Second Chance with the Shifter

by Leela Ash

  “Our Clans have crossed paths before… many, many years ago… and it has been written in the stars ever since that you and I should come together to start a new blood line… a new clan… one so powerful it shall rule the whole of Scotland.”

  Muriel looked up at her husband. She didn’t know much, but she did know that she trusted him entirely. There was a sincerity in his words, and in his actions. She had felt something between them the second she had laid eyes on him. The complete opposite of what had happened when she had first seen Lord Rose. He had made her skin crawl and she had known there was something disloyal and evil lurking beneath his surface. Now John had come and saved her and her family from making a terrible mistake.

  “My parents…” she began, “Do they know?”

  John shook his head.

  “No,” he said, “The Rose’s have been deceiving people for generations. But, Clan Campbell is very different to any other clan you will have ever come across before,” he smiled.

  “In what way?” Muriel whispered.

  “Here,” he reached out and took her hand, “Let me show you.”

  8.

  The night had fallen swiftly and the ground crunched underfoot as they walked together underneath a sky that glistened with the light of millions of bright stars. Muriel looked up and couldn’t believe how beautifully perfect it was, it was as if the heavens had opened up just for them to celebrate their union.

  “Your parents will return safely,” he reassured her as they walked hand in hand, “News will reach them soon enough that their castle is intact and their family waits for them.”

  “But then what?” Muriel asked. “We all just live here together?”

  The thought was so ridiculous she almost couldn’t keep a straight face.

  “Well that all depends on you,” John smiled.

  Muriel wanted to ask him what he meant but she was distracted by a shooting star overhead and she stopped to look up into the sky.

  “This is so incredible,” she gasped.

  “It’s because it’s meant to be,” John pulled her closer to him and she felt his warmth.

  They continued on past the loch and towards the forest. The moonlight glinted down on the water and lit the path ahead. It was the first time that Muriel had noticed it was a full moon and as they continued she felt a change in John’s demeanor, as if he was trying to restrain himself from saying something and holding back with each step they took.

  He finally stopped on the edge of the loch and sat down on a rock. He motioned for Muriel to follow him and she sat down at his side as they looked up at the beautiful night’s sky and all of the splendor that was being opened up to them.

  “Clan Campbell are very different indeed,” he continued their conversation from back in her bed chamber, “We have many secrets. Some of which have become legend and some that are just wild whispers around the highlands.”

  “What sort of legends?” she asked, although she had the feeling that she already knew what he was going to answer.

  “Wolves,” John said sternly, “Clan Campbell are half men… and half beast.”

  Muriel felt a twinge of excitement. Even though she was confused, she had known the instant they had burst into the Great Hall that there was something distinctly different about them. The men and wolves were far too big to be anything short of supernatural.

  “I’m not sure I know what you mean,” she stammered.

  John reached up and took hold of her face before he kissed her passionately and deeply on the lips. She allowed her body to submit to him and for him to take her roughly in his arms as he lay her back against the rock. She was as timid as a virgin should be, and although she had never felt or known passion like it, her wedding night nerves still thumped through her and held her back from truly letting go.

  “John,” she panted as she broke his kiss and looked deep into his eyes.

  He was the most amazing man she had ever met… and yet there was something so otherworldly about him… and it frightened her. As his passion grew and stirred deep within him, she saw the beast rising to the surface.

  His eyes turned icy blue and his whole frame seemed to vibrate with power and lust, as the intense heat raged within him.

  “My Lady,” he panted before he looked up at the moon. His face cracked into something primal and wild, and Muriel finally let herself go. She rode along with him, spurred on by his intensity and the power raging within him.

  As he shifted from human into wolf form, he took her breath away. The power that radiated from him was so incredible and frightening she was sure he was about to rip her limb from limb. The wolf growled and ran a hot, wet tongue up the side of her neck and cheek. His claws pawed at her and ripped at the wedding dress and he looked up and howled at the moon.

  Muriel was so turned on, she couldn’t believe what was happening to her. Her body was a mess of want and need and as John shifted back into his human form, the clothes torn from his body and revealing his nakedness, he pressed down hard on her and spread her legs with his thighs.

  As he slid the tip of his manhood into her dripping wet sex and claimed her properly, Muriel squealed with delight and pleasure that reverberated throughout the highlands.

  As John powered himself into her, he got harder with each stroke and built up to his powerful release.

  Muriel had waited for this moment her entire life and it couldn’t have been more perfect. Her husband was like nothing she had ever known or could even have dreamed of, and as he thrust into her one last time and spilled his red hot seed, she unraveled around him. As she experienced her first orgasm, it was so intense she thought that it may tear her in half.

  Afterwards she lay in his arms, nuzzled into his burning hot chest and traced lines with her fingertips up his naked torso.

  “You are amazing John Campbell,” she whispered. “You have no idea what you’ve just done to me…” she giggled.

  “Oh I do,” he kissed her on the forehead as he pulled her closer. “I’ve deflowered you… and hopefully impregnated you with a cub.”

  Muriel felt a twinge in her belly.

  A cub…

  A baby for them both…?

  “This is the beginning,” he whispered, “This is the start of the rest of the world. Together we are going to change Scotland forever…”

  Muriel looked deep into his eyes and smiled. She knew he was right and hoped that she did have a baby growing inside of her.

  “The stars,” she whispered as she looked up again, “Do you really believe this was written there?”

  “Most certainly,” John smiled.

  The ground began to freeze around them, but Muriel barely noticed. The heat coming from her wolf husband was keeping her warm and she could still feel it pulsing throughout her.

  Less than forty-eight hours earlier she had just been a normal highland lassie waiting for her life to begin… and out of nowhere she had been thrown into an almost unbearable situation with the evil Lord Rose… rescued by the handsome John Campbell and married with the possibility of a baby on the way. It had certainly been an unbelievable day, but one she wouldn’t change for a moment. She had found something with John… even if it was just the beginning, she knew it was a journey she wanted to be on.

  She looked over at Cawdor Castle and smiled. She had never wanted to leave before John had burst into the Great Hall, but now she had a husband of her own, one that she wanted to be with, she knew what Elizabeth and her mother had meant. Her destiny was being fulfilled… she had been chosen by a shifter clan and together they were going to begin something legendary. John said that it would depend on her… and she wanted to go. Together they could find their own home and start their own clan… The Campbell-Calder’s would be the most powerful family in the whole of the highlands.

  She nuzzled into John’s shoulder and looked up at the stars. Above them trails of silver shot across the sky and Muriel took it as a sign from the Gods that she was on the right path. She was wh
ere she was meant to be and destiny had finally found her.

  “I love you John Campbell,” she whispered as she locked her fingers with his, “And I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  John turned to her and kissed her deeply for one last time before they feel asleep together under the stars as wild wolves howled beneath the moon.

  THE END

  Victorian Mystery

  A Twist of Secrets

  A Victorian Mystery Romance

  Jessica Savage

  Copyright ©2016 by Jessica Savage. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic of mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Chapter One

  The grey clouds gathered over Highgate cemetery. Even the white stone angels looked forlorn against the thundery skies. It was a day of endings and beginnings. Lady Christabel Montgomery paused for a moment to look at her reflection in the dressing table mirror. A young, white face stared back at her - wide eyed and innocent. The black looked well against her pale skin; a widow’s weeds suited her. Only for a moment did she feel guilty.

  A widow after only two months of marriage - they had been scarcely out of their honeymoon period before the unexpected death of her husband, the late Lord Charles Montgomery. He had been involved in an accident whilst traveling away on business and by the time she had been notified, it was too late even to say goodbye.

  She could not say that her marriage had been built on love; maybe that would have happened eventually. It had, after all, only been early days and she was young. It had been a marriage of convenience and unexpected lust. Christabel had been a naive virgin on her wedding night but had learned quickly. Charles had been a skilled and energetic lover and she had been eager to please her generous benefactor. She had been an orphan with neither prospects nor money of her own; her natural beauty being her only saving grace. The middle aged Charles had been more than happy to take the lovely young woman under his wing and had ached to feel her firm young flesh beneath him. Even without love, they had made the ideal couple. And so, after their first introductions, the unlikely couple were married within two months of meeting, much to the alarm of the rest of the Montgomery family.

  Christabel moved to the window and looked down from the window and onto the small park below. A few black-clothed nannies had ventured forth with their charges, wrapped snugly inside their iron wheeled perambulators; blissfully unaware of the weather outside or of life's constant cares. Black. The color of mourning, the color of nannies, the color of crows and the color of the chimney sweeps she occasionally saw rushing through the smoggy London air.

  Several smart carriages waited outside the house, including the elaborately adorned funeral hearse. Four large black plumed horses wearing full funeral regalia snorted their steamy breath into the bitter morning air. They were all waiting downstairs for her – Charles’ family; impatient for the dreariness to be over so they could get on with their own lives once again.

  She hardly knew them; they were strangers to her. Most of them had been against the marriage in the first place. Lord Charles Montgomery was a wealthy man, everyone knew that, and his family had presumed that they would eventually inherit all of the lands and fine houses he owned with no heir to speak of. Why he had suddenly decided to marry a young woman just old enough to be his daughter they could only guess, but many of the family members felt bitter towards the young interloper. At least now he was dead they could all breathe a sigh of relief – at least there would be no son and heir!

  There was a firm knock and the door opened gently. It was Hannah, her maid. Hannah had been in Christabel’s family since she was just a baby and had looked after her for most of her young life. Christabel noticed that the hair around her old companion’s temple was now greying, but the eyes were still youthful and the face still attractive. She often wondered why the woman had never married.

  She had asked her once, one evening just before she was due to be married to Charles. Returning from a local ball, Hannah had stood behind her, brushing the long black hair that fell luxuriously down to her waist. Hannah had laughed and said that she could never leave Christabel, and if she did who would brush the young girl’s hair each evening? Yet Christabel had noticed a sorrow in the woman’s eyes as she spoke and had never mentioned the subject again.

  “They’re waiting downstairs for you Chrissy.”

  The older woman walked up to Christabel and placed her arms around her young charge for comfort. Her dear mother had died when she was five years old, and ever since then Hannah had acted more as a surrogate mother than a maid, and the two women were close.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I will be alright Hannah, but I will be glad when this day is over.”

  “You better go down; I will be following on with the rest of the household to the church.”

  Reaching for the hat that sat idly upon the bed, Hannah placed it on top of her mistress’s hair, pinning it in place with a jet encrusted pin, before pulling down the dark veil to hide the pretty features beneath. Two years of wearing black; it seemed a pity for one so young, but that was the requirements for a woman in her position according to Cassel’s manual, the last word on funeral and mourning etiquette.

  Opening the door, Christabel inhaled deeply before walking across the landing and down the grand staircase to the awaiting group in the library. Glad for the veil to hide her emotions, or perhaps more importantly lack of them, she stepped slowly down towards the hall. Stephens, the butler was posted on duty, standing like a sentry against the front door, and as she approached he nodded his head gravely. He wore a black armband as a sign of respect. He had been with Charles for at least forty years and had been extremely loyal.

  Christabel had the feeling he did not approve of her, a young chit of a girl playing at being mistress in the grand house, but if he had felt it, he had not shown it outwardly in any of his actions or words. Occasionally, she had caught him staring at her during dinner and the look had disturbed her, leaving her cold.

  Opening the door to the library, Stephens led her into the room, the babble of voices almost ceasing as the group within stopped their conversations and turned to look at the young widow. Although it was only ten in the morning, the lamps in the room had been lit and the curtains closed, as was the custom. The dim light seemed appropriate. The silence seemed absolute, even the ticking clock had been stopped as a mark of respect for the late master of the house.

  The casket containing his body was now closed and nailed down and lay on a table in the center of the room. She had been expecting to sit with the body, watching over him day and night until the burial, but it hadn’t seemed a fitting duty for such a young widow. The wake had been carried out by members of the household staff, all of whom had reveled in its morbid curiosity.

  At first Christabel didn’t recognize anyone in the room and felt almost a stranger in her own home. The men in their mourning coats and hats, the woman in their crepe and silk, all stood like crows with their beady eyes shining; ready to devour the poor creature.

  “My dear.”

  A tall figure with a long, bushy beard stepped forward to take her hand. It was Edward Montgomery, Charles’ twin and younger brother by a matter of minutes. It was as if those few minutes had always come between them and caused a rift between the two siblings; vital minutes that had left Charles to inherit his father’s estate and leaving Edward with very little. Although identical in looks, Hannah could always tell the two men apart. She couldn't put her finger on it, but it was something in the eyes; a certain coldness in Edward that offset his brother’s warmth and generosity.

  He and his wife Anne were the first to greet her. Like Stephens, they had never approved of her and she had only met them once, briefly at her wedding. Edward was a cold fish with beady, mud-colored eye
s that reminded her of the sea at Brighton where she used to holiday with her father. The thought of her dear departed Papa brought a sudden tear to her eye. He had been dead for almost four years, but suddenly her grief seemed raw and recent. Perhaps the sight of the men and women in black had brought back the memory of her father’s funeral? She had been only fourteen-years-old at the time and had worn a plain white dress; a strange contrast to the blackened figures around her. At the funeral tea, served in his large study after the burial, she had felt like a spectra.

  His palm was clammy as he held her black-gloved hand, the stickiness perceptible through the lace. Charles could be stern on occasion, but his eyes were warm, reflecting his generous spirit; nothing like his cold brother. Anne, in turn, grasped Christabel sharply by the arms in the pretence of a warm embrace, the effect convincing to no one. Christabel had the feeling that she had been the subject of the conversation before entering the room and a conversation that had not been very complimentary. The woman smiled with her mouth, yet her eyes, like her husband’s, remained cold.

  She couldn’t blame them too much. They would have inherited everything if it had not been for her. The will was due to be read the following day and was the main topic of debate amongst the family. Not that she expected much; the lands and the country estate would fall to Edward, but the couple were avaricious and wanted it all

  Arthur Chadwick was the next in line; a cousin of Charles and now serving in the army. He had seemed the most welcoming of the family at first, but had also been the most lascivious. On both of the occasions they had met, he had been drunk and suggestive; even on her wedding day. With his dark eyes and ruffled dark hair he was handsome enough, but too much of a rake; the wild card of the pack. He probably had a wife in every county. His breath was hot on the back of her hand as he pressed it to his lips and kissed it greedily. Hardly the etiquette for a funeral, but no one else seemed to notice or care.