Tiger Tail: Shifter Romance

by Sky Winters

  She had only met Andrew Stewart the once, when he had visited her family in the summer to make the arrangements for their nuptials. She had felt shy back then, being presented to the worldly wise and older man. He was an enigmatic stranger, the future husband with whom she would share private intimacies. He was very handsome, with jet black hair swept away from his face in a somewhat rather severe manner. His eyes were steely blue and his lips red and thin against the pale skin. He had a reputation for cruelty but he had been kind, bringing her a present of a sparkling blue amethyst necklace, set with diamonds. She remembered how he had fastened it around her throat; his long fingers brushing the nape of her neck, as he bent down to kiss the bare flesh of her shoulders when no one was looking. At the time she had recoiled at his touch, it was the first time a man had been so intimate with her, and the feel of his hot sticky breath against her soft skin had made her flush with embarrassment. If he had noticed, then he had been too much the gentleman to say, but her mother Margaret had seen her daughter’s reaction and had remonstrated with her later. The match was important and Arabella must be brave. Her mother had told her all about the needs and passions of men and it had quite shocked her young mind. At 18 years of age, she had led a very sheltered life. She was amazed that her prim and proper mother had actually committed the acts that she embarrassingly described; she could not imagine her parents clutched together in conjugal bliss, but obviously she was the proof of their past union, and possibly why she was an only child.

  Looking at the image of herself in the long mirror, Arabella smiled approvingly. The new dress fitted well and complimented her long, dark hair that fell around her face in soft ringlets. The wedding would take place in a little over a week and she wondered if she would look so young and innocent after her marriage, after her wedding night?

  The carriage was prepared and she hurried down the stairs to bid goodbye to her parents. Matilda, her maid would be travelling with her on the long journey and continue to be her ladies maid at the castle. The two girls were good friends and it made the prospect of her new life less daunting.

  Her mother and father were waiting in the hall to say goodbye. They were both undemonstrative in their affections, but her father had tears in his eyes as he waved the carriage a fond farewell. Her mother’s last advice had been that she must do everything she could, to please Lord Stewart.

  Anything would be better than her mother’s continual instructions, and now she would be free, Lady of her own castle. Surely the sacrifice would be worth her liberty? Once she had given him children, he would probably leave her alone, her mother had said by way of a comfort.

  The carriage had been made cosy with blankets and cushions to keep them warm and comfortable on the long journey. They had packed a small meal of bread, cheese and preserves, and would stop off at a halfway point for a comfort break and to drink a glass of warming ale. It would be late by the time they reached the castle and would need some sustenance en route.

  As the figures of her parents diminished into the distance, Arabella felt the first stab of fear in her stomach. What if she wasn’t happy, what if she could not please Lord Stewart in the ways her mother had imagined? Margaret had been rather vague about the actual deeds she would be expected to perform, talking in riddles of 'men's ardour' and certain 'urges'. She had also hinted that the first time might be painful, but apart from that she was clueless, and her maid Matilda seemed as naive as she was.

  The young maid was very pale except for two red spots on her cheeks. She hadn't wanted to leave Stirling, she had been with Lord Armstrong for most of her working life and she would miss the old familiar place, her own family. But she could not desert Arabella in her time of need.

  Looking out of the window she blinked rapidly in an attempt not to cry. She would be sad not to see John Wilson again, the young man who had recently joined Lord Armstrong as stable hand. She had become very fond of him.

  "Do ever think that you shall marry Matilda?"

  It was the wrong thing to say at that moment, for the young maid was soon in floods of tears, much to the alarm of her mistress.

  "Why whatever is wrong with you, surely you are not homesick already?"

  Matilda sobbed between words "No Mistress, not really Miss, it is just that..."

  "I hope you're not wailing over that new stableman, John Wilson?" she lightly scolded.

  "He is a charming young man I have heard but not one to be trusted with the ladies. I hear he was walking out with a young woman from the village, but was caught kissing the cooks daughter, Bessie in one of the stables. Broke both girl’s hearts I believe and he has only been here a couple of weeks. You are well away from that young knave Matilda, just think of all the strapping Highlanders you are bound to meet soon".

  The young girl wiped her tears and laughed. Young hearts seldom stay broken for long, and soon the two girls were soon chattering away to each other.

  "So, what do you think it will be like on your wedding night, when you are first alone with your husband, in his bed?"

  Matilda giggled and blushed at the same time. She had seen the pigs and cows on her uncle’s farm, but she did not think it would be the same with people.

  "Imagine seeing a man naked?"

  "And him seeing YOU naked!"

  "I fear I would die with the shock."

  "Or with the pain? I have been told a man’s Roger can be this big, as big as a bulls," and she held up her hands in such an exaggeration that both girls tumbled back into their seats in fits of laughter once again.

  "But what does he do with it?" The young maid had no idea.

  "Why, he sticks it inside you and wiggles it about until he gives you a child."

  The whole thing seemed so preposterous that it wasn't long before the girls were giggling once more.

  "In that case I do not want to be married and will remain an old maid all of my life."

  Matilda stuck out her bottom lip in mock defiance and crossed her arms.

  "Yet I shall be married in a week’s time and I suppose I must endure my husband?"

  "You must, it is his right as your spouse and keeper." The two girls had now ceased their laughter and sat in quiet contemplation.

  "I must confess, I am a little afraid Matilda."

  The girl grabbed hold of her companions hand and their fingers entwined.

  "Do not worry. I don't think it can be that bad. After all, my mother gave birth to 10 children," and that set the two girls off laughing again.

  It didn't seem long before they were stopping at ‘The Moulin Inn’ near Pitlochry, to rest the horses and give the girls a chance to stretch their legs.

  As the coachman helped the two girls down the steps, a group of rough looking characters stopped their drinking and all eyes were on Arabella. She was a fine sight to behold in her new dress, the tiny waist and blossoming bosom, her long flowing black hair catching the wind.

  She was a beauty, there could be no denying and the man smacked their lips as they eyed her slowly from head to toe.

  One man, with broken teeth and an eye patch whispered something to the others and they all broke out in a peal of lusty laughter.

  No doubt it was something coarse about her and Arabella felt her cheeks flush.

  On hearing the noise, the landlady of the Inn, Mrs. MacBrayne rushed out to see what was afoot. She was a cheerful, plump looking woman with a red nose, who would settle for no nonsense in her establishment. On seeing the poor girl’s plight, she quickly ushered the two into a private room at the back of the place, where they could eat their refreshments in peace, away from prying eyes. On bringing two glasses of warming ale to the table, Agnes MacBrayne sat with the girls, intrigued to know their story.

  Arabella soon told her the details of her forthcoming marriage to Lord Stewart and Agnes wrinkled her colourful nose.

  "Lord Stewart. Aye, I have heard folk speak of him. He's a cold fish from what I have heard. But don't ye take any notice of me, my loves. I'm sure he wi
ll make ye a good and proper husband. He's rich enough, that's for sure. Many a man has been changed through marriage."

  She looked sadly across at the young woman.

  "And many a maid too if I'm not mistaken, still I'm surprised you are travelling alone, two unescorted ladies with only a coachman for protection?"

  "Papa said we would be safe. That no one would dare to harm the future bride of Lord Stewart- he is too powerful and rich a man to cross."

  "With wealth and power also comes enemies, and Lord Stewart has many of those. There are men that would like to harm him. He has stolen land that does not belong to him and imprisoned men that have stood against him. It does not tell a pretty story I am afraid, and you must be always on your guard."

  Arabella felt a cold shiver inside. She had not thought how vulnerable she and Matilda were, and her father had never mentioned the troubles. She could not believe that the man she was about to marry could be so wicked. It was probably all lies and gossip anyway.

  Soon it was time to climb back into the carriage. The coachman, Thomas, had been drinking with the men outside, and she wondered what they had been talking about. The less people knew about her journey until they were safe within the castle walls the better, and she urged him to continue their journey as quickly as possible.

  The light was almost fading and there would be many more hours until they reached their destination.

  The landscape had changed from the gentle hills of the Lowlands, and now they were among the barren heather clad moors of the Highlands. Great mountains loomed above them, their white caps just distinguishable in the growing darkness. Mountain streams cascaded down the rocky surfaces, and the smell of pine and wild heather filled the air.

  The two girls had fallen into a silent stupor as they watched the shadowy world pass by the little carriage window. Soon they were both fast asleep.

  A sudden jolt of the carriage woke them simultaneously and Matilda was thrown into the lap of Arabella. The horses had stopped and there was an eerie silence around them. Arabella shouted out to the coachman to see what was happening, but there was no reply. After a short while she opened the window and poked her head out into the night air. The coachman was not at his station and the girl felt the fear rise in the pit of her stomach. Maybe he had to answer a call of nature and had fled to the bushes to relieve himself. That must be the case. She looked back at Matilda, pale and wide eyed in the corner of the carriage.

  "It's alright Matilda, he won't have gone far. Relieving himself of all of that ale he drank at lunchtime no doubt," she tried to laugh but her humour did not lighten the mood, and the young maid grabbed at her Mistresses hand for comfort.

  "Whatever shall we do Miss?" Matilda was almost crying.

  Being the elder of the two, Arabella felt she was the one that had to be brave for both of them. Indeed she was almost a married woman and felt it only right that she should take charge of the situation. Opening the carriage door she placed her foot on the step.

  'Where are you going, don’t leave me," The maid’s voice was small and weak.

  "Don't be silly Matilda. I won't be long. I am going to find out what has happened to Thomas. Stay here or I may lose you."

  Hopping down onto the ground Arabella walked around to the front of the carriage to where the horses stood, nibbling contentedly at the grass. They appeared calm and she was sure everything would be alright.

  The air was chill and her breath made white patterns against the darkening sky. There were thick clumps of forest surrounding the rough road on both sides and the tall shadows of the tree’s rose menacingly all around her.

  An owl hooted in a distant tree, but everything else was still, almost too quiet.

  Stepping towards the undergrowth she could feel the wetness of the grass start to seep into her thin slippers, staining the silk with dark patches. There was a rustle in the bushes to her right and she stood still peering into the gloom, the loss of vision putting her at a disadvantage.

  A hand was around her mouth before she had time to scream, as a strong arm grabbed her roughly around the waist and dragged her under the cover of the trees.

  Her feet hardly touched the ground as she was lifted and pulled to a clearing set some way back from the road where she was roughly dropped to the floor. The sudden drop knocked the wind out of her sails and she caught her knee on a sharp stone, causing her to wince.

  “Careful with the goods,” a gruff voice shouted and the air was filled with the sound of vulgar laughter.

  Picking herself up as daintily as she could under the circumstances, Lady Arabella looked around. They were a motley looking lot of men, dirty mainly, and wearing the traditional tartan of the area or plain breeches and boots. Even the stable lads at home looked better than this rough –hewn lot and she tried to lift up her head and hide the fact that her heart was stammering inside her chest.

  Another of the men let out a low whistle and walked towards her. She thought she recognised him as one of the men from the Inn.

  “Haven’t we a pretty little thing ‘ere then? Lord Stewart may be a bastard but he certainly knows how to choose a bride.”

  Approaching her, the man lifted his hand to her face and attempted to pull a strand of dishevelled hair away from her cheek, to get a better look at the stunning girl. Instinctively Arabella pushed his hand away, she did not want to be prodded and poked by such a person.

  The man’s smiling face quickly turned to anger as he grabbed at her wrist and wrenched her near to him.

  “See my lads, we have a cat here that will scratch and claw if we are not careful. I wonder if Lord Stewart knows what he is letting himself in for. Maybe we ought to teach this kitten to curb her claws, I’m sure the laird would be very grateful for our instruction?”

  Grabbing her other arm he pulled her face closely to his. She almost wretched at the smell of rotting teeth and stale sweat. His mouth was wet and greasy, and tiny flecks of spittle bubbled on his lips with excitement. Soon his fleshy lips were on hers to hoots of encouragement from the other men. Arabella thought she would die there and then and almost fainted with the sensation. The wet and rubbery mouth engulfed her own delicate lips as his thick and slobbering tongue probed into the depths of her mouth. She could hardly breathe and feared she would suffocate, but eventually she was released and pushed back onto the hard ground.

  The pack of men had now gathered all around her, there were about a dozen in number and all were looking at her with greedy and lustful eyes, as if she were some kind of animal. Her bosom was heaving in its tight trappings and she thought her heart would burst.

  At last she found her voice.

  “Don’t you dare touch me? I am betrothed to Lord Stewart and he will see you all hanged if you dare harm even a hair on my head.” Her voice was shaking as she defiantly looked back at the group.

  She thought she had made an impact until the man who had kissed her broke out into a sly grin.

  “We don’t want to hurt her do we boys? We just want to have a little fun.” His eyes were steely and full of desire as he approached her. She started to stand but he grabbed her and held her to the floor. His hand reached up to her breasts and pawed at the soft flesh, licking his lips in anticipation.

  “Come and hold her down boys whilst I teach her a lesson.”

  Two men approached and one took her arms and the other her legs, spreading them slightly apart.

  She felt a hand underneath her woollen dress, the dirty fingernails digging into her skin as they crept further and further up towards her inner thigh and intimate places.

  Arabella wanted to scream for help, but a filthy hand was pressed over her mouth so only a small muffled cry could be heard. It was no use, there was no-one to hear her anyway and it was useless to struggle against the strength of these men.

  The first man had now kneeled down beside her and was pulling at the fastening of his breeches. His fleshy cock fell out of the dark material, a floppy, half solid thing that he gra
sped in his hands and started tugging. The other men shouted in approval and the girl tried to avert her eyes.

  “She’s never such a thing in her life, look how it offends the ladies eyes.”

  “I’m not surprised,” shouted another. Billy’s is a poor specimen, here she needs a real man,” and with that the man from earlier with the eye patch started to loosen his clothing. His cock was thicker and much larger than the others and Arabella’s eyes widened in fear.

  “See, she likes mine much better, see how the thought of it makes her eyes shine.”

  Another round of crude laughter ensued as the man with the hefty manhood stepped near her.

  “Now, let’s get down to business”

  As he knelt beside her and started to lift up her dress, there was a shout from the back.

  “Stop that ye heathens, stop that at once.”

  A man stepped forward into the clearing. He was handsome and not like the rest and although his clothes looked worn and in need of some service, he looked cleaner and more respectable than the others. He had with him an air of authority and the others seemed almost afraid of him.

  “What on earth are you doing? Are ye but animals? Get away from the poor girl now. The instructions were not to harm her. She is to be used as a bargaining tool against Lord Stewart, not as a plaything to amuse you scum.”

  The man with the eye patch rearranged his clothing and stepped forward.

  “We did not mean any harm to the girl. We were just having our wee bit of fun.”

  Before he could finish his sentence he was knocked by a powerful punch to the floor, leaving his nose bloody and broken.

  “Is there anybody else here who was thinking of having their way with this poor lassie?”

  The men shuffled their feet and looked away. Their leader was a strong man and no-one wanted to challenge him.

  Arabella looked up gratefully. The man stood before her was definitely handsome, not in a sharp, cool way like Andrew Stewart, but in a more rugged and manly fashion. His hair was dark with an auburn glint, and fell in waves upon his shoulders. His eyes were a smouldering deep brown and his jaw square, with just the hint of a dimple. In any other mood she would have felt subdued under his quiet gaze, now she was afraid and angry and wanted to be away from here and back on her journey to Inverness.