James Macadam watched the girl from a distance. Her face was lit up; burnished by the glowing fire. Her cheeks had already been flushed from the brisk ride and now she was positively radiant. He had never seen such a beautiful face in all of his life.
As he observed her slight form, her shoulders began to slowly sag within the great cloak around her shoulders, and her head began to droop against her chest. Finally her eyes closed and she was sound asleep.
Picking her up gently, James carried the girl to lie under one of the sheltered spaces. She was so light in his arms, so beautiful, that it made his heart heavy. She was betrothed to Lord Stewart and would be used as a bargaining tool for the return of his lands and the release of his father. That was all; he could not allow himself to get involved.
Lowering her down onto a woollen blanket he had to control a desperate urge to kiss her on the lips. Instead he brushed her forehead slightly with his mouth and she stirred quietly in her dreams, the softest of smiles playing on her lips.
He would not sleep; he would be as good as his word and keep watch over her all night.
When she awoke the next day it took Arabella a while to work out where she was. She had slept well, but was aching from lying on the hard ground. When she looked up, James was there, smiling down at her.
He was so handsome that her heart fluttered; he had been in her dreams and she blushed to think of it. She had been walking down the aisle, approaching Lord Stewart waiting for her at the altar. He had slowly turned towards her, but it wasn’t the face of Andrew Stewart that waited, but the smiling face of James Macadam, and she had been glad with all her heart.
It was a ridiculous notion, her course was set and she had to get to Inverness as soon as possible and she pushed the foolish thoughts to the back of her mind.
Over breakfast, a bowl of simple porridge and ale, James told her of his plans. One of his men was already riding to Inverness to meet up with Lord Stewart to bargain Arabella for the return of his lands and release of his father. James was no fool and knew that it would not be easy. Andrew Stewart was sure to raise a small army and come looking for them –yet he had the upper hand, he had Arabella and even in the eyes of the cold Laird, surely the prize was worth it?
He could hardly dare think about the poor young woman being bound to such a man, but it was not his problem, the girl had obviously agreed to the union. At least she would be well cared for, she would want for nothing in the castle, more than anything he could hope to provide her with.
He shook his head sadly; it was a stupid thought to even entertain. His lifestyle was not fitting for a lady such as Arabella Armstrong.
It would be several days at least until they expected word back from Lord Stewart and the plan was to stay concealed in the camp for as long as they needed.
At first Arabella sat silently, aloof from the men and thinking over her forthcoming marriage. She had been shocked to hear some of the stories about her fiancé, but was sure they were exaggerated; her father would never have given such a man permission to marry her; however wealthy he might be.
Occasionally she would watch James slyly out of the corner of her eye. All the men seemed to respect him and he worked with the men on all tasks, nothing was too lowly for him. She delighted in seeing him demonstrate his strength, either chopping down a tree for firewood or fixing one of the temporary shelters. Occasionally he worked stripped naked from the waist and she loved to watch the rippling biceps and strong shoulders at work. Never before had she felt sexually attracted to a man and a dull ache rose inside of her that she could not dismiss, however hard she tried.
For most of the day she was sat alone with her thoughts and with James not always by her side, she felt the she must keep a close watch on the other men. She caught them looking at her when they thought she wasn't looking and she did not like their stares. It was only when they sat once again around the camp fire that night, and James was sat next to her, did she relax. After they had eaten, one of the men stood up and brought out an old battered set of pipes. She expected the music would be disharmonious and was amazed when the soft haunting melody floated out into the night air. It was a tender, melancholy piece that she recognised from her childhood “The Bonny lass of Ballochmyle’ and she started to sing the words in her head.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice, sweet and low, singing the very same words she was thinking. It was James. He sang with a rich baritone, and the more he sang, the more she loved him. It was a tale of innocent love and it hit her straight in the heart.
Fair is the morn in flow'ry May,
And sweet is night in autumn mild,
When roving thro' the garden gay,
Or wand'ring in the lonely wild;
But woman, Nature's darling child -
There all her charms she does compile;
Even there her other works are foil'd
By the bonnie lass 0' Ballochmyle.
James was looking straight at her and she mouthed the words along with him. Soon the men were clamouring for another tune and invited Arabella to sing for them. At first she was shy, but emboldened by the ale she stood and asked what songs she knew. She could remember the words to ‘Early one Morning’ and soon the piper had struck up a chord and she was soon singing of a poor maiden’s plight.
Oh, don't deceive me,
Oh, never leave me,
How could you use
A poor maiden so?
Her voice was light and crisp and as she grew bolder the notes soared high into the night sky, as tuneful as a lark at evensong.
James felt his eyes well with tears; the sound was so plaintive that he turned his head away so that his men could not see. In a few days she would be miles away and in another man’s bed. She would soon forget her time here.
When she had finished he went over to sit with her and they talked until the moon had swung around the great mountain to the west. He told her how frail his father had been following the death of his mother. Theirs had been a long and true love and when he had lost her, he thought his whole life over. That had been when the greedy Lord Stewart had struck, when they had all been grieving, and he had taken their lands by force. When his father had tried to complain to the Sheriff, the Laird had imprisoned him in the castle on a charge of trespass on his own lands. His father had been a peaceful man and had always been kind to his tenant farmers. The new Laird had doubled the rents and increased the taxes, driving out families from their homes and livelihoods.
Arabella listened without comment, as she looked into his dark and honest eyes; she knew that he was telling the truth. The more she heard about Lord Andrew Stewart, the less she liked him, let alone wanted to marry him.
It was late and Arabella yawned. James promised to watch over her and walked her back to the shelter that would be her bed for the night. As they walked through the darkness their hands brushed lightly and a spark of electricity passed between them. His heart was beating loudly in his chest and he could hide his feelings no longer. Grabbing at her waist he pulled her close to him, his hot breath on her hair.
Her whole body tingled as she was held, suspended, in the moment of his magical first kiss. His lips found hers with an urgency and fervour that was all consuming. Arabella felt her feet lift from the floor; she was floating on air, her head light and reeling on the heights of passion.
The ache had grown within her and she surrendered softly to his touch. His hands caressed her body, reaching up to find her small and perfectly round breasts. She moaned softly as he gently squeezed and caressed the soft yet firm flesh, yielding under his strong hands.
His lips were demanding on hers as his passion increased; her sweet and innocent mouth tasting like the fruits of heaven. He had never known anything sweeter nor more desirable and he felt himself being swept away on the tide of his own passion.
Yet he stopped, suddenly, pulling himself away from her as if the force were killing him. She was not his to have and was betrothed to another. If he took her she would be damaged goods, it would ruin not only her immediate prospects, but her whole life. His blood was pumping fiercely around his body as if his heart would explode with the sheer frustration, his hands shaking with unspent desire.
Arabella gasped as she opened her eyes. She was breathless from her passion and did not want it to stop. His eyes were dilated and burning deep amber, his face contorted as if he were in pain.
Lifting up her arm she brushed his face softly with her fingertips and a deep tremor shook his body, as if he had been struck by the very force of Mother Nature herself.
“What is it James?” The girl looked up to him, her innocent blue eyes, gentle and trusting.
His voice wavered as he spoke.
“I cannot do this Arabella. You are to be returned to Lord Stewart, to be married to him, and while I hate to think upon it, I do not have the right to take your innocence in this way. If I took you now, I would never be able to let you go.”
James looked away as if he could not bear to see her sweet face. Arabella could feel her heart thumping in her breast. Never had she felt so strongly, so deeply, cared so absolutely about one man.
“Then let me stay with you James,” she whispered softly, her voice hardly disturbing the silence of the night.
Looking at her, his eyes brimming with passion, he sadly shook his head.
“What have I to offer you Arabella? I have no lands and no real home. I live a life that changes with the Seasons; it is not a life for a Lady. As much as I hate Lord Stewart he can give you a comfortable home, everything you desire will be yours.”
“Everything except love that is.” The girl reached over and took his hand in hers.
For a moment he sat silently, looking at the beautiful and brave young woman set before him. He could not believe that she could love him in return.
“What about Lord Andrew?”
“What about him? From what you tell me he is a cruel and evil man. How could I love such a man, live in the same household as a man such as that, even with all the wealth in Scotland I could not be happy.”
“But you could be happy with me? I cannot promise a comfortable life, but I can offer myself, my unconditional love and protection, as long as I breathe Gods air.”
Arabella could feel the tears start to well behind her eyes. The emotion was almost too much to endure. She knew at that moment how much she loved him and her mind was made up, she had decided upon her destiny.
“I do not want a comfortable life without love James; I just want to be with you, but what about your father and your land? If I am not returned to the Laird, what will happen?”
James frowned. He loved his father very much, he was more important than the land, but now he had Arabella, he could not let her go. There had to be another way.
“Do not worry, there will be a way, there is always a way. I cannot let you go now that I have found you.”
Her eyes shone through the darkness and his passion started to rise as he reached out for her once more.
“Do you love me Arabella?”
Smiling she brought her lips to his “I have never been so certain of anything in my life.”
This time his passion was gentler, sat easier in his soul. She loved him and would stay with him, and together they would battle through life’s hardships.
His lips were softer now upon hers, supple and tender. His tongue tentatively explored the moist recesses, their tongues joining and embracing as the depth of their passion grew.
His hands were once again upon her breasts and he could feel the small nipples hardening at his touch. He needed to feel the soft flesh beneath her tunic and pulled at the material until his fingers reached the bare flesh beneath. Arabella had never been touched so intimately by a man, yet she was not afraid. She trusted James with every fibre of her being.
Arching her back she pushed against the warmth of his hands as they cupped the soft flesh of her breasts. As he squeezed and rolled her nipples between his fingers she started to moan with pleasure, her head reeling under his touch.
His kisses became more urgent as his body covered hers. She could feel his hardness grinding into her and the ache within her started to grow, almost instinctually she needed to feel him inside her.
His hands now lowered and tugged at the breeches she was wearing. Raising herself off the floor, she allowed him to pull the garment down, leaving her exposed in her long woollen stockings and little else.
James gasped as touched the soft taut skin of her inner thigh. Bringing down his head he kissed the supple, sweet flesh, parting her legs slightly.
He could smell the sweet musky scent of her hollow as his mouth travelled up to her soft mound, covered with a fine coating of light, downy hair. Her virgin recesses were like honey on his lips as he dipped his tongue into her fleshy folds. It was though a shock rippled through her body and she writhed beneath him, lost in the pure pleasure of his lovemaking.
He could not wait a moment longer to be inside her and standing up pulled at his own breeches and shirt until he was stood naked in front of her.
At first she was a little nervous to gaze upon him, but he was beautiful. His body was lean and tanned from living outdoors, the muscles highly defined on his legs, arms and torso.
His cock stood proud and erect, slightly glistening with precum.
“Are you ready for me Arabella my love?”
Suddenly feeling bashful she smiled and lowered her gaze. She did not know the words, only that she wanted him more than anything.
Kneeling before her, he kissed her reassuringly before pushing her back amongst the blankets.
Spreading her legs further apart he positioned himself between her thighs, his thick cock in his hand, guiding himself into her.
He did not want to hurt her and knew that his large manhood would stretch her tight hole as he entered and he tried to be as gentle as his ardour would allow. The tip of his cock pushed lightly against her moist lips and she arched her back to receive him. She was so tight that he almost came as he slowly started to enter her, the walls of her soft flesh moulding around him like a perfect glove, squeezing his hard flesh until he could hardly stand it and had to lie still for a moment.
“Arabella, my sweet love,” he whispered in her ear over and over again.
As he started to push deeper she winced slightly, gasping and asking him to be gentle.
Her pleading words made his passion flare and he had to restrain himself from thrusting his full length completely inside her.
Inch by inch he eased the way, feeling her tighten and then relax beneath him as he filled her completely.
With one final thrust he was there and she could feel his thick flesh, throbbing and hot inside her.
He lay still for a second until he could bear it no longer and started to thrust within her. His animal passions took over as he thrust deeper and longer inside her until he could feel himself on the verge of no return.
Arabella was breathing heavily and her pupils were dilated. As he pumped into her he could feel her pleasure rising, the soft walls trembling around his hard member.
His orgasm exploded inside his brain as his penis erupted inside her, splashing his seed in soft creamy swathes that trickled from her hole , warm and wet on her thighs and slightly pink with her virginal blood. She had never experienced such a wealth of emotion and had though her brain would explode with pure pleasure. Now his penis was slack within her and his body warm and perspiring against hers. Wrapping his arms tightly around her they fell into a soft and dreamless sleep.
When she awoke she was alone inside the shelter. She had been covered in a swathe of blankets and could still feel the sticky love making between her thighs. She had a slight dull ache in her abdomen and she remembered the lovemaking and smiled. Now she was truly his, she did not care what happened now, cushioned by the soft glow of love.
At the sound of footsteps she pulled a woollen shawl tightly around her, but she did not need to fear. It was James, bringing hot water for her to wash with.
“I thought you might need this after last night,” he smiled gently at her and she blushed remembering him inside her.
Kissing her softly he made to leave. He and his men would spend most of the day devising a new plan, how to get back his father and the lands without forfeiting the young girl.
Arabella looked worried “Do your men know about me?”
James smiled and winked “Do not worry about my men, they are true and loyal. Now you are one of us, they will not harm you.”
And it was true. As Arabella left the safety of her shelter to sit around the fire to eat her breakfast, the men either smiled or nodded to her. Not in a ‘knowing’ or ‘lewd’ fashion, but one of honest friendship and camaraderie.
After a breakfast of bread and cheese, Arabella wondered what to do with her day. She was not a girl who was generally idle, although her class and station in life meant that she seldom had anything pressing. At home she would embroider or play the piano her father had bought her for her 14th birthday. She was quite an accomplished artist and often sketched or painted watercolour scenes from the countryside around her, but she could do none of that here.
The girl sat by the fire and watched as the man designated cook chopped at the rabbit and vegetables in readiness for their supper that night. As a child she had helped Mrs McGregor in the kitchen many times, chopping vegetables and herbs to accompany her gastronomical delights, or tasting the pudding mixture before it went into the oven, to make sure it was just right. She had learned a lot from the old cook but had never found the need to practise her craft. She looked at the dish and knew what would help; a few wild blackberries would bring out the flavour beautifully. She had noticed the bushes around the edges of the forest were full of the dark purple delights and a stroll would do her good. Dressed in her breeches and cap she would be inconspicuous enough and after all, she wouldn’t stray far.
The day was beautiful and the sunlight filtered through the branches creating a soft green glow over everything it touched. The berries were abundant and there were too many to carry. The forest was empty around her, apart from the genial sing song of the native birds. Quickly she took off her cap, releasing her long hair around her shoulders. There was no-one about to see her and no harm would be done and quickly she started to pick the berries, placing them inside the cap for easy carriage home. She began to sing ‘Early One Morning’ softly to herself, remembering the previous night and her heart was light.
Very soon the cap was full and her fingers sticky and stained with the juice. She had walked to the edge of a trickling brook, clear and shimmering in the soft sunlight and putting down the capful of berries, decided to stay a while longer, enjoying the peace and quiet of the open air.
Arabella must have fallen asleep for she was wakened with a start by a noise behind her. She thought she had heard men talking, probably just the men from the camp, but she gathered the cloak loosely around her and shrank back into the undergrowth.
She listened intently, all was quiet. Perhaps they had gone away; perhaps it had just been the gurgling of the brook after all/. Whatever had woken her,it was time to get back to the relative safety of the camp.
Standing up she brushed the dry leaves from her clothes and bent down to pick up the cap full of berries. A twig snapped in front of her and she looked up.
There stood Andrew Stewart and two of his men, they had been watching her all along.
The Laird eyed her suspiciously. This was not the picture of a girl who had been taken against her will. She was happy; he had heard her singing a short while before, the refrains of a love song if he was not mistaken. The anger rose inside him as he thought of his enemy, James Macadam, but he tried not to let his feelings show,
“Well my dear, this is a nice surprise, I hardly recognised you in that outfit. You are a proper Robin Hood and no mistake. You will be pleased to know that I have come to rescue and take you back to Inverness where we can be married post haste.”
The girl shrank from his gaze. What she had once thought of as handsome, she now saw as cruel and heartless. She could never love this man, ever.
For a moment she stood defiantly, trying to hold her head high and stop herself from shaking.
“I no longer wish to marry you sir. I am grateful for your offer but I will not be coming with you.”
Lord Andrew felt the ire rise within him.
“So, you are going to stay here, but a young girl on her own, under whose protection will you be?”
He was playing games with her but she had to continue.
“James Macadam.”
He could no longer contain his jealousy. He loathed James Macadam with a passion, he was everything that he was not and now it seemed he had the love of his betrothed, his Arabella. He had not loved the girl but she was attractive and would have suited him well between the bed sheets.
He smiled down at the girl with the eyes of a serpent.
“I’m afraid I have made a pact with your father and I am a man of my words. You will come back with me now and we will be married tomorrow. I am prepared to overlook your little indiscretion, but you will remain under lock and key in the castle until you can be trusted. I can think of many ways to keep you entertained,” he licked his lips lasciviously as he looked her up and down.
“Get her into the carriage men, we head back immediately.”
Arabella tried to struggle but the men soon had her captive and she was soon bundled into the back of the carriage. It was no use, there was nothing she could do, only hope that somehow James would get to her in time.
She did not weep, she would not allow herself to weep in front of this terrible man, and she dug her nails into the palms of her hands to stop her from crying.
“At least now you have me, you can relinquish the lands you have stolen from the Macadam Clan and release James’s father?”
Andrew Stewart snorted in derision. “Then you are more naive than I thought my dear. Of course I will not be giving back the lands. The old man will be put to death and the others will shortly follow, including your beloved James.”
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.
*****
Clan of the Cave Wolf
A group of men thundered by on horses as Lady Catriona emerged from her tent. The animals’ hooves tore up the ground, tossing clumps of mud and grass across the encampment. In the lead was Lord Hector - Catriona’s husband. They rode into camp, throwing up whoops and hollers, having captured a single Highland rebel. Hector turned his horse ‘round and kicked it towards his wife.
“What do you think of our game, my love?” He asked loudly, to put on a show.
Catriona suppressed a curl of her lip and raised her chin. “It is very grand, my Lord.”
The Lord laughed, barked, in amusement. “This mangy cur?” He spat on the ground, “first time he’s ever been called grand, I’m sure.”
The other men joined in with their own thick laughter. Jeering at the man they held captive - though the prisoner’s face remained still, distant. Catriona bowed her head, quitting the conversation without further comment. Her husband spurred his horse and returned to his task. Looking up, Catriona took a brief glance at the stranger. Mangy cur was not the phrase she would choose to describe him. The man held his head high, and his shoulders straight - despite the harsh pull of the rope around his wrists. His body was well toned, muscles taught - there was an animal-like quality about him to be sure. But not one of weakness or frenzy. He was strong and lean - and his presence couldn’t help but remind Catriona of what her life might have been, had Hector not chosen her as a bride.
The captive turned his head, meeting Catriona’s gaze before he was dragged from her sight. His eyes were piercing even from a distance - and they made Catriona shiver. Before she could blink, he was already gone - spirited away to another part of camp, to be bound and ridiculed. Her husband out of sight, Catriona did little to hide the disgust on her face. Life had turned out so much differently than she had once expected as a young girl. Marriage to Lord Hector seemed the only practical choice at the time - he would provide security and wealth in a time when the Scottish lands were in uncertain upheaval. The Highlanders were fighting back against the Englishmen who continuously stole their land and enforced their rule. In truth, Catriona had been lucky to catch Hector’s eye. Instead of leaving her to be taken by the men of his camp, he instead took her aside to woo for himself. With this, Catriona ensured the safety of her own family - if not those of her former village.
The first year or so was easy - she was still in Hector’s good favor. He doted upon her and showed her off as frequently as possible. But soon the question of a child became an issue. Hector hadn’t the gall to force himself upon her, but the few times Catriona did allow him into her bed, it was cold and unpleasant. His sweet words quickly turned into admonishments and strings of hateful whispers into her ear. She had never suspected Hector a kind man, but the strength of his cruelty was sharp. While he still played the part around his men, or men and women of the court, Catriona dreaded being left alone by his side. Over the course of a few years, Catriona had become attuned to her husband’s moods, his movements. She knew when a strike would come, when he was merely yelling, or when he would destroy the room to intimidate her. To confront Lord Hector directly…Catriona couldn’t be truly sure of the outcome. That is why she decided to make a fool of him behind his back. To make him small in the eyes of his men. She would free the Highland rebel that night.
The camp was subdued, muted, as the moon’s wavering light drifted through the clouds. Catriona had feigned illness to her husband - claiming the constant travel was doing her no good.
Hector had scoffed, “and I thought you Scottish women were supposed to be hardy. Should have chosen a girl with better constitution.” But he let her be, more inclined to join the men in their drinking and rabble-rousing than interrogate his wife.
When the sounds of their revels died down, Catriona crept carefully and silently from the back of her tent. Her long black hair was held back in a tight bun as she snuck through the darkness - she didn’t want it hindering her in any way. In her boot was a small knife - it once belonged to her father, mainly used to gut fish. But tonight she would use it to cut the stranger’s restraints…and perhaps bequeath it to him. Catriona realized the man would have been stripped of his own weapons, and if she were going to give him half a chance, this was the best she could do. She comforted herself in the loss of such a dear item with the thought that her father would have done the same. Across the camp sat a small tent, separated from the others and guarded by a single man. Judging by his absent stare and poorly stifled yawns, he would be easy enough to creep by. As long as the captive inside let up no alarm as she entered.
Crouching, balancing on the balls of her feet and her fingertips, Catriona couldn’t help but smirk. Crawling about in the mud. This certainly wasn’t the image Lord Hector had in mind for his bride, she was sure. Taking a long arc around to the back of the prisoner’s tent, Catriona sliced herself an entrance with the small knife. It was duller than she expected and took a few moments to truly cut a hole big enough for her. She hoped the rebel captive would remain quiet until she was finished.
Poking her head in at last, she came face to face with the man. He was sitting, hands tied to the wooden pole behind his back. He wore a ragged shirt, with no sign of buttons or string, and a heavy kilt tied about his waist. His boots were leather, battered by unknown years of mud and travel. The man’s head was tilted, his amber eyes sparkling with bewildered amusement.
“Hello,” he whispered, “is this meant to be a rescue - or are you simply redecorating?”
Catriona blinked, taken aback by the unexpected quip. Her cheeks flushed, a slight indignation brewing beneath her skin.
“I beg your pardon?” She uttered as quietly as possible, while still maintaining an air of offended dignity.
The man chuckled under his breath. “Forgive me. I was trying to think of something clever to say all that while, and that was the best I could muster - under the circumstances.”
He shrugged, tugging lightly at his restraints. Catriona hesitated only a moment more, bemused by the stranger’s odd nature. She shuffled into the tent and knelt on the other side of the pole.
“Well, you’ll have more time to think of something better,” she slipped the knife between the man’s hands and began to saw at the rope. “I still need to cut through these.”
“Saints preserve us, let’s pray you finish before sun up.” His voice was light, joking more than disparaging.
Catriona shook her head silently. She had envisioned their first encounter many times before nightfall - expecting the man to be stoic, noble, and certainly more grateful than this. But here he was teasing her, jesting. It was odd, however…somehow this did not feel out of place. It was as if the two of them had known each other long before this moment. As if two good friends were finally reuniting.
“What’s your name?” The man broke into her thoughts. He turned his head, looking over his shoulder to get a glimpse of his savior.
“Lady Catriona,” she replied quickly. “And you?”
“My name is Conall,” he began - then a thought seemed to strike him, “wait a moment…Lady?”
He attempted to twist himself around even more, but Catriona kept her focus on the ropes and the movement of her knife.
“Lady?” Conall repeated, keeping his voice low despite the curiosity in him.
“Yes.” Catriona said simply.
“As in the Lady married to our lovely Lord Hector out there?”
Catriona could feel her cheeks growing hot again. She had also envisioned leaving her husband unmentioned that night - but so accustomed to Hector’s own flaunting of the title, she let Lady slip. Her eyes flitted up for a moment to look at Conall’s face. Instead of the resentful scowl she had expected, his face sat in a playful grin.
“I fail to see the humor of the situation,” Catriona muttered. The ropes were finally beginning to fray. A few minutes more and the man would be free.
Conall laughed out loud involuntarily - but quickly caught himself, turning the laugh into an awkward cough before trailing off. The two of them sat frozen for a moment, listening for the sounds of the guard outside - he appeared to be unperturbed by the noise. Catriona cut with more ferocity.
“It’s brilliant though, isn’t it? The man’s own wife freeing a Highland rebel? I only wish I were his wife so I could pull off something so dastardly.”
Catriona choked, only just managing to hide her own laughter. “Excuse me?” She asked through stifled giggles.
“Well, I mean,” Conall shrugged, “not literally of course…”
Finally, the last of the rope gave way and Conall’s wrists were free. He stretched his arms, bringing them around and massaging the life back into his hands. Catriona sat back on her heels, watching him - his hands were rough, broad. And yet she imagined they were much warmer than her husband’s.
“Shall we be off?” Once again, Conall interrupted her thoughts.
Catriona looked up, startled. “We?”
Conall nodded. “I can’t imagine you entered this tent and freed me because you like your husband.”
Catriona didn’t reply right away. Despite the hatred she held for her husband, despite the risk she had decided to take, despite everything, she hadn’t, in fact, imagined herself leaving. In Catriona’s mind, it wasn’t even possible - how could it be? When he had held her with such a deadly grip all these years. But now, on this quiet night, suddenly freedom was before her - staring at her with earnest, amber eyes.
“I’m afraid the longer we delay -.”
“Yes.” Catriona answered abruptly, causing Conall’s face to break into another grin.
He took her hand. “Then off we go, my Lady. And I promise, since you have done me the honor of saving my own life, I will do everything in my power to protect yours.”
Now this was the sort of noble behavior Catriona had hoped for. And she was right, the man’s hands were incredibly warm, and softer than they looked. Another moment and the tent was empty, save for the tattered ropes - and Catriona’s knife. She had not noticed it slip from her hands before they disappeared.
Morning was grasping its way up the horizon as Catriona and Conall rode towards his home. When they had snuck their way out of Hector’s camp, Conall suggested they would have better luck on horseback. In truth, Catriona didn’t believe they would be able to get one away without raising suspicion and alarm - but as she watched from the shadows, Conall treaded the ground so lightly, that she began to wonder if he were more specter than man. As the two of them rode together, however, Catriona felt the weight of Conall’s arms around her, holding the reigns. Perhaps it was the cold wind, or the dawning realization that soon Hector may be nothing more than a bitter memory - but Catriona’s heart hammered in her chest like a war drum, dizzying her senses. In the distance, the mountains loomed and grew taller as they approached.
Conall gestured. “We should be there within another hour or so, my people reside within the mountains - to keep out of sight.”
He added this last comment, as if he already sensed the question on Catriona’s lips. Catriona only nodded. Within the mountains…Conall and his people must have once lived in a village of their own, on land of their own. Her expression hardened - it was men like Hector who were driving these people out, bending them to English rule or otherwise erasing them from the countryside. A sharp ire grew in the back of her throat. She had traded her countrymen for her own safety, sitting idle for years as Hector lead her from encampment to encampment to drive out the Highland rebels. She shook her head - but this was the last of it. The sun was rising on a new day for Catriona and she refused to turn back now.
Conall pulled up on the reigns gently and guided the horse to a slow trot. They had reached the base of the mountains. Here, Conall slid from the saddle.
“I’ll lead us towards the caves - it will be easier to lead the horse on foot.”
“Then I’ll join you, there’s no reason I should ride up here like some sort of noblewoman anymore,” Catriona offered, already moving to jump down.
But Conall stopped her with a quick hand on her calf. The movement startled Catriona, making her flinch - her body was still trained to guard itself against the touch of men. Conall seemed to notice her stiffen and quickly removed his hand apologetically.
“No,” he said a little awkwardly, then recovered himself. “No, you ought to remain saddled. The path is uneven and unkind to delicate feet.”
His mouth curled into an impish smile. Teasing again. Catriona pursed her lips but didn’t argue. “Very well, then. Lead the way, sir.”
Conall gave a mock bow, then took the reigns in one hand and began the final stretch of their journey. They fell silent as Conall concentrated, and Catriona took the opportunity to absorb her new surroundings. The mist was thicker here, leaving a fine layer of dew on the rocks and the dull grass. Casting a look over her shoulder, it appeared they had already climbed a fair distance. Catriona could see the vast fields behind her - hazy curtains of rain obscuring a portion of them, while other areas remained still untouched. Ahead of them, an invisible path drew them towards a dip between the slopes, disappearing around curves and mossy rocks. Conall stepped with certainty, however, clearly familiar to each step. Catriona shivered, whether due to the cold or the growing sense of anxiety in this strange territory, she wasn’t sure. Gradually, the fields fell away and soon Catriona and Conall were enveloped by the mountains on either side. It became a world in of itself - the many peaks and ledges offering different forms of shelter and pathways. Catriona wondered just how many people could live here without ever being detected, as she quickly realized there were also a series of cave openings along the way. Many were deceptively hidden by rocks or plants, but soon she was able to pick up on a pattern and spot some of the less concealed entrances. A quick flutter of movement disturbed the moss hanging down in front of one of the caves. Catriona strained her eyes to see what sort of animal it might have been, but whatever had been there a moment ago was gone. Conall, meanwhile, paid no mind.
“Are we very close?” Catriona asked uneasily. Her voice felt foreign in the unworldly silence.
“Very nearly, my Lady, have no fear,” Conall replied without turning his head.
Catriona muttered quietly, “I am not afraid.”
Conall halted abruptly, cupping his hands around his mouth. He then let out a ghostly howl that echoed off the rocks. As it faded, he waited, ears pricked. Just a moment later, another howl came in return - somewhat faint, still a distance off. The sound of it cheered Conall immediately - Catriona could see a marked bounce in his step as he continued leading the horse once more. They turned a final corner and came upon a large cave mouth, no longer discreetly hidden. It led into the mountain - how deep, Catriona could only guess. At the entrance stood a few men - guards armed with spears or swords. Their reaction to Catriona and Conall’s appearance was mixed. One young man - thin, wirey, and bright-eyed, left his post immediately and ran to Conall’s side. They embraced happily, the young man exclaiming in excitement - as if he hadn’t even noticed Catriona. The two remaining men did gaze upon her. The older man of the group appeared skeptical. He stood casually, weight balanced on one leg, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His face was etched with lines that added authority to his character. The remaining man must have been roughly Conall’s age. His dark brown hair fell close to his shoulders in smooth waves. His expression was one of suspicion that leered at Catriona without any pretense of manners. He stood upright, a spear in his hand - which he methodically turned as he stared at the woman on horseback.
“I can’t believe it!” The young man was still speaking to Conall. “Back in one day, and with a woman as well! You had a better night than we did, didn’t you?”
He laughed and punched Conall in the arm playfully. Conall grabbed the young man and kept him in a headlock while he ruffled the other’s hair with vigor.
“Now don’t be rude, Arran. This woman saved my life and freed me, which is plenty more than I can say for you lot, eh?”
Arran squirmed out of Conall’s grip and bounced back a few feet, still grinning. Catriona hardly knew how to read the situation. Thus far, she hadn’t even been acknowledged directly - only about spoken as if she were simply an accessory Conall had brought home. Meanwhile the two men by the entrance clearly held doubts about her presence. She cleared her throat and spoke up.
“My name is Lady Catriona,” - Catriona stopped short. She had let the Lady slip once again. And judging by the sharp looks on all three of the new mens’ faces, she could tell it didn’t sit as well with them as it did Conall. But she soldiered on. “I have come with Conall by invitation, in exchange for freeing him from Lord Hector’s encampment.”
“Aye,” Conall joined in, “I owe her my life.”
The brown haired man snorted derisively. Conall was about to call him out, when Catriona cut in instead.
“Excuse me,” she said firmly, locking eyes with the surly man. “It is no simple task sneaking through an entire camp, into a prisoner’s tent, and then out again without raising a single alarm - and I won’t have it snorted it at.”
The older man cracked a smile. “Well said, my Lady.”
He stepped down from his post and approached Catriona at last. Holding out his hand, Catriona allowed him to take hers, and he touched his lips to it briefly.
“My name is Eamon, and this unpleasant gentleman is Lenox.”
Lenox diverted his gaze self-consciously, but also lowered his guarded stance. After that moment, it seemed the tension had been broken and Catriona was welcomed into their dwelling. Arran took the horse and let it away while Conall and Eamon showed her inside. The following days were certainly an adjustment - from Lord’s wife, to hide-away rebel. While Catriona was glad to be free of the grip of her husband, she was still unaccustomed to sleeping on the ground, without luxuries or niceties. But there were other aspects of her new life that outweighed some of the less appealing changes. For the first time in many years, Catriona was in the company of women again, friendly and warm, without the mask of court hiding their true natures or intentions. To pay her keep, Catriona had volunteered to help the other women in Conall’s clan. Without hesitation, they had welcomed her into their fold - cheeks bright, smiles broad. They treated her like a new sister-in-law.
Despite this warmth, however, there was still a sort of apprehension that seemed to follow Catriona about the caves. While the women were kind, there were many moments when a conversation would be suddenly cut short and nervous glances would be cast about the room - as if they had just narrowly avoided letting something slip. The men were just as secretive, if not more so. Their reception was often mixed - while some treated her kindly, like Eamon and Arran, there were many others like Lenox who would look at her askance with suspicious eyes. There finally came a night when Catriona could no longer put up with it and she went to confront Conall is his chambers.
While she had not visited them before, Catriona knew that Conall resided alone in his own den in a particular part of the caves. She wound her way through the tunnels - they lead even further into the mountains than she could have imagined - and marched into Conall’s rooms. Her timing, unfortunately, was misjudged as she walked in to discover Conall undressing. The two of them stopped short, Catriona in the doorway and Conall standing frozen in the middle of his chambers, hands just about to remove the kilt tied around his waist. Unable to stop herself, Catriona stared openly at his body - it was marked with many scars, faded white lines that etched themselves across his chest and arms. But his figure seemed unmarred by them, blood still beating hot beneath the surface.
Conall cleared his throat. “Is there something I can do for you, my Lady?”
Catriona flushed deeply and shook her head. “Forgive me, I didn’t realize - I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Conall secured his kilt, and hastily grabbed a shirt to pull over his head. Catriona looked with regret as his muscles were quickly obscured by the fabric. “Yes?” He asked.
She did her best to put such thoughts out of her mind and focus on the point at hand. “There’s something you haven’t been telling me. Something everyone seems afraid to speak of in my presence.”
Conall smiled, but something about it seemed forced. “They’re just nervous having a noblewoman among us - it’s not something everyone here can easily accept.”
“That’s not it, I can tell you’re keeping something from me.” And it was strange, because Catriona knew for certain that was true. Conall was holding something back. She could tell this not because of everyone else’s behavior, but because of his. From the moment they had met, she knew his body language, was able to read him like an old friend. And right now, as he tried to smile, Catriona saw the shoulders slightly raised, the tension in his legs as he seemed to be holding ground - and knew exactly what that meant.
Conall caved at last, and exhaled a guilty laugh. “I suppose we can’t hide it forever, eh? Not with you living under our own roof.”
Catriona’s breath quickened. “What do you mean?”
Conall hesitated, he seemed to be searching for the right words. “Here,” he gestured, “why don’t we sit down.”
He led Catriona to his bed, a blanket of furs atop rocks, wood - Catriona wasn’t sure. They sat and Catriona couldn’t help but feel her heart beat faster as Conall took her hand in his. She hadn’t been alone with a man apart from Hector in so long…and then she began to grow anxious. Unsure of what signs to look for, the cues she would need to protect herself. But as she looked up at Conall, Catriona realized - she wouldn’t have to, of course she wouldn’t. Conall had sworn to protect her, and aside from that, she could see in every inch of his body that he meant her no harm. Conall seemed to notice her falter, and squeezed her hand in concern.
“Are you all right?” He asked, his eyebrows creasing ever so slightly. Catriona smiled at the endearing expression.
“I’m fine, I…I’ve spent so long with Hector, I didn’t think I would be safe with a man again.” She tried to brush it off, but the relief was thick in Catriona’s voice.
Conall moved closer - which might have frightened Catriona were she with anyone else, but with Conall it only felt reassuring.
“My Lady, you’re always safe with me.”
Catriona looked Conall in the eyes. They shone like gold in the low torch light. “Please,” she said, “call me Catriona.”
Conall’s expression of concern softened into one of his own relief. “Catriona,” he said softly. He lifted a hand, absently, to brush a few strands of hair from Catriona’s face; before he could draw it away again, Catriona took his hand and placed it on her cheek. Closing her eyes, she pressed her skin into the warm palm, feeling the creases of his fingers and his lifelines. Conall did not retreat, allowing Catriona to hold him there. She opened her eyes again, to see Conall’s golden eyes gazing back at her. The room was comforting and safe, and for the first time in many years, Catriona pulled someone towards her for a kiss.
Her purpose in Conall’s chambers was entirely forgotten, his imminent confession fluttered from her mind without a second thought. All she could think about was his lips on hers, his hot breath as they moved closer to one another. Too long had she gone without love, without someone who would enter her bed for her alone, for her pleasure. Conall carefully leaned Catriona back and they laid upon the furs. For just a moment, Conall pulled back.
“Are you sure?” He asked.
“Yes,” Catriona replied fervently and pulled him back towards her, “yes, please.”
Conall laughed, grinning as he left a trail of kisses down Catriona’s neck and shoulders. She gripped his hair, feeling the weight of him on top of her; she longed for this, her body growing hot as Conall continued to her collar bones and the small dip between them. Catriona could feel his body reacting in kind, and quickly they began to remove the layers that stood in their way, Conall barely letting his mouth leave her skin in the process. Catriona giggled, enjoying herself for the first time in too long. As the two of them embraced, Catriona ran her hands down Conall’s back, his sides, taking in his touch, breathing in his scent. She was about to reach between his legs, to help him along - but Conall gently stopped her hand.
“Wait,” he breathed into her ear.
He then began to travel down her body, his mouth brushing her breasts, her stomach, the sensitive skin of her thighs. Catriona’s breath caught in her throat as Conall at last placed his mouth between her legs, caressing her with his tongue, warming her with his breath. Catriona closed her eyes and let herself be washed away by the experience, almost melting into the furs as Conall slowly brought her to climax. Catriona gasped, she moaned, without realizing it - gripping the bed. She had forgotten it could be like this; she had forgotten that sweet feeling that grew within her, gradually peaking with each motion. She felt Conall run a hand up her torso, resting it on one of her breasts. She placed her hand on his, following the movement of his fingers, tracing her shape, teasing her nipple. Catriona’s back arched, her lips parted, she greedily leaned into Conall as he stroked her. Her spirit could leave her body at this point and Catriona wouldn’t have noticed or cared - finally, she was having a moment of pleasure for herself, not a distant, cold attempt to achieve a child, but simply a night to be with another person as greatly as they wished to be with her. Her mind went blank as she climaxed, her body flooded with the sensation - it had been too long. She could feel Conall’s grip tighten as she gave into it, and he worked more eagerly to keep it going. At long last she fell limp against the bed, breathing heavily, dizzy from the experience. Conall allowed her a moment’s rest, not saying anything - perhaps catching his own breath as they paused.
But Catriona would not let him wait for long. She opened her eyes and reached for him, pulled him up towards her again and they fell to kissing once more. This time Conall entered her, still tingling, and she held on to him tightly. She pulled her face away, unable to focus on their lips any longer - she buried her face in Conall’s shoulder as their hips rocked together, his thrusts going deep. Conall’s breath was hot in her ear, small moans of his own escaping his mouth as his pleasure grew. Vaguely Catriona wondered if he had been with any other women recently, but she was hardly going to let that thought distract her from the moment. They breathed together, moved together - all this time Catriona felt that somehow she and Conall had been a part of each other’s lives long before they met, and now in this moment she couldn’t feel more sure of it. Conall groaned helplessly as he came, making Catriona shiver with pleasure as he sank into her. The two of them laid in each other’s arms for some time after that, sometimes giving the other lazy kisses, or tracing their fingers along the other’s body. They didn’t speak, there was no need. Both Catriona and Conall wanted to simply take in the moment for what it was, to absorb it undiluted. Eventually sleep came to them both and they drifted into the night.
Morning crept into the caves, waking Catriona more by instinct than by light. Still content from the night before, Catriona rolled over to stretch her arm across Conall’s body. But as she did so, she discovered that he was nowhere to be seen. She sat up quickly, pulling the furs to her chest. Conall’s room was empty, quiet. Perhaps he had something to attend to early in the day - but a sense of unease couldn’t help but tug at Catriona’s heart. Perhaps the night before had been nothing but a brief tryst after all. Disoriented, Catriona gathered her things and dressed hastily.
Throughout the morning, she subtly searched the caves for Conall - asking his whereabouts as casually as she could. But by the sly grins on many of the women’s faces, she feared her state of disarray was only too obvious. After some time, a young woman by the name of Molly told Catriona where she might be able to find Conall. She had spotted him slipping away with Eamon and Lenox earlier that day, likely to visit one of their usual haunts. Catriona was pointed toward a mountain stream that curved its way into a small pond, hidden in a nearby valley. Catriona considered confronting Conall at once, but as she realized Eamon - and Lenox - would be there to witness her embarrassment, she decided to hang back before the men noticed her. She crept up carefully and obscured herself behind an outcrop of rocks. From her position, she could just make out their conversation. Conall seemed harried, pacing while Eamon stood back cooly, and Lenox gestured in irritation.
“Thank god you let her body distract you, Conall,” Lenox exclaimed. “That woman shouldn’t be here to begin with, and you were just going to hand away our secret?”
“How do you expect it to remain hidden forever? Catriona has every right to know if she’s going to be staying here -,” Conall began heatedly.
“Is she?” Lenox interjected, making it clear he desired otherwise.
Conall rounded on Lenox, coming close - his shoulders taught. “Do you expect me to simply abandon her? After what she -?”
“Please, Conall!” Lenox scoffed, “You cling too tightly to your misguided chivalry - she released you from the encampment. Why?”
“What are you talking about?” Conall practically growled.
“You tell us she is married to Lord Hector - have you ever stopped to wonder if she was meant to free you?”
Conall didn’t answer, processing Lenox’s words. Catriona’s chest tightened, aghast that Conall might consider them.
“That she was meant to lead Hector back to our camp for a slaughter?”
“Lady Catriona has been here for days, Lenox.” Eamon at last spoke up. “And there has been no sign of attack.”
“Because she’s been waiting for this fool to open his traitor mouth - .” Lenox waved his hand at Conall, but before he could drop it to his side again, the man was barreled to the ground by a dark shape.
It took Catriona a few skipped heartbeats to realize that Lenox was now being attacked by a wolf - unnaturally large, with thick dark fur. Her skin went cold, unable to move, she watched in terror as Lenox was pummeled by the wolf’s claws. Oddly Eamon barely reacted - in fact, he almost seemed annoyed by the commotion. Her eyes darted around the pond; Conall was no longer anywhere to be seen. Had he fled just as the wolf attacked? Another creature’s growls rang in Catriona’s ears and she looked back to see two animals now fighting, Lenox having disappeared in a matter of seconds. Their teeth gnashed, they clawed at each other’s hides, screaming in unnatural tones. Catriona put her hands on her ears, quaking in her hiding spot. She closed her eyes, praying for it to end without the animals coming near here. Distantly she heard Eamon shout.
“Enough!” He barked, louder than she would have expected from him.
The noises immediately died down, though a few growls and low whines lingered in the air. Reluctantly, Catriona peered around her cover once more. The two wolves were lying low at Eamon’s feet, their ears back in submission. Catriona marveled - they seemed to be under Eamon’s command. The older man looked at the now cowering animals scornfully. He stepped forward and grabbed both animals by the scruff of their necks - a feat that surely should have been impossible by their mere size.
“Acting like a pair of ill-bred pups.” He shouted, as a father would when scolding his children.
Then before Catriona’s own eyes, Conall and Lenox reappeared. She blinked. Where the wolves had strained, panting, in Eamon’s hands, now stood Conall and Lenox, their shirt collars pulled around their necks. The two of them glared at one another, faces flecked with blood and sweat. Eamon let them go roughly, causing the younger men to stumble.
“This is no way to act in front of a lady.” Eamon gestured towards Catriona’s very own hiding spot and she felt the blood drain from her face. Conall and Lenox went just as white as they realized an audience had been present all this time.
Eamon smiled, his anger seeming to dissipate as he approached Catriona. He held a hand out to her, as she was still crouching on the ground. Sheepishly, Catriona allowed him to help her up and lead her to the side of the pond with the others.
“Well, Lenox, it seems you and Conall both have given us away,” he said wryly.
Lenox stared at Catriona in shock, the color returning to his face as his cheeks went red. He turned abruptly and ran from the scene, leaving Conall to flounder on his own.
“Catriona - ,” he stammered.
But she too turned on her heel and fled.
She wasn’t sure where she was going, her body moved without thought. All Catriona knew was that she needed to get away, to think - to be alone. The caves would provide her no solitude - and the rest of the clan…were they all those things? Catriona shuddered as she realized she had been residing all these days with monsters. But last night…could a monster have truly made love to her like that? She shook her head, forcing the memory out of her mind. First she had to come to terms with what she had seen, what she had discovered.
After some time, Catriona came to a stop, slowly aware that her surroundings were no longer familiar. Her breath ran sharply through her lungs and she sat heavily upon the dew laden ground. Catriona pulled her knees close to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Wolf Shifters; she had heard tales of them as a child - men and women who would cast aside their earthly skin to become ghastly creatures that prowled the night. She furrowed her brow. The imagery didn’t match up. When Catriona thought of the people she had come to know, to live with, all she could think of were their smiles, their kind nature. And Conall…But she had seen with her own eyes how he had transformed into a snarling beast. How he tore at Lenox. Catriona’s body ran cold again, remembering the sounds that had rent the air. Catriona exclaimed in confusion, burying her face into her dress. How could it be the same man? Had she left her previous life with a monster, only to walk into the jaws of another? But no - despite all this, Catriona knew she would not, could not return to Hector. She realized grimly that she would pick supernatural shape-shifters over that wretched man any day. Granted, Catriona laughed to herself, she never expected that sort of ultimatum to present itself.
A cold breeze blew through the mountains, and with it brought a steady rain that darkened the ground around her. Catriona got to her feet, hoping the clan would allow her back amongst them. She began her return, casting about for the path to the caves only to find unmarked ground. Catriona lifted her eyes to the sky, guarding her face against the rain as best she could - the sun would tell her which direction to go. But of course it was raining, the clouds obscured her only point of direction. Catriona cursed herself. She hugged her arms close to her chest as the rain began to seep through the thick cloth of her dress. The rain could last anywhere between twenty minutes to an hour; it may not be worth the wait for it to clear. Catriona took a hold of her skirts, hiking them up out of the mud and made her way roughly in the direction she had come - hoping for the best.
Her boots were heavy with mud in a matter of minutes, slowing Catriona’s footsteps. Perhaps these mountains were enchanted like its people, she thought idly - keeping strangers away by losing them in the twists and turns of the slopes, obscuring the true path to those who did not belong. Catriona pushed the wet strands of hair from her face, rain dripping from her fingers. Perhaps the rain too was enchanted - to never end, she mused bitterly, pulling her feet from another hidden puddle. She trembled in the cold, pausing to get her bearings. The weather breathed a heavy mist through the hills, tricking her eyes to make them believe the world was constantly shifting about her. Then, as the fog dispersed, Catriona saw a figure approach. It was dark, padding along the ground with its nose down. The dark wolf. She breathed in sharply at the other worldly sight, the creature emerging from the mist. The wolf stopped at her sound, and lifted its head. His amber eyes glowed, even in the dim, dull light. The world shifted again, obscured, blurred, and then reappeared - and there was Conall, standing before her. A small tremor seemed to run through his body, which Catriona realized was Conall’s attempt to keep himself from running to her, or making any sudden movements. For a moment, neither of them moved, the silence interrupted only by the haze of the rain.
“Conall,” Catriona said at last, softly.
Conall’s face brightened with tentative hope. Catriona then held a hand out and they walked to meet each other. Conall took Catriona’s hand and gasped lightly.
“You’re frozen through,” he remarked with alarm. He put Catriona’s hands to his lips and tried to warm them with his breath.
Absently, Catriona thought she ought to have pulled away, flinched at the gesture - that mouth hid dangerous teeth after all. But when Conall stood there as he did now, as a man, nothing in her body spoke of fear, even if she tried to will it.
“I’m sorry,” Catriona said, “for running away.”
Conall shook his head. “No, I should have told you much sooner.”
Catriona breathed a laugh, her eyes falling closed without her notice. She leaned forward to rest her head against Conall’s chest - to feel the warm heartbeat within. He placed his hand on her forehead, it was soothing.
“You’re catching cold,” she heard Conall say.
Catriona didn’t reply, her body felt heavy, as if she were sinking. Suddenly Conall was lifting her from the ground, holding her in his arms. Catriona’s eyes fluttered briefly.
“This really isn’t necessary,” she muttered. Nonetheless she made no other protests.
Conall kissed her forehead and said nothing, only turned and hurried them back to the caves.
Catriona breathed in deeply, slowly. She didn’t know when she had fallen asleep, only that she was now waking among something soft and that someone was stroking her hair. She cracked an eye open to see Conall watching over her. Catriona was in his bed, curled up in the furs. It was an oddly familiar sensation - comfortable, safe.
“So you’re wolves, eh?” She said with a small grin.
Conall himself smiled sheepishly, “I wish you could have seen me in a better light. Lenox just…”
“Gets your hackles up?” Catriona offered.
Conall looked at her pointedly, which made Catriona grin all the more.
“What does this mean for me?” She asked, more seriously. “Or for us?”
With a sigh, Conall laid his head on the bed - bent over where he sat. He jogged one leg uncertainly, closing his eyes in thought.
“You can stay here, nothing has to change if you don’t want it to.”
“And if Hector finds this place?”
“He already has.”
Catriona bolted upright. “What?” How could Conall sit there so simply and deliver that news.
“Some of our scouts have returned, having sighted his camp moving in.” Conall looked up, “they came back while you were resting, I didn’t want to wake you with bad news.”
“Well, good lord, Conall - how much time do we have?” Catriona could feel her throat tightening as her heart tried to force its way upwards.
“Eamon and the others are making preparations now. We should be able to move everyone by nightfall.”
“Move everyone? What? Do you mean we’re simply abandoning this place?” Catriona’s anxiety was quickly replaced by confusion. She pushed the furs aside and got out of bed to retrieve the rest of her clothes - the outer layers having been removed to dry. Conall sat up, alarmed, but Catriona paid him no mind as she re-dressed herself.
“We have done it before,” Conall stated simply.
Catriona stopped in her tracks and looked to Conall. “How many times?”
Conall shrugged. “Too many to count after all these years. We have to keep our people hidden. If it there is too much of a risk, we find somewhere else.”
The thought was hard to stomach. How many times had the clan been forced out of their home, only to find the next one knowing it would not last? Catriona’s expression grew steely, and Conall must have noticed because he straightened up with worry.
“What are you thinking?” He asked.
“You’re not moving,” Catriona replied flatly.
At this, Conall stood up. “Excuse me?” He almost laughed, “Catriona -.”
“No,” she interrupted, “I will not have my husband ruin another life. I cannot account for the others in your past who have done you wrong, but if it is Hector who is to threaten you, all of us - then I must do something.”
Conall shook his head, a bewildered smile crossing his lips. He crossed the room to Catriona and put his hands on her hips. Catriona held her chin high, worried Conall was going to attempt to talk her out of it.
“Then what is your plan, my Lady?” He simply asked.
That night, the clan gathered around a large bonfire in part of the caves that led deep into the mountain. The heat filled the room, making the air dance above them as it swam to the high arching ceiling. It had taken some convincing but with Eamon’s support, Catriona and Conall were able to present their plan. Hector would be upon them by morning; those who could not fight would hold down the caves - lock off entryways, disguise passageways, turn their homes into a trap for the Englishmen should it come to that. Many had been hesitant, but shockingly enough, the one to win support for the plan was Lenox. He had approached Catriona and Conall grudgingly, unreadable - until he turned to the listening crowd and voiced his eagerness to fight for their home at last. Too long had they been hiding behind the image of rebels, when all they truly did was turn tail and run at the first sight of danger. The room murmured with agreement and dissent at his words, but in the end, their pride and eagerness for a battle at long last won out.
Now, as they passed drinks around the fire, Eamon stood to raise what might become a final toast.
“It’s been some time since any of us have seen real battle. Skirmishes certainly,” he tipped his glass to a certain group in the corner who whooped loudly. “But tomorrow could cost us blood, and lives. Let’s make sure we’ve made them worthwhile, eh?”
He let out a howl that echoed loudly through the chamber. It was taken up by the rest of the pack, ringing in all different tones as the voices melted into one. Catriona could feel it shake through her bones, stirring up something primeval in her soul. A part of her that longed to howl and dance like an animal too. Somewhere in the room, someone took up a drum while someone else took up the penny whistle. Soon the room was moving with more than just air, but with bodies. The clan did dance - celebrating, and preparing their souls for what may come. The energy grew and grew until men and women were embracing, shedding clothes, taking to the furs in heady delight. Catriona’s eyes dazzled in the light, sweat trickled down her neck as she swayed to the drums, in Conall’s arms. She gave way to the passion of the room, kissing Conall deeply, clinging to him in an almost desperate hunger. There was no longer anything outside of this moment. Tomorrow didn’t exist - there was only now, and them, and the clan, and the life they would create for those that may be lost.
Dizzy with energy, Catriona and Conall tumbled together to the floor, fumbling for what they could remove - joining those already in ecstasy. The fire burned brightly, even behind her eyelids. Catriona felt as if she could almost see Conall’s specter with her eyes closed, his gold aura shining before her as they made love once more. The beat of the drums pulsated through her body, their bodies, pulling them ever closer. Conall’s hands explored her skin as she lay on top of him and she groaned with pleasure as he slipped his fingers into her, massaging her lips as they grew wet. Catriona bit into Conall’s neck, running her tongue against him. He took this as encouragement and bent his fingers, making Catriona gasp. She wouldn’t allow him to finish her there, however - she wanted to be together, in every sense of the word. She kissed him, and whispered this to Conall. He ran his fingers along her one more time, sending shivers through Catriona’s body, then let himself slide into her as Catriona pushed him in deep. The room was alive with pleasure, with voices cooing and moaning and gasping, all to one purpose. Catriona sat up, arching her back into Conall’s movements. With one hand on her hip, Conall held her steady, while he reached with his other hand to grasp her breast. Briefly, Catriona opened her eyes, gazing up at the ceiling - the embers of the fire swirled above them like stars, caught up in the trails of the smoke, and the collective breath of the pack as they all seemed to breathe as one.
Catriona inhaled sharply, her vision going hazy as she climaxed. It grew deep within her, spreading from her legs, into a swarming heat that traveled up her stomach and through her chest. She let out a cry - one she was almost surprised to hear from her own mouth. Beneath her, Catriona heard Conall exclaim as well, his grip tightening on her as his body trembled with the force of it. The both of them gasped, breathing deeply as if all the air had been drawn from them.
It was a moment before Catriona came back to her senses, now lying next to Conall on the floor. He ran a hand down her cheek, gently, his eyes warm and wavering. He moved in closer, leaving small kisses on Catriona’s cheeks, her lips, her eyelids.
“You must promise to be careful tomorrow morning,” Conall spoke softly.
Catriona smirked, “I ought to be telling you that, shouldn’t I?”
“I’m not the one carrying a new life within me,” Conall placed a hand on Catriona’s stomach. Catriona’s eyes widened, putting her own hand atop his.
“Good lord, you wolves are potent,” she said before thinking.
Conall blinked in shock at the comment, clearly expecting a different sort of reaction. Then the two of them broke into laughter, unable to contain themselves. Catriona took Conall’s face in her hands and kissed him — eagerly, happily, savoring the moment for all it was worth.
Morning came slowly, allowing the night to step away at its own pace, along with the mist that blanketed the ground. Catriona stood alone near the base of the mountains - not far from the path that she and Conall had traveled on their first journey. She waited, wrapped in a heavy cloak that hung draped from her shoulders. The blood rose to her cheeks against the cold, contrasting sharply against her pale skin as she watched Hector and his men approach. He advanced with a large army of men and horses - they had seen her from some distance away, and deemed it safe to approach for a parley of sorts. Catriona watched with steely eyes as Hector drew his horse before her and looked down from the saddle.
“My darling wife,” he said without affection, “I thought you dead - having been taken captive by these ruthless men.”
It was clear that was the fate he wished for her - perhaps that was the excuse he had been using amongst his friends at court. Catriona wondered why he bothered to put on this show now. Hector tossed Catriona’s knife to the ground with distain. Her heart fluttered for a moment, having forgotten the small weapon long ago. Hector knew the truth, how could he not? If the day proved fatal for the Shifters, the look in Hector’s eyes made it plain that it would be her last as well. Only a short time ago, this would have made Catriona tremble, would have sent a chill through her bones. But now, she lifted her chin and returned his stare.
“We’re offering you a chance to surrender, before there is any needless bloodshed.” She told him calmly.
As expected, Hector laughed, throwing back his head - his men joined in, as always, and the army rippled with their amusement before Hector waved a hand for silence.
“Their own, I’m sure. My Lady -.”
Catriona’s skin rankled as the words passed Hector’s lips. She was no longer his.
“Step aside, or die like an animal along your new friends.” He drew his sword, signaling to his men who too readied their weapons.
“They are not the animals, Hector,” Catriona said - and then all hell broke loose. The wolves burst from the mountains, Conall and his people. They charged the field in their shifted forms, howling and snarling, without warning. Half of Hector’s men fled immediately at the sight, scrambling to turn their terrified horses as dozens of the huge beasts streamed towards them, teeth bared. Those who remained to fight stood little chance. Catriona watched, transfixed, as men were dragged from their saddles - fangs sunk into their legs - or toppled to the ground as wolves heaved their entire bodies against the horses. Where silence hung only moment ago, now the clamor of battle rang. For a moment, it seemed victory would be an easy thing - but as soon one of the men managed to land a blow, he took courage in the sight of the creature’s blood. He cried out, to rally the men, and they returned with renewed vigor to their fight. The wolves flagged, only slightly but enough to allow Hector’s men a better footing on the battleground. Still Catriona did not - could not - move, gazing from the sidelines as men and wolves alike began to soak the grass with the red stains of their blood. Her eyes searched the melee for Conall, for his dark fur and a flash of his amber eyes, but there was no discerning wolf from wolf in this confusion. A wretched yowl pierced the air and Catriona saw one of her comrades fall to the ground, the animal form shed as he lie in the dirt. Arran - the young man Catriona had met upon her arrival. A wound on his side bled freely as he tried to scramble back to his feet - but the soldier before him was already raising his sword again.
Without thinking, Catriona grabbed her discarded knife from the ground and ran into the fight. She had no idea what she was going to do, she could only move forward. Throwing herself at the man, Catriona managed to leap on to the man’s back. He exclaimed in anger and confusion as he tumbled to the ground. Arran watched with shocked amazement as Catriona dug the knife into the enemy’s arm - it wasn’t sharp enough to do much damage at this point, but it was enough to keep him from picking up his sword. The man howled in pain. Catriona pulled out the knife and gazed in disbelief at her work, but there was little time to pause. Suddenly Arran had his arm around her and was pulling her away, staggering as they both ducked for cover and made it out of harm’s way.
They collapsed on the grass, far enough from the fight. Arran panted. “Conall would never forgive me if I let you stay out there,” he said with a strained laugh.
Catriona removed her cloak, all she had at hand, and began to dress Arran’s wound. She looked back at the field distractedly, her terror growing - how many more would be hurt, or be killed before Hector would retreat? As if he could hear her thought echoed across the field, Hector appeared before them, his sword dripping. He spotted Catriona, and a flame seemed to burst in his eyes; he hefted his weapon in his hands and began to charge the woman and the injured man. Catriona took hold of Arran and turned her face away, closing her eyes tightly. But a vicious growl was heard, and Catriona turned her head again to see Conall - at last - crashing into Hector with great force. Conall pinned the Lord to the ground; the body of a man was nothing when weighed down beneath the huge body of a wolf. Conall sunk his teeth into Hector’s arm, forcing him to release his sword. Hector cried out in agony, clawing at the great wolf with his other hand, but it did little. Conall then brought his face close to Hector’s, baring his teeth so that the saliva dripped from them onto Hector’s clothes. The wolf’s hackles stood on end, his ears back, nose wrinkled and drawn. Hector gazed up at the creature before him in terror - trapped.
“Hector!” Catriona called to him, her own voice turned into a growl.
He looked to his former wife helplessly.
She offered no help, only this; “Leave this place - leave Scotland or you will die here.” To back up her statement, Conall snapped his teeth, causing Hector to yelp in fear. The words barely made it from his throat - but he swore, swore to retreat, to remove his men and return to England without word of what had happened there that day. It was that or have his head torn from his body - and Catriona knew how fond he was of keeping it there.
The battle had not been without its losses. The bodies of the fallen were gathered, and Catriona’s heart stung as she saw Lenox’s face among them. Conall reassured her that the man would have been happy with such a death, but the words would take time to truly sooth her. She leaned into Conall and let him hold her tight. They had driven Hector’s men away at last. Catriona thought grimly that more armies could come. Word may still spread of their presence in the mountains, if not the story of their supernatural secret. But as she thought of the child that would soon grow within her, Catriona could only look to the future with hope and happiness.
That night beneath the stars, they held another celebration. More somber but still with spirit. The clan made a bonfire for their lost ones, honored them with story and song - and most importantly with drink. Catriona sat with Conall, a sweet sadness in her chest as she watched the people who had so quickly become her new family say farewell to Lenox and the others. Conall placed his hand on hers and Catriona looked to him.
He brushed a few strands of hair from her face and tucked them behind her ear. “You know, I do have to thank Hector for something.”
Catriona balked. “What on earth could you possibly have to thank him for?”
“You.” Conall smiled. “Had I not ended up being captured - like a fool, I must say,” he chuckled, “we never would have had the chance to meet.”
Catriona blushed despite herself. “That is true. I have to congratulate you on being such an incompetent little rebel.” She needed him, poking her fingers into his ribs.
Conall laughed and grabbed Catriona, keeping her from any further attacks. Catriona squirmed with delight, giggling. “Unhand me!”
“No, I’m afraid you’ve wounded my pride while I was trying to be romantic,” Conall teased, holding his grip.
Catriona kicked her legs, managing to push them both over onto the ground. With a bit of effort she pushed herself closer to Conall’s face. He looked up at her coyly.
“Well, if you shan’t let me go, I shall simply have to overpower you,” she said with a smirk.
Conall was going to reply with another clever quip, but before he could do so, Catriona kissed him. He breathed another laugh and released his hold on her. Catriona pulled her head up.
“Oh, you give up so easily!” She exclaimed. But Conall shushed her and pulled her back to his lips with a smile. They kissed tenderly, not with the excitement of the night before but with the contentment of knowing they were safe, and in each other’s arms.
The fire burned brightly, warming the two lovers, and the rest of the pack. That day marked a new life for them all - Catriona had found her new home, and the clan had at last laid claim to one of their own. Who knew if the future would bring more enemies, more fights to be fought - but they knew where they stood, and the clan would never let another army drive them away.
THE END
DRAGON LORD
“I don’t see why I have to be married off to such a loathsome man!”
Alva McCraig circled around her brother, matching his strikes as well as any male swordsman in the land. Their father, Lord McCraig, found her penchant for sword fighting with her brothers unacceptable for a young woman of her stature. He only allowed it as long as she maintained her duties in a society that treated her like a delicate flower, which she abhorred. The only female in a house of six brothers and a mother long passed into her grave, she was more tomboy than lady.
Alva never fit in at the society functions, but her father trotted her to all of them, hoping to marry her off to an eligible member of their rank and file. Recently, he had found success with Lord MacEwan, a man she found as unattractive in looks as well as in personality. Though she had only met the man briefly during a grand ball, he was rumored to be arrogant, ruthless and aggressive. She couldn’t imagine being married to such a man.
“You know that this will seal the peace treaty between our clans.”
“So, I am to be trotted off to get married to someone I despise in order for everyone else to be safe and secure.”
“That is pretty much the case, yes.”
Infuriated by the notion, she quickly countered his thrust and dropped her boot behind his leg, knocking him off kilter and bringing him to the ground. His sword flew from his hand and she stood over him with the tip of hers touching his breast. Smiling down at him, she held him there a moment longer than necessary before pulling the sword away.
“I’d rather fight.”
“Yes, we all know you would. I’d wager that you’d come out victorious too.”
She watched as his body changed, shifting before her eyes. A large black wolf with bright yellow eyes slid easily from beneath her sword and stood looking at her from just beyond the edge. It was something she could never get used to, seeing her brothers shift into wolves as it suited them. She was deeply envious of the ability. Just as quickly as he changed into a beast, he reformed into his human state. He stood smiling at her, still wearing the tattered clothes that had ripped apart in the transformation.
“I hate it when you do that.”
“You just hate that you can’t do that.”
“It is entirely unfair not being able to shift. Our family is one of the original clans in Scotland. We’ve been here for thousands of years and are full of wolf shifters, everyone but me, it seems.”
“Not just you, but all the females in the family. You act as if being a woman is a curse. You have no idea how good you have it. We have to work. We have to fight. You get married off to some fancy Lord and instantly create peace while moving into his wealthy estate and being waited on hand and foot.”
“You think being a woman is that easy, huh? You’d feel differently if you were subjected to the pawing of a man you don’t care for and forced to bear his children.”
“I wonder what they’ll be?”
“What do you mean? They’ll be children.”
“No. I mean will they shift into wolves? I hear that the MacEwans are dragon shifters. You might have a son that shifts into a fire breathing wolf or a howling dragon!”
“Are you seriously making light of my predicament? I should have sunk the sword into your chest before you shifted!”
“You’d never do that to me. You love me.”
“Yes. You are my sixth favorite brother.”
“You’ve a sharp tongue, Sis. I hope you intend to temper that with Lord MacEwan. Peace treaty won’t be a lasting long if he doesn’t treat you well.”
“Of course. I will be a perfect lady so that all the land may have peace while I have peril.”
“You shouldn’t look at it like that. You might enjoy all the finery you’ll be granted. There’s hope that you’ll be a lady, after all!”
Alva swatted at him playfully as he dodged her hand and laughed. He grabbed his sword and motioned for her to come back with him. She followed behind, still scowling. He was lucky that he wasn’t female. He would never have to suffer being married off as if he were livestock being traded for barley. It was demeaning. If her mother were alive, somehow, Alva thought she would not have allowed such a thing to happen to her.
“There is nothing unladylike about me. You just don’t want to admit that you had to shift into your wolf form because you were defeated by a girl!”
Alva laughed playfully as she pulled her long honey wheat hair out of the neat bun it had been pinned into and shook it free about her shoulders. Her bright blue eyes twinkled in the sunlight as her laughter sang along the pines that surrounded them in the nearby forest. She might well be a tomboy and given to sport with her brothers, but she was one of the most beautiful girls in the land. There was many a saddened suitor who had sought her heart and failed.
Walking into the house, she considered the misfortune of having been so picky about who she would like to marry only to have the choice taken away from her. There had been some boys she had dated that would have been preferable to Lord MacEwan, but she had not known a day like this would come. She told herself that there was no rush to marry though some would deem her an old maid. Her mother had loved her father very much and that is what she wanted for herself, a house filled with love and devotion.
“It’s not fair!”
The words she uttered to herself still echoed along the walls of her childhood home. She looked around, knowing it would be far behind her soon. She would live elsewhere with a man she did not care for. He would take her as his wife and she would bear his children. The thought made her shudder. Children were wonderful and beautiful, but not something she had ever envisioned for herself. She had believed she would find someone as passionate as herself given to adventure and fun. There would be none of that where she was going. Of that, she was certain.
It seemed like the day to leave for Lord MacEwan’s estate had arrived before she knew it. The servants had all of her things neatly packed and loaded into the carriage that would take her to her new home. Giving it one last shot, she begged her father for a change of heart.
“Please, I’m begging you. Don’t’ send me off to that horrid excuse of a man.”
“You hardly know him, Alva. You might be well surprised how well suited for one another you are.”
“Exactly! I hardly know him and I’m being shipped to him like a neatly wrapped gift. How could you do this to me?”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Alva. You’ll quickly be an old maid if I leave it up to you to choose a husband. You’d rather spar with your brothers than court a suitable mate. This pairing will create a much needed peace between our clans and I think you’ll find it isn’t as unpleasant as you think.”
“You have no idea if it will be unpleasant for me or not! You don’t care!”
“Of course I care. You are my only daughter. Just give it a chance, Alva. You’ll do just fine.”
“So you say. I’ll never forgive you for this. Never!”
Her father looked at her forlornly as she hugged each of her brother’s goodbye, tears falling down her face. Moments later, she was seated in the carriage and on her way to her new life. It felt like a death sentence as she made the three-day journey, stopping periodically in towns along the way for food and rest. At each rest stop, she contemplating running away, but she had no means of support and nowhere to go. Far worse could happen to her out on her own than having to marry a man she didn’t care for.
The trip seemed endless, each day felt like she would just be traveling forever, never really getting anywhere. The idea of running still occurred to her each day. Her thoughts whirled with considerations of where she could go and how she could survive. She could cut her hair, strap down her chest and don the clothing of a man. She was good enough with a sword to pass herself off with the best of them. Still, it was frightening to consider. The question was really just if it was more frightening than the destination toward which she traveled.
“Finally!”
She looked out the window as the carriage pulled to a halt in front of the great castle belonging to Lord MacEwan. It was quite the sight with its large towers and heavily guarded walls. To Alva, it looked more like a prison than a place to be happy. She doubted that she could ever see such a place as home. As the door opened, she found that she was greeted by Lord MacEwan himself, standing just outside of it with a large smile and open arms.
“Ah, there is my beautiful bride. It is so nice to have you arrived for our blessed nuptials. Shall we get you settled in and then partake in a bit of celebration?”
“Thank you. Of course. That would be divine.”
It wasn’t divine. It wasn’t at all, but she had no choice but to play the role she had been assigned. Lord MacEwan was not unattractive, but there was something about him, something dark and sinister. He was well known to be a ruthless pillager and unyielding overlord to the people that inhabited the lands surrounding his castle. He was feared by all and liked by none. He was not the sort of man to which Alva had ever considered she would be married. She silently cursed her father once more and feigned happiness as she was led up to her chambers.
Her arrival was celebrated with great fanfare. Lord MacEwan had arranged for the local society types to come out for a great feast to welcome her with open arms. So far, it wasn’t too bad, but she still felt incredibly nervous and sullen about the entire situation. Though he was quite pleasant to her, there was something amiss about him. She had sensed it the first time they had met and it was even stronger now that she had arrived at his palace.
It didn’t take long to see exactly what the problem was. Lord MacEwan was nothing in private like he was in public. The hospitable, considerate man that had greeted her was just a façade for the cold, rude man that confronted her behind closed doors. She shrank back a bit as he issued orders for how she would and would not behave within the walls of his home. It was quite obvious that this place truly never would be her home, only his. She didn’t belong here, but that is something she had known prior to her arrival.
“Make no mistake. You aren’t exactly the sort of woman I intended to marry. You’re attractive enough, I will give you that, but you have the manners of an uneducated tart and I won’t tolerate being embarrassed by you. You will attend private classes I have set up from a proper Lady in hopes that you might learn how to present yourself.”
“There is nothing wrong with my manners!”
“There is everything wrong with your manners. If you had any, you would know that it is not proper to address me with such sullen indignation. I have no time for such games.”
“Games? You insulted me! I’m not allowed to defend my own honor?”
“You are not allowed to talk back to me. I assure you that I will not hesitate to lash your backside for it. Also, I won’t have any of this nonsense of your sword fighting. It is improper and it is not allowed.”
“You can’t tell me what I can and cannot do!”
“Oh, but I can and I just did. You and I will be married tomorrow and you will do exactly as I tell you. Don’t forget that the peace between your clan and mine depends on this union. It would be a shame for your stubbornness to bring about harm to your kin. If you think for a moment that I will hesitate to break the peace treaty just because you bat your eyelashes at me, then you are sorely mistaken. You mean nothing to me. I was in need of a bride and your father was cowardly enough to hand over his only daughter in exchange for my not slaughtering your entire clan. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Alva glared at him but said nothing. There was really nothing she could say that would make a difference. There was really nothing she could do. If she talked back, if she ran, if she did anything to cross him, her family would pay the price. Though her brothers were wolf shifters and usually very capable of taking care of themselves in battle, they had never had to battle dragons. If what was said of the MacEwan clan was true, it might be a match they could not win.
“Very well. I will do as you ask, but only because I really haven’t a choice it seems.”
“I am glad we have come to an understanding. I will have a servant show you back to your quarters. I suggest you remain there for the rest of the evening and not burden me with your presence.
“That suits me just fine. Have a pleasant evening.”
Alva tried to keep her tone polite and respectful, though she was seething inside. This place would be misery for her. Already she missed her brothers and her father. Tomorrow was a dreaded day. Once she was married to Lord MacEwan, he would expect things of a carnal nature from her. The thought made her skin crawl. The man didn’t even like her and would paw at her like the animal he was. There wasn’t much she found more revolting than the thought of pleasuring the likes of him.
As the sun rose the next day, Alva found herself feeling quite ill. It was all she could do to get out of bed and begin getting ready for the big day. Within moments of her rising, the room was flooded with giddy servant girls, all eager to help her into her wedding gown and do her hair. They doted on her as if she were a princess, something Alva had never been or wanted to be. Though when they were done and she looked at herself in the large mirror standing to one side of the room, she had to admit, she looked the part. Other than the terrible emptiness she could see in her own eyes, she was quite the perfect bride.
“Ah, there is my beautiful betrothed!”
Alva turned toward the sound of Lord MacEwan’s voice. He was dressed in a very fine suit sewn with rich mahogany and gold threading. His boots were polished to a sparkle. He wasn’t a bad looking man, but it did nothing to hide what he was beneath his handsome exterior. She had heard about his raids upon nearby villages under the guise of cleaning up the realm. They were nothing more than pillagings as far as she was concerned. It was a condition of the marriage that they be stopped. She reminded herself of the good coming from this union as she feigned a smile in return.
“Do you find me suitable for the day then?”
He frowned at her. Though she had said it in the most pleasant manner, the sarcastic meaning had not escaped him. Rather than replying, he turned neatly and walked away. Alva smiled to herself a bit as she heard this boots retreating down the nearby steps. Hopefully, he would not return before the ceremony. The less she saw of him, the better it would be.
The wedding itself was beautiful. If Alva had wanted to wed in the first place, she could imagine that this might have been a dream wedding for any girl. Instead, it felt more like a death sentence and her veil, a shroud. It was all she could do to maintain her composure without crying until it was done, reciting her vows through clenched teeth and smiling broadly as the priest pronounced them man and wife. Once the despicable deed was done, they turned and presented themselves to the crowd in attendance.
A loud cheer went up through the guests as the newly married couple made their way back down the aisle to a grand reception in the great hall of the castle. Alva played her part as expected, dying a little inside as she thought of the wedding night that would follow. Though she had dated a little, she had never done experienced more than a light kiss from a suitor at the end of the outting. Now, here she was about to be most personal with a man she barely knew, husband or not. Her thoughts were disrupted by a man’s voice behind her.
“We haven’t met.”
Alva turned to see the most beautiful man she thought she had ever laid eyes on. His flaxen curly hair was pulled back in a loose knot, but strands of it fell around his chiseled jawline. The light seemed to dance in his playful blue eyes as he looked at her thoughtfully and smiled, perfect white teeth visible beyond soft, full lips. He was tall and muscular. Mostly, he was just breathtaking.
“I suppose we haven’t. Alva McCraig. Well, I suppose I am Lady MacEwan now.”
“Heath MacEwan. It is a pleasure to meet my new sister in law.”
“Oh! You are Lord MacEwan’s brother! I didn’t know you had made it for the ceremony.”
“Yes. A bit late, as usual. It’s a bit of a family joke that I’m never anywhere on time. I apologize for my tardiness. I actually made only the very end of the nuptials. You are quite a striking bride.”
“Thank you.”
The two of them stood for a moment wordlessly, just looking at one another. There was an odd chemistry in the air about them. Alva felt like she was being pulled to him in a way she couldn’t describe. Just as quickly as the feeling had come over her, it was dispelled by the appearance of her new husband.
“Well, I see you have met my new bride, brother. I’m surprised you made it before our first child was born.”
A shudder went through Alva and she shivered visibly. Lord MacEwan seemed to miss it, but his brother didn’t. She noticed that he looked at her and smiled a little before looking back at his brother.
“Always so quick with the acerbic wit. That’s why I do love you so, brother.”
“I’m sure. How long do you intend to stay here on our good graces then, Heath?”
“I don’t know. I had just intended to pop in for your wedding nuptials and then be on my way, but I think now I might just stay a while. I trust you have plenty of room for your darling brother?”
Alva could feel Heath looking in her direction as he said the words and thought she might blush right there in front of the both of them. Instead, she excused herself, making her way far enough away to break the spell cast about her by Heath’s mere presence. What was it about him that she found so irresistible? It wasn’t as if it mattered. She was now a married woman and he was her husband’s brother. Still, he did something to her when he was near. It had been instantaneous.
The celebration went on for hours, leaving Alva exhausted. She had gotten little rest between her travels here, yesterday’s celebration and today’s wedding events. All she wanted to do was sleep, but she suspected that wouldn’t be on her agenda either. When she finally made it to her room, she sat brushing her hair in front of the mirror in her sleeping gown. A sense of dread was knotted up in her stomach, causing her to feel positively ill. When she heard Lord MacEwan’s footsteps approaching, she was terribly afraid she was going to purge at any moment.
“I think that was just a lovely wedding, don’t you?”
“Yes. I’d say that it was a spectacular event. You put on a grand show. I’ll give you that.”
He approached her, his hand reaching out to brush away some hair from her shoulder. His face was only inches from hers and she waited for him to kiss her, praying that she could get through this. Instead, she heard his voice, clear and concise, in her ear.
“Don’t worry, my dear wife. You’ll not be suffering my loins this evening or any other until I feel it is time to bear a child. Only then will I stomach the likes of your flesh. You are hardly my type. You will maintain separate quarters and you will tell no one that you remain untouched by your dearly devoted husband.”
With that, he turned and left the room. Alva stood looking after him, bewildered. A part of her was relieved that he had no intention of fouling her this day, but it was still very confusing that he had no desire to consummate the marriage. Instead of pondering the reasons, she elected to be grateful. She suddenly felt a lot more lighthearted. She would worry about that whole child bearing thing when it became necessary.
The following morning, she made her way downstairs to venture out onto the grounds. Lord MacEwan had already left to see to some business that would take him away for at least a week, so she would have the run of the place while he was gone. It was a lovely day and she thought that going for a ride might be nice. It wasn’t something she was sure he would let her do when he was here, so best to take the opportunity while he was away.
“What are you doing, Lady MacEwan?”
Alva turned to find herself looking into the smiling face of Heath. He stood leaning against the inner walls of the stable, watching as she examined the horses to determine which might be suitable to take out for a ride. They were beautiful animals, the finest stock, but being out on the wrong horse could be dangerous for a woman riding alone. She was about to seek out a stable hand to prepare a suitable beast when she found herself face to face with Heath.
“I thought I might go for a ride, but I know nothing of these horses. I’m not sure which one I should take.”
“Well, then you are lucky I am here. I was thinking of taking a ride myself.”
“Then, you will join me?”
Alva wasn’t sure why the idea made her feel so giddy, or maybe she was sure but refused to acknowledge it. She was attracted to Heath in a way that she certainly didn’t feel for her husband. In all honesty, it was probably best that she keep her distance. Looking at him standing there smiling back at her, she knew she wouldn’t do so.
“I think it sounds like a most wonderful idea.”
Heath called in one of the stable hands to prepare two of the horses for riding while he chatted with her to one side of the stable.
“I hear that you are an excellent swords woman, Lady MacEwan.”
“Please. I feel like someone’s old aunt. Call me Alva.”
“Very well. Alva it shall be.”
“I am okay with a sword I suppose.”
“Better than just okay from what I am told. I’d love to see a demonstration of your skills.”
“Nothing would delight me more, but your brother has forbidden it now that we are wed.”
“He did, did he?”
“Yes. He was very adamant about my being a lady.”
“Of course. Appearances are everything to my brother, after all. I tell you what. Let’s have a little secret. You and I will practice on our ride. We can go out to the moors and no one will see.”
“Really? I would adore that. Are you sure he won’t find out? If I do anything to break the peace between our clans . . ..”
“Peace? Is that how he conned such a sweet and beautiful woman into marrying the likes of him? I should have known it was not for the sake of love. I mean, I am assuming you don’t love him.”
“Love him? I hardly even know him. I only saw him once before I came here to be married to him. My father arranged this.”
“It all makes perfect sense then. Enough of this small talk about unfortunate events. Let’s ride, shall we?”
The ride through the woods and onto the moors well beyond them was euphoric. Alva felt like she was as free as the wind that whirled about her. They settled into an area blanketed all around by a thicket of trees. If anyone were to happen into the area, they should well hear them in the branches before they reached them. Tying off the horses to a nearby tree, the two prepared to fight. Alva was unhappy without her own sword, but the spare one he had brought would have to do.
The time flew by as they sparred playfully with one another. Heath was an expert swordsman himself and was very good with pointers on how to improve her stance and thrust. She loved that he didn’t come across as condescending or act as if she was less inept because she was female.
“Here, let me show you something.”
Alva watched as he lay down his sword and walked over to where she was standing. Walking around her, he put his arms around her and took both her hands in his, positioning the sword they held and demonstrating a well-balanced swing designed to disrupt her opponents grip on his weapon. As he moved with her, his body pressed gently against hers, his muscles rippling as he flexed upward. It sent a shiver through her that didn’t go unnoticed. He stepped away and turned to face her.
“Are you cold out here?”
“Um, no. I just had a chill. It passed.”
He looked down at her, searching her face and then something unexpected happened. Before Alva realized what was going on, he cupped her chin in his hands and tilted her face toward him, bringing his lips to her own. Her sword fell to her side as she took in the taste of his hungry mouth upon hers. Her heart thudded in her chest. Everything about this felt so right, except . . . it was wrong. She yanked away.
“Heath, your brother! I just married him yesterday.”
“I’m sorry, Alva. I just got carried away. You’re so beautiful and he’ll never appreciate that about you.”
“Perhaps he will. I haven’t given him a chance and here I am out on the moors acting like a common tart with his brother!”
“Trust me when I say he won’t, but I suppose it is not my place to make that assessment. I apologize if my kiss offended you, but I’m not sorry that I did it.”
Alva studied his face closely as he continued to meet her gaze. She couldn’t help but think that he was beautiful. Perhaps she had never seen a more beautiful man in her life, in fact. It seemed like an odd thing to say about a man who was so obviously virile and strong, but the thought remained. Before she could stop herself, she leaned forward and kissed him again.
His lips tasted divine on hers as his arms wrapped tightly around her, pulling their bodies closer. She sighed deeply as his mouth drifted down the side of her neck, kissing her pale, delicate skin. This was wrong. She knew that, but there was something about Heath that she couldn’t deny. The way she wanted him was something she would never share with his brother and she found she couldn’t stop. Her hands tangled in his long curls as his kisses fell across the exposed tops of her breasts.
“Heath, please . . . “
“You want me to stop?”
He paused, looking up at her breathlessly. The look of desire in his eyes was unmistakable. She could only imagine that it mirrored her own. She didn’t want him to stop, but she knew this wasn’t right. No matter what she thought of her husband.
“I just. What we are doing is wrong.”
“It doesn’t feel wrong to me. In fact, I wish that for once in my life that I had not been late. If I had gotten here before the ceremony, I would have put a stop to it on first sight of you. You were positively radiant in your dress, but you looked so sad. I knew you were not marrying my brother for love. Later, I found out it was arranged and why.”
“Still, Heath. I am married to him now.”
“My brother will never love you, Alva. He isn’t the sort to fall in love with a woman. I was halfway in love with you when I laid eyes on you.”
“How could we ever be together, Heath?”
“For now, like this. Out here, there is no one to bother us. He is gone. We are completely alone. Perhaps by the time he figures it out, we will find a way.”
She stood looking at him a moment longer, at his sharp jawline, regal in appearance. It didn’t take a huge push to realize that she felt the same immediate pull toward him as he did to her. Her head nodded slightly as he pulled her close again, kissing her even more deeply than before. They were soon lost in one another, consumed by the other, giving in to their needs.
Heath lay her gently in the grass, slowly stripping her clothing off layer by layer. His lips trailed every inch of her skin as it became exposed to the glorious sunlight beaming down upon them from above. She let go of feeling this was wrong. It felt right. It felt so completely right that she knew she would do whatever she must do to stay with him.
Her back arched upward toward his touch as he parted her legs and kissed her untouched folds. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before as he slowly toured her pussy with his tongue, kissing and licking his way along each and every inch. She felt herself growing wetter, reacting to his touch. Her heart raced and pulse quickened as she drew in a sharp breath.
She watched as he stopped for a moment, smiling down at her as he stripped free of his clothes. His body was spectacular, muscle and sinew. She tried not to stare at his manhood, standing fully erect. Though she should be afraid of what was happening, she found that she felt no doubt, no fear. Being with Heath would be the most natural thing in the world.
“You look so beautiful like that, all spread out on the ground, naked for me.”
“Heath, I’ve never done this before. I don’t know what to do.”
“There is nothing to know, Alva. Just feel your way.”
He sank back down to the ground beside her, taking her in his arms again and kissing her. The fire she had felt before was renewed, burning deeper than even moments before. His hand found its way between her legs, his fingers slowly parting her center and massaging her as she squirmed beneath his gentle touch. Their eyes locked together, his watching as hers grew darker with desire. Her moans scattered across the wind blowing through the meadow.
“I love the way your pussy drips along my fingers. You feel like wet velvet on my skin.”
Alva blushed at his words. It was new to have a man be intimate with her, much less be so vulgar in his description of her lady parts. She found it oddly titillating. Her excitement only grew as he continued to massage her gently until she could feel a pressure welling up inside her, as if she might swell and burst. Every nerve ending pulsed wildly until she felt a sudden explosion that seemed to run throughout her body, causing her to quiver and shake beneath him. A loud cry of pleasure escaped her lips as Heath smiled knowingly.
“Heathhhhhh.”
It was all she could manage to say in the moment of passion. She felt like her body had been blown apart and then snapped perfectly back into place. Perspiration dotted her brow as Heath moved across her, pressing his body closer to hers. The sudden pain as he pushed slowly inside of her tight opening was blinding, she cried out again and he hesitated, letting the discomfort pass before pulling back and slowly slipping back in. Each stroke brought a fresh pain, but it was lessening, replaced with a new pleasure.
“You feel so wonderful, Heath. I never knew it could be like this.”
“It will be like this forever. Somehow, someway.”
Alva smiled up at him, a few tears escaping her eyes as her breath slowed, became more labored with his increasing passion. Her hips met his again and again as he took her for his own, making love to her feverishly beneath the open sky above them. His grunts filled the air, mingling with her own as they slammed into one another, unable to get enough of the other.
“God, I’m coming. I’m going to explode.”
“Yes. I want to feel everything you have inside me.”
With one final stroke, Heath pushed deeply inside her, erupting with a thick load of his seed destined for her womb. Alva didn’t care if she became with child though she knew it could well mean a disaster for the both of them. She wanted to experience what it felt like to have his seed flowing through her. The warm rush of his fluids inside her only made her happier.
They lay in the grass, holding one another and kissing until the day began to grow long. It would be getting dark before they arrived back at the stables if they didn’t hurry. Jumping up to get dressed, they mounted their horses and made the ride back before they were missed by too many. Careful to keep their distance from one another around the castle, it felt like torture to be so far apart from him as they went about the business of appearing that nothing was any different than it should be.
“That brother of Lord MacEwan’s is quite the handsome one isn’t he?”
Alva paused, listening as the two giddy servants discussed him. She smiled a little to herself as she stood pretending to admire a nearby trinket with her back turned to them.
“He certainly is. Quite a bit friendlier than the Lord too. I wonder if he is interested in a woman of slightly lesser breeding than himself?”
Alva felt herself stiffen a little at the idea and turned suddenly to face them, angry despite her self-admonishment to mind herself.
“Don’t the two of you have something you should be doing?”
They looked at her and then each other, a stricken look exchanged that she had overheard their discussion of both her husband and his brother.
“I’m sorry, Lady MacEwan. We were just going out ot mind the linens.”
The pair scurried off hurriedly. Alva could still overhear them as one of them whispered a bit too loudly to the other.
“She’s probably just upset because she has already figured out that her husband prefers his own kind over what’s beneath the skirt of hers.”
Alva was stunned. Was it true? It made perfect sense with what he had said to her, the lack of a marriage consummation and some of Heath’s comments. Instead of being distraught, she found that she was absolutely giddy about it. If he didn’t enjoy the pleasures of women, then she certainly wouldn’t have to worry about him touching her. It meant she would have no issues of maintaining her complete faithfulness to Heath instead.
Smiling, she went upstairs and prepared for dinner. She sat at a far end of the table from Heath, trying her best to avoid eye contact, not because she wanted to but because she was afraid everyone would be able to see what she had done with him just from the look on her face. Of course, Heath, infinitely playful was having none of it.
“Lady MacEwan, did you have a good ride this afternoon?”
“I did. It was most splendid.”
“I’m not sure that you should be going out alone on the horse without a proper escort.”
“Why is that?”
“This land is not always a fit place for a lady of your stature to be out alone. There are thieves and kidnappers that would love to find you separated from any assistance.”
“Perhaps I will ask one of the guards to accompany next time.”
“You could do that, but I would be more than happy to go with you tomorrow. I’m an excellent swordsman. I can protect you from any harm.”
“I will take it under advisement. Thank you kindly for the offer.”
Alva smiled a little to herself as she took a bite of her food. He was toying with her, but he was also setting up a very public excuse to ride with her again tomorrow. She was glad to know that he wasn’t just some sort of cad that had taken her maidenhead for sport. Everything had felt so real today and she didn’t want to lose that feeling ever. In fact, she already found herself looking forward to their next rendezvous.
The days that followed were absolutely blissful. Each day, she and Heath went riding together. They used swordplay as if it were foreplay, sparring with one another until neither could bear not touching one another any longer. They ended each day making love in the moors as if it were the first time, every time. Their passion for one another only increased until it was hard ot leave one another alone even when back in the castle.
“Kiss me.”
“Heath, no. Stop. Someone will see.”
Alva was pushed up against the stone wall that led to the lower level of the castle where valuables were stored behind locked doors.
“I don’t care. I can’t stand being so close to you and not being able to touch you. It’s maddening.”
“It is for me too, but if we get caught, I don’t know what he will do.”
“I’m not scared of him.”
“I know you aren’t, but I have my family to consider, as well.”
“We have to get you out of here, Alva. You don’t belong here with him. You belong anywhere else with me.”
“We can’t, Heath. We have to stop this. It has gotten out of hand. He will be back any day now. It’s dangerous.”
“You can’t leave me, Alva. I need you. You are my heart. I love you.”
“I love you too, Heath. I do, but I am married to your brother and we have to let it go.”
“I won’t let it go. I will never let you go.”
Heath kissed her, despite her earlier protest. His fingers tangled in her hair as his mouth searched hers greedily, hungrily. Their bodies pressed together closely until he finally yanked himself away, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her toward the dark cellar just beyond the hallway. Clearing off the top of a barrel in one quiet corner, he pushed up her skirt and hoisted her panty looms down, fumbling with the fasteners on his pants.