first she wondered where Lord Stewart had gone, and then she noticed a trail of blood on the grass leading into the bushes. The coach driver was missing too and the air was eerily silent. As she walked towards the undergrowth she thought she saw something move. A crackle of dry leaves followed by the snap of twigs, and then she saw it, the magnificent brown bear. It had seen her and she froze. She had heard stories of these creatures and how they could tear a man apart with their sharp claws and teeth.

It lumbered towards her, its brown deep eyes staring deep into hers. It seemed calm and yet she closed her eyes, braced herself for the inevitable. All was quiet again.

Opening her eyes the bear was stood a short distance away, still gazing at her. A large paw came towards her and she held her breath, yet the claws were pulled back and the dry leather paw touched her face softly. She almost fainted with fear, yet there was something about this creature, something almost familiar.

With a great bellow it raised itself onto its hind legs and waved its gigantic paws into the air before falling down onto the ground.

The poor thing looked ill, it seemed to writhe around in agony and she could only stand and watch. The face twisted and contorted, it was changing before her very eyes. The body was changing shape and instead of brown fur there was bare skin. Soon James Macadam was lying naked before her and she eventually swooned, the whole experience being too great for her mind to contemplate.

When Arabella next awoke, she was back at the camp. She did not know how long she had been asleep, but it had grown dark and she was very hungry. James was sat next to her, he looked tired and worn, deep shadows forming under his eyes, yet he smiled when he saw her wake and his whole visage changed to one of joy.

“James I had the most fantastic dream.”

His smile changed to a look of concern.

“Arabella, there is something you need to know about me.”

As she looked into his dark, brown eyes, she thought of the bear and deep inside already knew. There had always been something different about James Macadam, and although she could hardly believe it, knew it was true.

“I would never hurt you Arabella, you must trust me. My family is ancient and we have handed down the werebear gene from generation to generation. It is said that one of my ancestors was cursed by a witch for not returning his love and was turned into a savage bear, but through the centuries we have learned to tame our bear and use it only when we must –that is our code”

She placed her hand in his for comfort, not knowing what to say.

“Can you still love me after this Arabella, I understand if it is too much. I should have told you but I was afraid?”

Weaving her fingers into his she looked openly into his deep, dark eyes.

“I love you, no matter what James and I always will.”

The pair kissed and James gave her a knowing smile.

“It’s good job that you do. I fear that our first night of passion has produced a new life within you,” he touched her stomach tenderly.

She had felt different too, something that she hadn’t quite grasped, but there had been a fullness about her, a blossoming that she had put down to love, yet how could he know? She looked up at him quizzically.

“Call it my animal instinct.”

The new Laird of Inverness was a kindly, younger man, a nephew of the late Lord Andrew Stewart. His had been a terrible death, ripped to pieces by a pack of wild bears, but many said it was not undeserved. The lands were restored to the Macadam Clan by the new Lord Stewart and the old man was immediately released and recovered well in his ancestral home.

James and Arabella were soon married with the full blessing of her parents. With Lord Stewart dead there was nothing more to be done. Besides, they had never fully understood who was behind the kidnapping of their daughter in the first place.

Their joy was complete with the birth of their son, James Macadam the second, a bonny baby with dark brown eyes like his fathers and a shock of wild brown hair.

He was her baby bear.

*****

THE END

BETROTHED TO THE BEAR

Chapter One

Lady Beatrice Ceri looked out of the small window of her bed chamber and sighed. She would miss the wide, rolling hills of Stirling that stretched out before her. It was a view that she had loved as far back as she could remember
—
one that she never tired of looking at. As a small girl her father had made up stories of the fairies that lived in the hillside, and ever since it had been a magical place for her.

This would be her last morning of waking up in her own bed, in her own chamber, or indeed of looking out at the view, for today she was to travel to Inverness in preparation of her marriage to Lord Selkirk in three days time. She had never met the man, but his reputation went before him. He had a name for being cold and mean. This marriage would be one of convenience, arranged by her father to bring peace between their two warring clans. For too long there had been bloodshed and war, and the time had come to call a truce. The death of the late Lord Selkirk had brought about changes, and Lady Ceri would be the sacrifice for peace.

The journey would take all day by carriage, and the 18 year old young woman prepared for the long journey. She wore her warmest gown, wrapped herself up in a thick cloak, and took several woollen blankets to keep her cosy. Her dog Henry would be her sole companion, a tan and white spaniel pup that would be her only comfort, her only friend at her new home, Selkirk Manor. All the servants were needed at the house, and none could be spared to travel with Lady Ceri. The vast fortune that she would have inherited had long been spent on costly battles, yet another reason for the arranged marriage.

Trying to hold back the tears she bid farewell to her parents; her father was committed with a steely resolve to the peace treaty, but inwardly his heart ached at the loss of his daughter, although it was not the same as losing a son. Her mother couldn't hide her despair at not only losing her daughter, but not being able to be present at the nuptials. She had been ill for many months and could not possibly travel the distance required. She had never been strong since the boy Michael had died.

The journey was long and the further they travelled up the country; the bleaker it became. Gone were the soft hills and gentle slopes of the Lowlands, and they were soon replaced by the rugged mountains and desolate heathery moorlands of the Highlands. Apart from the small dog on her lap she felt alone and about to marry a man she did not know.

Lord Thomas Selkirk had set his eyes on Beatrice ever since he had seen her as a young girl aged 14 during a visit to the Lowlands. He had been struck even then by the sheer beauty of the young, raven headed girl with the piercing blue eyes, and as she grew older she beguiled every man she met. Some said that she was a witch; a woman of great powers and her looks definitely caused the men to look and the women to whisper.

She had only seen a portrait of Thomas, a small miniature enclosed in a silver locket that she wore on a blue ribbon around her neck. At 38 years of age he was much older than her; a dark and handsome man with dark brown, amber eyes and full red lips, if the small painting was a true likeness.

Beatrice worried about the stories she had heard. Thomas had never married, and was rumoured to be mean and bad tempered to his servants; beating his dogs and horses and sometimes even his own men. He also had a reputation as a magnificent yet fierce warrior and was said to have killed many men in battle. The only thing that stopped her turning back and returning home was that the warring had stopped and a sense of peace now reigned between the two clans. The battle for lands stretching between the lowlands and highlands had raged for years and hundreds of lives had been lost as well as fortunes in the process.

She hoped the peace would last, and that her sacrifice would be worthwhile. 

It was nightfall by the time she reached Selkirk Manor
—a
n imposing building of grey stone towers and arches. She feared for the worse as she followed a servant up the stone steps leading to house; it looked cold and unfriendly. The Master was not home to meet her but a fire had been laid in one of the smaller rooms and all comforts had been made available to her. She had been surprised by the welcome, expecting nothing but harshness and meanness from his repute, yet no expense had been spared. There was even a little red velvet cushion for the dog.

Exhausted from her journey she almost fell to sleep beside the fire after eating a hearty meal of venison and wine. The wine had been strong and didn’t take long to affect her. Just as she was about to nod off, Henry who had been fast asleep on her lap, sat up suddenly, his silky ears raised to attention. He had heard something and jumped from his mistress’s knee and trotted across the stone flagged floor towards the door. With hackles raised he started barking, pawing at the wood as if needing to be let out.

“Henry –you stop that”, Beatrice feared he would wake up the whole household for everywhere was quiet. Rushing to the door she scooped him up in her arms, yet he continued to bark.

“Now Henry”, she scolded the dog “stop that at once you hear”, and opening the door she stepped through into the hallway to show the little dog that there was nothing there.

The front door of the house stood open to the elements and in the open doorway stood the bulky shape of a man. His face was in the shadows but he seemed somehow distressed, almost as if in pain. She could sense something in the air; something powerful as she moved slowly towards him.

There was something about the man stood before her that made her shudder and as she approached the little dog jumped out of her arms and went scurrying away to the corner of the hall and began to whine and cower. The poor thing seemed frightened half to death.

The moon was full and cast its pale glow as it moved out from behind the clouds, shining directly into the open doorway. Beatrice could feel the room start to sway, the thing before her seemed half man, half beast. As the creature walked towards her she passed out onto the cold stone floor.

Chapter 2

The rain beating down on the casement window woke Lady Beatrice from her dreams and for a moment she had forgotten where she was. The room was strange and was not her own. Then she remembered her journey to the Highlands the previous day and the reason for being there. Her heart fluttered slightly in her bosom at the thought of her impending marriage.

Henry, her little dog, had been sleeping by her feet on the bed and on seeing his mistress awake scampered up the embroidered quilt and nuzzled into her arms.

Poor Henry, he had been startled last night.

Last night! Her heart raced as images of the night before flooded back to her; the strange vision in the doorway. She couldn’t remember anything after that except waking up in her bed that morning.

Lifting up the quilt she glanced tentatively below; someone had undressed her and put on one of her nightgowns. She blushed to think of a stranger removing her clothing. Her maidservant Jane had often helped with her hair and toilet back home, but she had preferred to dress and undress herself.

And the man, or beast, or whatever it was. Surely that had been a figment of her imagination? She had been exhausted and the wine wouldn’t have helped but had she been dreaming? It had certainly seemed real at the time but the mind can play strange tricks. Her emotions had been all over the place too –apprehension at meeting the man she would spend the rest of her life with, and at this moment still a stranger. An odd feeling passed over her causing the hairs on the back of neck to stand on end as she gave an involuntary shiver. There was something here that wasn’t quite right; she could sense it.

Since a girl she had been known for her powers of intuition. It wasn’t as if she could foretell the future or anything like that; it was just that she was aware when something wasn’t right –like the time she had woken the household, just before a fire had started in the kitchen –saving all their lives and the house. It had all begun when her twin brother Michael had been killed in a hunting accident –he had been just 8 years old and had fallen from his horse. She missed him every single day and still felt a strong attachment to him; as if she were now living both their lives. He often visited her in dreams to warn her when she was in danger. She had not dreamed of him for a long time.

Rubbing her arm she realised it was aching and rolling up her white cotton sleeve she noticed a large red and purple bruise. She thought she had a memory of falling, of hitting the hard ground beneath her; something had certainly happened last night and she shuddered to think of it. What if the vision had been real after all?

Climbing out of the vast bed she looked around her. The room was much larger than hers back home, but the furniture made it seem cold; unloved. A patterned rug and dark wood panelling kept out some of the cold although she still shivered in the chill air.  Great purple velvet drapes adorned the large wooden bed, and there was an intricately carved, dark wooden tall chest in one corner. In front stood her bags; all of which had been unpacked –some of her items lay neatly on a small round table –the others she presumed had been placed in the chest.

But who had done this? She fingered the pearl handled brush and small hand mirror that her mother had given to her; the memory made her suddenly homesick and she began to cry. Looking out of the window she gazed across the morning mist and drizzle. The countryside looked harsh and cruel and she wondered what on earth she had let herself in for.

There was a gentle knock at her door and she froze. What if it was Lord Selkirk? Wrapping a woollen shawl around her shoulders she opened the door.

It was a young girl in a simple blue dress and wearing a white mop cap. She curtsied as the door was opened and she walked into the room. Beatrice breathed a sigh of relief; she wasn’t ready for seeing Thomas Selkirk just yet.

“I’m here to help ye Ma’am, and I’m to tell ye that the master is already oot and aboot and there’s food set out for ye d’oon stairs”

The girl looked half frightened; she must only be about 12 years of age and Beatrice smiled at her. It was nice to know that she wasn’t the only one afraid.

Becoming bolder the young girl smiled back.

“Will there be anything else my Lady?”

Beatrice wondered if the girl knew anything about the previous night.

“Did you unpack my things for me last night?”

The girl looked wide eyed and shook her head. “Och no Ma’m, I mean yer Ladyship. That would have been Mistress Selkirk –I’m only the scullery maid”. And with a final curtsey she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Well at least the mystery of her undressing and the unpacking was clear, but who on earth was Mistress Selkirk?

Putting on her gown from the previous day she tidied her hair as she looked in the small mirror. Was she still the same girl as yesterday? The same electric blue eyes looked back at her, yet she looked weary, older somehow and she frowned at her own reflection. Would the same young woman ever return?

Stepping into the hallway she wandered towards the great stone staircase. She hadn’t seen much of the house last night and it appeared much bigger than she had first thought. Lord Selkirk was a rich man; much richer than her father and owned a great deal of land.

At the bottom of the staircase she looked around helplessly; wondering which way to turn. Heading for the door directly in front of her she stopped quickly, there was the sound of footsteps behind her.

“If you’re looking for food it’s set out in the Great Hall; I’m afraid Thomas is already up and out today”.

Beatrice turned around to meet an extraordinary looking woman. She was taller and thinner than Lady Ciri and although handsome, one would not have called her beautiful. She was dressed simply in a black dress and looked cold and stern; frowning as she spoke.

“The Great Hall is to your right –I’ll show you” and moving briskly down the hallway, led the way.

The hall was much larger and grander than the cosy room she had eaten in yesterday and there was no welcoming fire in the grate this morning to warm her. The air was chill and she felt uncomfortable under the imposing eye of the woman before her who surely must be the housekeeper. A wooden bowl filled with thick looking porridge had been set out alongside a hunk of bread and cheese, and a goblet of light coloured ale.

Dipping a spoon into the lumpy porridge she sampled it on her lips; it was cold and stuck in her mouth.

“We eat early here and don’t have enough servants to make anything fresh. If you want your porridge hot then you will have to rise earlier in the morning”.

Beatrice had no recollection of time.

“What time is it?”

“There’s a clock in the hall, it’s just past 11 of the clock”

The woman was matter of fact and brusque in her manner and turned to leave. On reaching the door she turned back.

“I’m Gertrude Selkirk, sister of Sir Thomas”.

Trying to hide the shock on her face, Beatrice put down the spoon. This woman would be her sister in law and she had hoped for some warmth.

“I do hope we can be friends?”

Gertrude glared at the young woman before leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

It seemed unlikely. She hoped Thomas would be friendlier and more welcoming than his sister.

Suddenly she didn’t seem to have an appetite, and rising from her seat she walked around the room. Along one wall hung a line of portraits, men and women looking down at her from across the ages. Their eyes seemed to follow her footsteps and as she walked she felt that they were mocking her. How dare this young girl from the Lowlands expect to become Mistress of this great house? The thought suddenly struck her; Gertrude had been the Mistress of the house before her intrusion; when she married Thomas she would naturally step into that role. No wonder Gertrude was cold towards her. She must make it plain that she had no thoughts of interfering and there would be no change once she was Lady Selkirk.