Scent of Scotland

by Mac Flynn

  Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Other Books

  Scent of Scotland: Lord of Moray Box Set (BBW Scottish Werewolf / Shifter Romance)

  MAC FLYNN

  Text copyright 2016 by Mac Flynn

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission in writing from the author.

  Want to get an email when my next book is released? Join the Wolf Den and receive an email whenever a new book comes out!

  Sign up here for my newsletter

  CHAPTER 1

  I was but eighteen winters when I was stolen from my life and taken to that far-off Scottish highland. It was there I met my lord, love, and mate.

  But I am ahead of my story. My first seventeen winters were as harsh as any in those days. I was born and grew up in the lower streets of London where the cobblestones were nearly as ancient as Rome and the houses slightly less so. My parents both died of the plague when I was young, and I was left alone in the world to fend for myself. The Black Death left a great hole to fill in some quarters so I was apprenticed early to a seamstress. She taught me some very valuable lessons, not least of which that cruelty can come at the hands of woman and man alike.

  By my fifteenth year I had abandoned her strong, uncaring hand and found myself in the employ of a tailor who was less cruel and who paid me for my services better than she. My salary covered my expenses in one of the most squalid houses in all of London. I shared the single room with two other young women who also worked in shops. Our alliance was only through necessity, and each of us lived our own lives separate from one another but for that single drab room.

  I was still employed in the tailor shop when my eighteenth birthday came and passed. The occasion was marked by none except myself, but that was my life. My only regret was that I had not yet found a companion, a husband, who might take me from my drudgery and give me a better life.

  Little did I realize how abruptly my wish would come true.

  The evening of my wish was like any other. The last of the grimy sun faded an hour thence and the street lamps outside were lit by the spry lamp lighters with their long sticks. The tailor shop was small, but two rooms downstairs, and the upper floor occupied by the tailor and his family.

  "There you are, Mrs. Moore," Mr. Maher, the tailor, spoke up as he handed over a boxed package to the large, middle-aged woman. "I am sure you will be the bell of the New Year's Ball."

  Mrs. Moore looked down her long, peaked nose at the box in her hands. "We shall see. The last dress you made for me had a stitch off in the shoulder."

  Her eyes flickered to me as I sat in my corner in the back room toiling away at a shirt for a gentleman. I am sure she blamed me for the mistake, but little did she know the tailor himself had personally sewed her last dress. It was I who had sewed the one now in her hands.

  "And I assure you that mistake will never happen again," he promised.

  "Indeed, or I shall expect my money returned," she huffed.

  Mr. Maher smiled and skirted around the counter in front of the back room entrance. "Of course, Mrs. Moore, of course," he replied as he led Mrs. Moore to the door and opened it for her. "Come again any time for a repair and we will welcome you with open arms."

  A cool wintry wind swept into the shop. Mrs. Moore shivered and wrapped her fine cool coat closer to herself. "I will expect it," she snapped as she stepped outside.

  "And a merry Christmas and happy New Year to you!" Mr. Maher called after her.

  Mrs. Moore didn't reply, but neither did he give her much chance. He shut the door and turned to me with a scowl etched onto his lips. Mr. Maher marched up to the desk and slammed his receipt book closed.

  "A fine woman that is," he spat.

  Here was the true Maher, a man little in love with his choice of occupation but with no way to escape his fate. He shoved the receipt book beneath the counter and pocketed the money from the till.

  "That is work enough, Abigail," he called to me. "You had best be off to home."

  "Yes, sir," I answered as I set down my needle and the shirt. The work was half finished. In another few days it would be a fine silk shirt.

  Mr. Maher eyed me in a strange fashion as I wrapped my robust figure in my slim cloak. I was not slim by any means, but my limited means meant I was not fat. I could only say I was large-boned and not particularly ugly, but nor was I handsome.

  Mr. Maher cleared his throat. "Business will be slow for a few days until after New Years," he warned me. That day was a fortnight into December. "I think I shan't need you for three weeks hence."

  My eyes widened. "For so long?" I gasped.

  He sighed and shook his head. "It can't be helped. Some are behind on their payments, and others have put off their orders until the new year. All that is left to do is the shirt, and I can finish that myself."

  This was very dire news for me. My weekly salary barely covered my expenses, and now I would be three weeks without even that meager sum. Still, there was no use arguing the point. I would have to make do some way.

  I pursed my lips. "I see. . ." I murmured.

  "It is only three weeks," he reminded me. Mr. Maher dug into his pocket and removed a few coins. He pressed them into my hand as he led me o the doorway. "Here is a little to help you. It isn't much, but-"

  I pushed the money against his chest. "You needn't give me any money, Mr. Maher. I'll get by," I insisted.

  He smiled and shook his head. "It isn't given, but earned. You have finished enough of the shirt that I feel you have done all the work, and for that I will pay you. Please take it."

  I returned his smile and grasped the money against my chest as I stepped backwards into the cool, dark street. "Thank you, and God bless."

  Mr. Maher bowed his head. "God bless, and have a merry holidays."

  I turned away from the tiny shop and Mr. Maher shut the door behind me. I looked down at the few coins in my hand and sighed. They would not cover my rent, but they would help alleviate my suffering with a bit of food.

  I pocketed the coins and moved down the street. The small tailor shop was set on a narrow side street that curved in both directions. I directed my steps to the right and hurried down the dark, lonely street. A soft snow fell from the gra
y sky and blanketed the world in a clean cloth. My footprints behind me were all that marred the white beauty. I shivered and wrapped my thin cloak closer to my body. Though I worked for a tailor I wore a thin, ragged old dress that was hardly fit for church.

  I stepped onto a busier street where throngs of people walked to and fro on their way home for supper. Many ignored me as I paused beside a lamp post. A few handsomes whisked by filled with well-to-do businessmen in their white wigs and silk breeches. I heard their laughter as the wheels of their fast handsomes kicked up mud. A wheel flew past close beside where I stood, and a thin wave of dirty water splashed onto my cloak. I looked down at the muddy damage and whipped my head up to scowl at the careless driver.

  That was when I noticed a strange carriage. The body of the vehicle was normal enough with a door on either side and a box on the front. A single black horse pulled the carriage, and a driver cloaked completely in black sat atop the box. I could not see his face for his head was well wrapped in a scarf.

  The strange part about the carriage was the four lamps that hung on the four corners of the body. They were shaped like table lamps with the bottom and top as rounded chambers, and they gave out paltry light. The bottom chamber held the candle, and the top held a glass orb from which a perfume of sorts poured out the narrow top. The horse sauntered down the street and allowed the perfume to waft over both sides of the road.

  I caught a whiff of the scent and found it pleasing. It was the scent of a cedar forest on a hot summer day when one was grateful for a soft breeze. Such an image was most peculiar for me for I had hardly any idea of the smell of a cedar tree, nor had I ever set foot in a forest except the one of stone and man that surrounded me even then. The carriage rolled down the street and I took in another whiff of the heavenly scent.

  It was then that a maddening thought entered my mind. I had to follow the carriage. I could not lose sight nor scent of the vehicle. The carriage rounded a corner at the far end of the street. Heedless of my actions, I followed its trail onward to my fate.

  CHAPTER 2

  I rushed down the street and turned the corner in time to see the carriage turn down one of the myriad of small streets like that occupied by the tailor shop. The maddening scent led me to the head of the street where I paused. The carriage rolled down a shadowed, meandering road of dark shops and few street lamps.

  My concern for my safety should have been my first priority, but the scent demanded I follow. There could be no denying the smell, and I plunged headlong into the shadowed street. My feet echoed the clack of the horse's hooves as the animal quickened its speed. The carriage reached the end of the road and turned to the left. I rushed to the corner and paused beside the building to catch my breath and a whiff of the scent. The new, wider street was filled with stables and liveries that occupied both sides of the street. Their doors were shut, but I caught a whiff of their animal stench.

  The carriage I sought turned into an open stable and the doors were shut behind it. I cried out and rushed forward. The scent could not be lost. A smaller servant's door was set into one of the larger stable doors, and I banged on that.

  "Sir! Sir!" I yelled. I was not oblivious to my strange behavior, but I could not control the desperation I felt to smell that glorious scent. "Please!"

  I heard a latch unlock and I hurriedly stepped back when the door swung open. A severe-looking woman of middle age stood in the doorway. Her hair was pulled back in a severe bun and her lips were pursed tightly together.

  "Yes?" she snapped at me.

  "Please," I gasped. "I saw a carriage drive in here and-" She held up her hand and a smile slipped onto her prim lips.

  "Say no more. Please step inside," she offered.

  The woman stepped aside and allowed me entrance. I slipped inside and found myself in a simple stable. The carriage which I sought stood at the back wall. The horse was unhitched and the driver held its bridle in his hands as he stared at me. His face was uncovered and I found he was a man of the same age as the woman.

  "Is she-?" he asked her.

  The woman set her hand against the small of my back and nodded. "I believe so. Put the horse away and fetch the incense burners from the carriage."

  The strange lamps were incense burners. Their flames were extinguished, but I still smelled a faint whiff of the delicious scent. The woman and I watched the man fetch them from all four sides. In the quiet of the stables with these strangers I realized how awkward my position must have been to them.

  "I feel I must apologize for my madness at the door," I told the woman. "I'm not sure what came over me."

  She shook her head. "Do not fret. It is the same for all of them."

  I furrowed my brow. "'All of them?'" I repeated.

  The man retrieved the last of the four burners and strolled over to us. The woman grabbed the closest in his grasp and held the opening towards me.

  "Is this the scent you desire?" she asked me.

  I blinked at her. "How did you know I followed a scent?"

  Her smile faltered and she shoved the burner closer to me. "Is it?"

  I frowned and pushed away the burner. "No, it is not, but what do you mean by this? How did you know I followed the scent?"

  She traded the burner in her hand for another and held it towards me as she had done with the first. "What of this one?" she questioned me.

  I stepped back away from the pair and shook my head. "I know not why you have brought me here, but I wish to leave."

  The woman pursed her lips and traded another burner. She closed the distance between us and held out the burner to me.

  "What of this one?" she persisted.

  I opened my mouth, but my nose was caught by the familiar scent of cedar forest. My anger ebbed away and my body relaxed. The woman smiled and clutched the top and bottom of the burner in her hands.

  "The laird will be pleased to hear of this," she commented. She glanced over her shoulder at the man and jerked her head towards me. "Set her to sleep and we will contact his man."

  The man nodded and handed the woman the burners. He pulled out a handkerchief from one pocket and stepped towards me. The faint scent of the cedar forest was not powerful enough to overcome the sudden fear that rode swiftly on the wings of self-preservation. My only thought was to flee.

  "Stay back!" I shouted.

  "Now 'old still, miss, and this'll be over in a jiffy," he assured me.

  The man lunged at me, but I evaded his clumsy hands and slipped around him. The woman clutched the burners to her chest and stumbled back. I grasped her shoulders and flung her into the man as he turned to try to capture me. The pair collided into each other in a mess of burners and limbs. Several of the burners crashed to the packed dirt floor and shattered.

  The woman flew onto her knees before the burners and caught up some small, burnt object like a thick strand of string. She whipped her head up to the man who stumbled to his feet.

  "You clumsy idiot! Get her!" she snapped.

  I raced to the door, flung open the entrance, and hurried outside. The snow fell in great clumps of white that stuck to me as I turned my head left and right. There was no one else on the street, but all was not lost. I knew my way through these maze of roads, so I rushed down the road back the way I had come. The man's lumbering footsteps followed mine and the thick, deep snow beneath my feet slowed me down.

  He caught me some dozen yards from the stable. One of his long arms wrapped around my middle and pinned my arms to my sides. The other shoved the cloth into my face. A sharp, detestable smell emanated from the cloth and I thrashed in his grip to escape the scent. He held me tight, though, and in a few moments my head began to spin. The world around me also spun, and I felt myself slip into a deep sleep.

  CHAPTER 3

  I couldn't tell you how long I slept, but when I awoke it was to the jarring movements of a fast carriage. My heavy eyes reluctantly opened and I found myself in an elegant carriage with cushioned, opposing seats. The windows were
covered in thick black drapes so none could see in nor out, and the jarring motion of the carriage spoke of a quick speed.

  I occupied the rear-most seat while a gentleman with a fine cut of clothes sat opposite me. He sported a neatly trimmed beard, clean clothes, and bright eyes that showed no ordinary cunning.

  He bowed his head. "Good evening," he greeted me. I sat up, but the world spun around and I clutched my head. He stretched out his hand to me. "Careful, my lady. The scent still has its hold over your head and will remain for some time," he warned me.

  "Where am I?" I murmured.

  "On the road to Scotland some seventy-five miles north of London," he informed me.

  Such a statement jarred me from my hazy mind. I started and blinked at him.

  "Scotland? Do you jest?" I challenged him.

  He smiled and shook his head. "No, my lady, though I can understand your confusion. You see, Fate has decided another path for you then the one in which you believed you would remain."

  I clutched the strap close at hand as we bumped hurriedly over the uneven dirt roads and scowled at him. "I wish to be returned to London," I demanded.

  He again shook his head. "I cannot oblige your request, my lady. My laird insists on the pleasure of your company."

  "I do not care what your lord insists. You have kidnapped me, and I wish to be returned," I insisted.

  "Perhaps some food will ease your mind," he suggested. "We shall soon be stopped at an inn for the night."

  "Food will not change my mind," I warned him.

  "Then perhaps an explanation over a light meal, and a long night of rest will ease your mind," he returned.

  The carriage slowed and the man rolled up one of the thick drapes. The window revealed a small, dreary village covered in a mix of filthy snow and mud. The houses were little more than huts and they stood crowded together close to the road. The inn was an exception and was built of huge timbers dragged from the forests some ten miles off in the westward distance. There were two floors and many of the windows were lit with welcoming candles. A stable stood off to the left and the doors were open to welcome our carriage and horses.

  The carriage stopped, and a livery servant stepped around from the rear of the carriage and dropped the step. The man alighted first and turned to offer me his hand. I sat perfectly still and continued to glare at him.

  "You may stay in the carriage all night if you wish, but it will be rather cold and the livery servants have been instructed not to let you out of their sight," he informed me.