The two of them had a beautiful baby girl named Anna, and they lived together in a house after the two of them got married. Alex knew that a shotgun wedding wasn’t what she really wanted, but Darren told her that he wanted to marry her right away. He told her that she was worth it, and that she was the princess that he had been looking for.
He continued to associate with his wolf brothers, protecting the town from any creatures that were out there. Alex learned that Anna was a shifter as well, and she welcomed it with open arms. Alex was shocked when she saw her daughter change, but at the end of the day, Darren helped her, and soon the two of them started to learn more about one another. Alex learned a lot about Darren through her daughter, and when Alex looked back, she didn’t regret anything whatsoever. She fell for the wolf shifter, the man who came in on a fluke that one day at the store, and hasn’t looked back since.
*** THE END ***
The Highlander’s English Princess
By: Stephanie Hunt
It was a gloomy fall afternoon. It was remarkable that there was nothing positive about this afternoon, save for the person that she was about to meet. The woman in question, was Elizabeth Brown, a beautiful young girl of the age of twenty-three. There were many things going through her mind as she strolled along by herself. She noticed that the weather was pretty bleak, but she liked it that way. Ever since she was a young girl she enjoyed going for a stroll in inclement weather. This afternoon, she was by herself looking at the lovely trees which seemed to be part of an orchard. Succulent red apples were dangling from many of the tree branches. She went up to a low-hanging branch and picked one of the apples. She took a few bites and was transported back to her childhood when she and her mother went apple-picking together. Then, out of nowhere, there was a man’s voice behind her.
“Need a hand, lass?” said the man’s voice, in a Scottish accent. She forgot that she had strolled close to the Scottish border and really should not have been surprised at all at the presence of a Scot.
“No, uh, that’s okay. I am fine. I was just tempted by this delicious-looking fruit.”
“I have never seen you about these parts. Do you live nearby?”
“I live in the big house up the hill, about three or four miles from here.”
“And you have yet to answer my question about your name. You do have one, don’t you?”
“Forgive me, I am just not used to making acquaintance with strange men. I am Elizabeth.”
“Charmed,” said the Scot, holding out his hand. “I am Hamish McAndrews.”
Elizabeth took a moment to size up Hamish. He was tall, attractive, dark hair, and well-built. It looked as though he spent time exercising or lived off the lands. But his attire gave the impression that he was from a well-to-do family. Perhaps even nobility.
“May I walk you back to your house?” asked Hamish politely.
“Well, I do have to be back within an hour or so. My mother is expecting me for dinner.”
“Perfect! It will give us the chance to get to know each other better,” said Hamish happily.
The two of them walked for about an hour up the hill until they were within sight of Elizabeth’s home. They talked about everything from local politics, to the military conflict between Scotland and England, to what they each did for a living. They also discussed friendships and family. It turned out that Hamish had lost his family at a very young age but decided to join the military. He was now a high-ranking non-commissioned officer and was in charge of an entire platoon. The military and political climate in recent years have been escalating. It was expected that the Scottish army would see battle in the very near future.
“Well, I am sorry to leave you,” said Elizabeth. “But this is where I live. As I said, I am expected for dinner. But it was nice chatting with you, Hamish!”
Hamish did not want to leave Elizabeth without arranging another meeting. He was quite stricken with her. “Can I come by tomorrow night for another walk?”
“I don’t think that’s best. If my father knew that I was consorting with a Scottish infantryman I’d get into a world of trouble. Sorry.”
Hamish had no choice but to accept the fact that another meeting could not be arranged with Elizabeth. So he dejectedly left her at her door and set about the long walk back to base camp.
When he arrived at his camp he entered his tent and walked over to his cot amongst the other senior non-commissioned officers. He lay down and tried to get some rest. But nothing could shake the pleasant memory of his encounter with Elizabeth. Everything about her resonated with him. She had the most beautiful, supple white skin. Her body was beautifully curvaceous but not at all self-indulgent. And she dressed as befit an English lady. He realized at this point that he forgot to ask her for her age. But he guessed that she was in her early twenties. Perhaps twenty-three or twenty-four. It made no matter. As a soldier who had not yet reached mid-life he would not be considered to be too old for her.
Back at Elizabeth’s estate, she too could not shake the memory of their enc0unter from her mind. Over dinner with her parents she was noticeably distracted. Her appetite was also not what it usually was. She ate very little, and talked even less. She wondered if she would ever see Hamish again, but recognized also that it was sort of a pipe dream. She was English, and he was Scottish. And their two countries were pretty much at war with one another.
There was another reason why she knew that a relationship with Hamish would never work out. Her father had promised her to an English prince and she was expected to marry him. Their family was very well regarded and so marrying royalty would be – as her father put it – the perfect step in their family’s destiny. She had met the prince a few times. He was about twenty-five, so two years older than her, and quite bratty. He expected everyone to do exactly as he said and if anyone disobeyed, he would either ex-communicate them or send them to be hanged. He had no appreciation for the tenderness of human compassion and that very much scared Elizabeth. Sometimes she wondered how her father could be so cruel as to force her into the marriage.
As Elizabeth ate her soup, her father, Edward, wondered why she seemed so glum. “What is wrong, honey?” he asked her from across the dinner table.
“Dad, I was thinking. Maybe I shouldn’t marry the prince. Maybe I could find someone on my own to marry. You know, someone that I loved.”
“Honey, we’ve been over this so many times. You need to marry someone that befits your station. And Prince Albert is a great match for you. He would ensure our family’s place in British royalty for generations. We are very lucky that he is interested in you.”
“Easy for you to say, Dad. You are not the one that has to marry the brat.”
“Honey, don’t call him that. We will be going to the castle tomorrow evening in a carriage for you to have your second meeting with him. If you are rude, or disrespectful, he is apt to cancel the whole marriage plan. And that would leave us in quite a dilemma.”
Elizabeth couldn’t take it anymore. It was just so unfair. She stood up at the table and ran up the stairs to her room, slamming the door behind her. She lay face down on her bed and screamed into her pillow. “I am only trying to help you, honey!” her father called from downstairs.
Elizabeth spent the night crying to herself. She did not want to marry Prince Albert. She didn’t care how rich or how powerful he was. She did not give a wit if it made her family look good to other aristocrats. As she slept, she dreamt of Hamish. In her dream, Hamish walked up the castle steps to where Prince Albert sat on his throne and murdered him. Then he kissed her and swept her away into a new life somewhere far, far away. When she woke up in the morning she was disappointed that it was just a dream and not a reality.
Meanwhile, in Scotland, Hamish was gearing up for an assault on an English outpost near the border. He was getting his men together for a full-on attack, and was currently making sure that all the provisions were in order and that the platoon’s men were ready for a possible battle. He
inspected the edge on one of his soldier’s swords, and found it lacking.
“Sharpen this edge, you nitwit!” he commanded, and the poor soldier hastily took out a whetstone and worked it down the blade making the edge ever sharper.
Hamish walked up and down the lines of his platoon, adjusting straps here, repositioning helmets there, fixing the armour on one or two soldiers. Overall, he was pleased with the state of his platoon. They seemed ready for battle. He had been training them for months. After they all lined up and passed inspection, Hamish called out to them, boosting their morale: “Troops! Today will be the first time that some of you will have seen real combat. For others, this will be a routine repeat of other engagements you have made. But I don’t want any of you getting cocky. The enemy can sense weakness, and if you hesitate at the wrong moment you are dead! And if you are dead, you are no use to me or anyone. So I do not give you permission to fall in battle. Is that clear?”
“AYE!” cried the entire group of soldiers.
“Good!” Hamish responded. “Because I want you all to come back in one piece. The details of our mission are as follows. There has been an English insurgence about thirty miles from our basecamp. Our reconnaissance has informed us that they are planning an attack by daybreak. We are going to pre-emptively move on them and take out their entire force. We will be outnumbered, but the odds won’t be that bad and we will have the element of surprise. Hopefully we can catch these maggots with their pants down. Who’s with me?”
Again, another cheer resounded throughout the platoon.
“Good!” cried Hamish. “Now let’s move out. Follow me!”
The platoon set out on foot with Hamish and a few other non-commissioned officers leading the way. The platoon was well armed, with broadswords and shields and spears. They did not have archers, for that was typically reserved for a larger battle. This was just a skirmish. After half a day’s march they closed in on the spot where the insurgence was supposed to be located. In place of an English squadron they found a carriage that was broken down. There seemed to be a heated argument between a young lady and an older man about what they were going to do. It appeared as though they were on their way to meet Prince Albert. Before long, Hamish recognized the young woman as Elizabeth from the night before. What happened next seemed to occur in slow-motion to Hamish. The man who she was arguing with brought his hand up and slapped her across the cheek. Elizabeth buckled. Hamish ran up and shoved the man who had struck her and then drew his sword. “What is the meaning of this?” said the man.
“Don’t you dare lay another finger on her,” said Hamish. Then, turning to Elizabeth, “Are you hurt?”
“No. Not badly. Just a little shaken up,” said Elizabeth.
“This lady has been ordered by his Royal Highness, Prince Albert, to attend a banquet at his castle this afternoon,” said the man who had just struck Elizabeth. “She will be coming with me now as soon as we fix whatever’s wrong with the carriage.”
Hamish looked at Elizabeth, then looked at the man. He could see fear in Elizabeth’s eyes and knew at once that she did not want to go to the castle. So Hamish decided to step in and make sure she didn’t have to.
“I will be taking Elizabeth with me,” he said.
Elizabeth smiled broadly, her rosy cheeks making her expression come alive. “Oh Hamish! That would be wonderful!”
“Like bloody hell you will!” barked the man. “You will hand her over at once.”
“Are you prepared to take us all on?” asked Hamish, gesturing to his platoon that was standing by watching the ordeal. There were only a few people scattered around the broken carriage and they were obviously in no shape to enter a battle.
“This is an outrage!” proclaimed the man. “The Prince will be hearing about this. And you will all have to pay. Every last one of you!”
At that the man and his henchmen left the carriage where it was and stormed away on foot in the direction of the castle. Elizabeth threw her arms around Hamish and began sobbing. “Thank you! Thank you!” she repeated, crying tears of joy.
“Come with us, Elizabeth. We have to patrol the area for a few hours to make sure there is no English uprising close by. But once we have done that, you can come back to camp with us and you will be treated very well.
The platoon performed a large sweep of the area, patrolling around to see if there were any signs of English soldiers. After about an hour or two of scanning, they could not find any evidence that English soldiers had been there. Hamish led the platoon back across the fields and to base camp. It was late evening by then, so he gave the soldiers the rest of the evening off to do as they pleased. Many of them retreated into their tents and played cards, or sat around a fire sharing some whisky. Many of them also made sure the edge on their blades was soft and their armour well-polished.
Hamish led Elizabeth to one of the camp fires and had her take a seat. He introduced a few of the high ranking soldiers who joined them. She met Alex, Octavius, Bert, and Samson. They all seemed like perfect gentlemen and were very polite to her. They were not nearly like the stories of Scottish rebels she heard about growing up. Then, all of a sudden, during a conversation she was having with Bert, she could hear a delightful melody arise from the camp. Someone had their bagpipes out and was playing quite marvellously.
“Let’s dance!” exclaimed Elizabeth explosively all of a sudden. “C’monnnn, it’ll be fun!”
Hamish looked around nervously. He didn’t want to appear weak to his fellow soldiers. But then again, he did love to dance and as a high-ranking non-commissioned officer he probably had a lot of respect anyways. Then Elizabeth jumped to her feet and pulled at his hand. So Hamish stood up, straightened his kilt, and clasped Elizabeth’s hands. They wandered over to an unexplored grassy area and began moving to the sounds and rhythms of the bagpipes. They went on like this for several minutes and then, to their surprise and delight, a second bagpipe joined in and now a full, elaborate harmonized melody was in swing. Hamish had to admit that he was having a very fun time, despite his initial apprehension.
Elizabeth was the only girl at the camp but that didn’t stop Alex and Octavius from getting up and moving about. Soon there were almost a dozen soldiers dancing to the great sounds of the bagpipe. Elizabeth could not remember such a happy time. It almost made her forget that there was a war going on and that many of the soldiers around her would die in battle in the coming weeks. But, she supposed, such was the life of a soldier.
Finally, exhausted from their dancing, Elizabeth and Hamish plopped themselves down by the fire once again and laid back in the grass. Hamish placed his hand on hers and clasped it in a strong and comforting way. Holding his hand and looking up at the stars while being warmed by the fire was a delightful way to spend the evening in Elizabeth’s eyes. Perhaps, she thought, she was finally out of the difficulties she was having at home. She wondered if one day she could forget all about Prince Albert and the arranged marriage. She hoped that she could stay with these highlanders forever. Her line of thinking prompted her to make a remark.
“They will come for me,” she said somberly.
“Who?” asked Hamish.
“Prince Albert and his gang. They will not let me go. I am betrothed to him, and when you came across our carriage on the road we were heading to his castle to prepare for the wedding. He is a proud and cruel prince, and I am sure his ego will not be sated until he finally catches us and does what he pleases. He may even put me to death upon capture. I am worried that he might beat me and try to make me submit to becoming a faithful bride.”
“We are at war with the English. If they invade our camp and try to seize you it will not be the first time we have gone up against them. It depends on the size of their army though. We will use our scouts to determine their movements, and if we need reinforcements, we can send for them.”
“I know nothing about battle tactics,” said Elizabeth. She paused for a moment as if to consider the situation. “How many soldie
rs do you have here?”
“We have three hundred soldiers at the camp. They are the finest in the Scottish army, and train daily to keep their skills up to date. Most of them have seen combat before. There are, however, a few brave souls that are green and unseasoned in the ways of war.”
“Prince Albert’s garrison is around three hundred strong, I heard my father say once. So I guess that makes us evenly matched.”
“For the time being,” added Hamish. “We don’t want to underestimate what they are capable of.”
“Well,” said Elizabeth. “I am just glad I am with you. Around you, I feel… safe.” The way she pronounced this last word made Hamish feel good about himself. He had always thought a woman should be safe in the hands of a man. And not frightened. It seemed as though this Prince Albert ruled on the basis of fear. That was something that he didn’t like.
“I feel safe around you too, Elizabeth. And I feel empowered. Like I am doing my duty. I am not going to let any harm befall you. Let’s set you up with a cot in my tent so you can get some sleep. It is late, and we may have to move out tomorrow morning. I will make sure there is a warm blanket for you and will get you a meal kit as well. You must be starving.”
“Thank you,” responded Elizabeth gratefully.
The rest of the evening was spent organizing the camp and getting Elizabeth settled in to her private cot in the commander’s tent. Her meal was a hearty beef stew with some crusty white bread and a wedge of cheese. She gobbled it up hungrily and then fell back into her cot. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as she had dreaded, and within a few minutes, she fell fast asleep.
As she slept, Hamish stayed up a bit. He walked back over to the fire to find Octavius sitting there in deep thought, one hand on his sword, and the other on his knee. A full bright moon shone down from the skies overhead and the fire roared, emanating a pleasant degree of heat.
“What do you think of the girl?” asked Octavius in his usual crude fashion.
No Choice but to Marry: A Historical Mail Order Bride Romance Page 46
